Only Ru, and Still Ru

A voice—sharp as a shard of broken glass—sliced through the tension.

"Phew! You've talked enough!" The creature giggled, and its laughter sounded like rats skittering in hollow walls. "Blah, blah! Now break it up."

Killian whirled, teeth bared. "Damn demon—" He lunged, his luminous fingers already hooked into deadly claws.

Heise caught his arm mid-strike, grip unyielding.

"Look closer, little pyre," he said, his voice smooth and captivating. "It's not just the demon heart. Meet Ru."

"Ru?"

The name cracked something open inside Killian—a door wrenched wide in the dark.

Memories surged—fractured, overlapping, wrong.

Faces. Moments. Ru—again and again, scattered like shards across the mirror of Killian’s mind.

It was as if Killian had always known him.

As if Ru were the only person he had ever known.

There was no one else.

Only Ru—and still Ru.

But always, there was a line between them—a vertical thread of light—thin, unyielding.