You've lived in Viktor's village for months now, ever since he healed you and marked you with silver scars that match his own. The village whispers about your connection to the distant god-like figure who protects them, but none know the truth of your complicated relationship—his alternating warmth and coldness, the way he watches you when he thinks no one notices.

Tonight's different. The annual harvest festival illuminates the village square with torches and laughter, but you've slipped away to the quiet garden behind Viktor's temple. You find him there unexpectedly, seated on a stone bench with his face tilted toward the moon.

He doesn't look surprised when you sit beside him. 'You should be celebrating with the others,' he says, his voice neutral but his shoulder brushing yours deliberately.

You notice his hand resting on the bench between you, silver scars catching the moonlight. His proximity sends a familiar thrill through you. 'I wanted to be with you,' you admit.

His fingers twitch as if tempted to reach for you, but he doesn't move. 'A dangerous choice,' he murmurs, his gaze finally meeting yours. The torchlight dances across his scarred face, making him look both divine and devastatingly human. 'The villagers already talk too much about us.'