Time slipped by quietly, like a drop of black ink slowly thickening.
Hidden deep within the forest, far from the human world, Elaris and Aedan lived in seclusion.
Each time the moon rose high into the night sky, she would gently caress his cheek and whisper eternal promises of life and youth into his ear, while Aedan remained by her side, trapped between love and fear.
But the fragile peace they clung to was not destined to last.
That morning, the sky was heavy as lead, and the rain tapped low and steady against the eaves.
When Aedan awoke, he noticed something was different—the familiar scent of herbs no longer filled the air.
He pulled on his cloak and stepped into the silent house.
He found her by the door.
Elaris sat before a mirror, staring blankly at her reflection. Her face was still pale, her features still flawless — but at her temple, a strand of silver hair stood starkly against the dark, and a faint line traced itself beside her eye.
She stared at her reflection, fingertips brushing that strand of white.
Then, suddenly, she seized the mirror and hurled it against the floor.
"Why?!" she screamed, her voice shrill as a bird tearing through the night, "I absorbed so many souls—why am I still aging?!"
The room exploded into chaos.
Shattered glass rained down.
Scattered herbs filled the air.
Scrolls of magic tumbled from shelves like sorrowful autumn leaves.
Aedan stood frozen at the door, not daring to step closer.
Only when there was nothing left to destroy did Elaris finally stop.
She turned to him, her body shaking with ragged breaths.
Her eyes burned with a fury and terror he had never seen before — she looked like a dying beast, wild and desperate.
Aedan hesitated before stepping forward, kneeling at her side.
He reached out, gently taking her trembling hands into his own.
"I still love you, Elaris," he whispered, his voice shaking but sincere. "You don't need to be perfect. You don't need to stay young forever."
"You're wrong."
Her voice cut through his words, cold and sharp.
"You will never age, Aedan. You died. Your body is frozen at the moment of death."
Elaris lifted a hand to touch his face.
"You will always be young. Always beautiful, like a sculpture so perfect it steals breath away. But me—"
Her voice cracked.
"I will age. I will rot. And then—you'll despise me. You'll leave me."
The words hung in the air like frost.
Aedan could only lower his gaze, unable to answer.
Slowly, Elaris rose to her feet.
Her eyes darkened, a strange smile curving her lips.
"The souls of the dead... aren't enough…" she murmured, as if speaking to herself — or perhaps delivering a verdict.
"Aedan... you've always wanted to meet 'others,' haven't you? Very well... as you wish."
Aedan's heart clenched painfully.
He understood her meaning instantly.
But he did not resist.
He lowered his head, staring at his trembling hands, filled with a deep, gnawing dread.
Several days later, they left the forest and moved to the outskirts of a small town.
It was an ancient town built against the mountains, with winding stone roads and tightly clustered houses.
At night, warm light spilled from the windows, filling the streets with a cozy, comforting glow.
But that warmth did not belong to Aedan.
As dusk fell, Elaris dressed herself in the most exquisite black gown.
She kissed the tip of Aedan's nose and smiled at him, sweet and devastating.
"Aedan, you would do anything for me, wouldn't you?" she whispered.
He always nodded.
Because he dared not imagine the consequences of saying no.
They slipped into the night, wandering the twisting alleys.
Aedan possessed a face that turned heads wherever he went.
The town had never seen a man so striking.
One shy smile, a single glance, and young women would blush fiercely, willingly following him into the darkened alleyways.
And that was when Elaris would appear.
Gliding from the shadows with the grace of death itself, she would press a fingertip to each girl's forehead —
and in the next instant, the girl's body would crumple to the ground, her soul shrieking as it was torn away, imprisoned within a crystal vial.
Aedan could only turn away.
He could not watch.
He dared not run.
That very first night, they captured the soul of a young girl.
Elaris was delighted, immediately beginning the distillation process as soon as they returned home.
Three days later, when the soul had been fully refined, Elaris once again regained her flawless beauty.
She threw her arms around Aedan's neck, her eyes sparkling, waiting for his praise.
"You're breathtaking, my love," Aedan whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips.
Elaris laughed sweetly, returning his kiss with eager passion, as if rewarding him.
When at last they pulled apart, both breathless, Aedan said, "Elaris... now that you've restored your beauty, can we return to the forest? I miss our little cabin."
Elaris smiled, lightly tapping his lips with her fingertip.
"Silly thing, what are you saying?" she teased. "A few souls won't last long. I need a steady stream of them."
Aedan's face turned pale.
His eyes dulled.
But Elaris was already admiring herself in the mirror, oblivious to his silent despair.
A month later, they returned to the town.
Each woman who collapsed became another scar etched across Aedan's soul.
His dreams were haunted by the cries, the desperate struggles, the wide, hateful eyes.
He began losing his appetite.
He spent sleepless nights staring into the dark.
His gaze grew emptier by the day.
But whenever he returned to their rented house, Elaris was always waiting.
She would draw a warm bath scented with herbs, drape gauzy curtains across the bed, and envelop him in the kind of tender intimacy that felt like drowning in a sea of sweetness.
She would undress him slowly, whispering promises into his ear.
She kissed him, loved him — offering the illusion of paradise.
And Aedan would surrender, as if drinking poison while knowing it would destroy him.
Yet guilt was a chain that never loosened its grip around his throat.
And slowly, it began to choke the life out of him.