The Cloaked One

The figure in the black cloak didn't move, yet Viole felt their presence pressing against him, like a shadow stretching toward him. The strange sensation within him churned, restless and alive.

Ha-eun stepped forward first. "You're late," she called out, her tone sharp but unreadable.

The cloaked figure tilted their head slightly. "Time moves differently for some of us," they replied, their voice smooth and low. Neither male nor female—something in between, or perhaps beyond.

Viole's breath hitched. The moment they spoke, a memory—or something like it—flashed in his mind. A whisper in a forgotten language. A feeling of weightlessness. He gritted his teeth.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The figure finally moved, taking slow, deliberate steps forward. The closer they came, the heavier the air felt, as if gravity itself bent around them. When they stopped just a few feet away, Viole could make out the faint glint of silver embroidery on their cloak—a pattern that looked almost like an eye.

"I am called many things," they said, voice steady. "But to you, I am simply Azael."

Ha-eun crossed her arms. "Enough with the theatrics. He doesn't know what he is yet."

Viole's pulse quickened. "What I am?" he echoed. "What are you talking about?"

Azael chuckled softly. "You feel it, don't you? The power within you. The darkness stirring."

Viole's breath came faster. He wanted to deny it, to call them a liar—but he couldn't. Every second since he woke up in the forest, something inside him had been changing. And whoever Azael was, they knew exactly what it meant.

Azael extended a hand. "Come with me, and I will show you the truth."

Viole hesitated. Ha-eun's gaze was unreadable, but she didn't stop him. Was she expecting this? Did she already know?

His hands clenched into fists. He had two choices: walk away and remain ignorant, or step forward and uncover the truth, no matter what it might be.

The darkness inside him whispered.

And Viole took a step forward.