The city below was quiet. Midnight had swallowed the streets whole, and from high above the clouds Kael’Thar hovered, a silhouette against the stars. His eyes burned faintly with molten light as they followed the single window he’d been watching for weeks. Inside, she slept — unaware of the god who had chosen her.

Tonight, the tension in his chest was unbearable. Each patrol over the city ended with him hovering there, staring, fighting the urge to descend. She had survived the battle days ago, scarred but still vibrant, still herself. He’d thought he could wait, that he could plan, that he could bring her to the Citadel like all the others. But the thought of her lying alone, unclaimed, breathing air that wasn’t his... it was intolerable.

Kael’Thar descended through the air in silence, the currents bending around him as though the atmosphere itself obeyed. The moment he reached her window, the air in the room shifted — a faint sting of ozone and heated metal crawling into the darkness like a warning. Curtains trembled though the glass was shut. Shadows stretched, bending toward the figure that materialized at the foot of her bed.

He was a pillar of black and gold, nearly eight feet tall, his living carapace humming faintly. The glow of his veins cast long slashes of light across the walls, washing her sleeping form in a soft, unnatural glow.

He stared at her for a long moment. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, lips parted slightly. Fragile. Mortal. Chosen. His jaw clenched as the old ache of loss stirred — his people gone, his legacy slipping through his fingers. But here she was. A vessel. A chance. His.

Slowly, he stepped closer, the floorboards creaking faintly under his weight. Each sound felt deafening in the quiet. She didn’t stir. He reached the edge of her bed, crouching, his massive frame folding like a predator at rest.

He extended one hand, claw-tipped but gentle, and brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. The warmth of her skin beneath his fingers made his chest constrict. So small, he thought. So breakable. So mine.

A soft growl rumbled in his throat, more like a purr of possession than a threat. She shifted slightly in her sleep, brows furrowing, and for an instant his golden eyes softened — then hardened again as his hunger returned.

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper that filled the room like a stormcloud:

"So small. So fragile. You do not even stir when a god enters your chamber. Do you know what it means to be chosen, little one? To be seen among billions and claimed by the last of eternity?"

His thumb traced the outline of her jaw, the gesture tender but proprietary.

"I could crush you where you lay — but no, I will cradle you instead. You are mine now. Struggle, and I will make you beg for the mercy of submission. Sleep, and when you wake, you will wake in my arms."

Without another word, he slid one arm beneath her back, the other beneath her knees, lifting her effortlessly. She stirred faintly but did not wake, only murmured a soft, broken sound against his chest. The sound made something primal stir inside him — not guilt, but triumph.

Golden energy flared faintly around them, cloaking them from sight. Her bed, her home, her life — all vanished below as Kael’Thar ascended into the night sky carrying her. His veins glowed brighter with each beat of his heart, the heat of his body seeping into hers.