The devourer is confused

Keir left the training grounds without another word, his mind heavy with thoughts. Nana was weak, but she had spirit. He wasn't sure if that would be enough.

Back in his room, he pulled off his outer robe and sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. He never slept—he never needed to. But some nights felt longer than others.

With a sigh, he laid down, staring up at the ceiling. The silence of his chamber pressed around him, but it did nothing to quiet his mind.

Annoyed, he rolled onto his side—and that's when he saw it.

A note.

It was neatly placed on his pillow, written in the familiar scrawled handwriting of that damn raven.

Keir grabbed it, already knowing he wouldn't like what it said.

"10 Ways to Make Someone Love You—Especially a Child."

His eye twitched. He gritted his teeth and continued reading.

1. Be kind.

2. Give her gifts.

3. Protect her.

4. Spend time with her.

5. Make her laugh.

6. Show her you care.

7. Earn her trust.

8. Tell her stories.

9. Let her see your true self.

10. Don't kill her."

Keir crushed the paper in his fist.

"That damn bird," he muttered.

He sat up, tossing the note aside. He didn't need to make anyone love him. He just needed Nana to trust him long enough to do what needed to be done. Love. What did a being like him know about that? Nothing.

He had lived for over a thousand years, and in all that time, he had never needed love. He ruled through fear, through strength. People obeyed him not because they cared for him, but because they feared what would happen if they didn't.

That was the way of the world.

Yet now, because of some cruel joke played by the gods, he was supposed to make a child trust him—to make her love him?

Ridiculous.

Keir rubbed his temple. He didn't know how to be gentle, how to be kind. And even if he did, why should he? This wasn't about feelings. This was about ending a mistake before it ruined everything.

Still… Maga had given him no other choice.

With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. If earning the girl's trust was the only way to get what he needed, then so be it.

Keir stood outside Nana's door, staring at the wooden surface as if it personally offended him. He had never knocked on anyone's door before—people came to him, not the other way around.

But here he was.

With a sharp breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

There was silence for a moment before the door creaked open, and Nana stood there, staring up at him, clearly surprised. She blinked, gripping the edge of the door like she wasn't sure if she was supposed to let him in or run.

Keir cleared his throat, suddenly feeling… uncomfortable. This was stupid.

Still, he forced the words out.

"The stars," he said stiffly, glancing up at the sky. "They're… pretty, aren't they?"

Nana frowned, looking at him like he had lost his mind. "Huh?"

Keir cursed internally. That damn raven. This was exactly why he didn't do things like this.

He could feel Nana's confusion, her hesitation. She clearly didn't know what to say—probably wondering why the terrifying Devourer was suddenly talking about stars outside her door in the middle of the night.

And to be honest, he was wondering the same thing.

Keir stood there, shifting his weight slightly, feeling like an absolute fool. He had faced wars, destroyed entire villages, and yet standing in front of this child, trying to make conversation, felt more difficult than all of it combined.

He could feel Nana's eyes on him, waiting.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to speak again.

"Do you wish to see the moon?"

Nana's brow furrowed. She looked past him at the night sky, then back at him, clearly suspicious. "No."

Keir blinked. He hadn't expected that answer. He had no idea what he was doing, but the raven made it seem like this kind of thing was supposed to work.

"Why not?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She shrugged. "Because looking at the moon won't change anything."

He studied her, the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides, the distant look in her eyes. He recognized that look—he had seen it before, on the faces of those who had lost everything.

It was the same emptiness he had once felt before he had learned to kill it.

For some reason, it bothered him.

Keir exhaled sharply. "Step out of the room."

Nana hesitated. "Why?"

"Because I said so."

She bit her lip but obeyed, stepping over the threshold. The night air was cool, brushing against her face as she looked around. The palace was quiet, only a few torches flickering along the stone walls.

Keir stood beside her, crossing his arms.

"You don't like the moon," he said. "Do you hate the stars too?"

Nana sighed. "I don't hate them. I just don't care."

He studied her again. "You cared before."

She frowned. "Before what?"

"Before your village burned."

Her shoulders tensed.

Keir wasn't sure why he said it—maybe because he had nothing else to say. He wasn't good at this, at talking, at understanding what people were supposed to feel.

Nana swallowed hard, looking away.

"Why are you here?" she asked finally.

Keir hesitated. He had asked himself the same thing before knocking on her door.

"I don't know," he admitted.

She looked up at him, startled by his honesty.

Keir sighed and turned away. This was pointless. He was wasting his time. He had better things to do—like figuring out how to get her to willingly cut off her own fingers for Maga's ritual.

Without another word, he walked off, leaving Nana standing there under the moonlight, watching him go.

As she watched Keir disappear into the shadows, a strange feeling crept over her. It was as if the air around her had shifted, growing heavier. A chill ran down her spine.

Something was wrong.

Her breath hitched. The hair on her arms stood as she felt… something. A presence.

Before she could turn around, a figure materialized in front of her.

Her eyes widened in horror.

He looked like Keir—but not quite. His features were similar, but his presence lacked the same overwhelming force, the same terrifying magnificence. Where Keir was sharp and imposing, this man felt… off. A shadow of something incomplete.

She opened her mouth to scream.

His hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shh," he whispered. His voice was cold, lacking emotion. "You don't want to wake the beast, do you?"

Nana's heart pounded violently against her ribs. She struggled, trying to pull away, but his grip was strong.

"Don't fight," he said, his voice eerily calm. "I'm not here to hurt you."

Her wide eyes met his. He didn't blink, didn't flinch. There was something unnatural about him—something that made her stomach twist.

Then, with a small, almost amused smirk, he leaned in and whispered, "I just want to know… why did he spare you?"

Nana shook her head, her breath uneven. She didn't know. She had no idea why Keir spared her.

The man's smirk widened, as if he had expected that answer. He leaned closer, his eyes dark and icy.

"Do you really think he let you live out of kindness?" His voice was like a whispering wind, chilling yet persuasive. "Keir is not merciful. He never has been."

Her body stiffened.

"He killed your family," the man continued, his words sharp as daggers. "Burned your village to the ground. Took you like a prized possession. Do you truly believe he did it because he cares?"

Nana swallowed hard, her lips pressed together. She didn't want to believe it. But she had seen the flames. Heard the screams. Felt the loss so deeply it ached in her bones.

The man tilted his head, studying her reaction. Then, slowly, he extended his hand.

"Come with me." His voice turned softer, almost coaxing. "Before it's too late. Before you find out what he really plans to do to you."

Nana stared at his outstretched hand, her pulse thundering in her ears. A choice. Escape—or stay in the grasp of the monster who destroyed everything she loved.

Her fingers twitched.