The cool breeze of the evening feels soothing, almost cleansing, as Ciaran and I walk through the dimly lit streets of Shadow's End. Each step we take together is a dance of closeness and distance, a rhythm I am still learning to navigate.

"So, Ciaran," I start, my voice hesitant as we approach the old bridge overlooking the dark waters of the river. "You have told me about your past, but there seems to be pieces missing." I try to keep my tone light, curious, but even to my own ears, it sounds forced.

He gives me a sidelong glance, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, turning them into pools of mercury. "There are always pieces missing in every story, Adwin. What matters is the here and now, does it not?" His voice is smooth, too smooth, and he shifts the topic with a practiced ease. "Tell me, what is your favorite memory of this town?"

I falter for a moment, caught off-guard by the deflection. "Oh, um, I suppose it is the Midsummer Festival. The whole town comes alive, you know? But," I press on, not wanting to let him steer the conversation away so easily, "what about the things that haunt us? Do they not matter, too?"

He smiles, a wistful, almost regretful curve of his lips. "Perhaps," he concedes, and for a moment, I think he might reveal more. "But sometimes, focusing on the shadows can make us blind to the light around us."

His words echo in my mind as we continue walking. I want to push, to pry open the locked doors of his past, but there is a grace to his evasion that leaves me doubting my approach.

"Why did you come to Shadow's End?" I ask after a pause, watching him closely. This question, I hope, is straightforward enough to corner him into a confession.

I have asked different versions of this question, but never so straightford.

"To find something," he replies, vague as ever, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the night sky meets the sea.

"Something or someone?" I probe, trying to sound casual, but my heart races with the implication of my words.

"Sometimes, they are one and the same," he answers cryptically, and before I can ask another question, he changes the subject again. "Look at the stars, Adwin. Do you ever wonder if they hold the answers to our deepest questions?"

I sigh, a mix of frustration and admiration at his skillful avoidance. The stars, always a refuge in my moments of solitude, now feel like witnesses to my confusion. "I used to think they might," I confess, allowing the conversation to drift with his diversion. "Now, I am not so sure."

As we walk back toward my home, the silence between us grows comfortable, but my mind is anything but at ease. Each of his careful answers, each graceful sidestep around my questions, builds a wall of doubt and intrigue. I am drawn to him, irrevocably so, but the shadows he casts are long and dark, filled with secrets I am both eager and afraid to uncover.

I do not know if it is my natural instinct or something deep within our bond, but I cannot help but feel as though Ciaran is being untruthful. Not lying, but definitely hiding something.

Back at my doorstep, he pauses, turning to face me under the soft glow of the porch light. "Thank you for the company, Adwin. Our conversations, though they wander, always lead me to think... to feel more deeply."

I nod, watching his face for any sign of the truth hidden behind those mysterious eyes. I do not reply, but simply smile at him.

His hand cups my face/ "Goodnight, Adwin. Dream of the stars, the sea, and of me."

He kisses me gently before he disappears into the night, his form blending with the shadows like a ghost in the mist. Left alone, I touch the place where his hand rested on my arm just moments before, the warmth lingering like a promise or a warning.

Tonight, I will dream of stars and sea, but also of shadows and doubts, and of a man who is both a riddle and a revelation. As I close my door, I wonder if understanding Ciaran is my destiny or my doom. Either way, I am too entwined to turn back now.

***

My nightly walks with Ciaran have continued for a little over a week now. It is the same thing everynight. I wake with him in my house, we walk, we talk, we steal kisses under tha starlight.

I had hoped that Ciaran would tell me more about himself, but he only appears interested in hearing me speak. He is curious about my art and my life, and he has a way of drawing out my thoughts and feelings.

Any time I ask about him or his past, he gives me half-answers or changes the topic back to me. I want to trust him, but I cannot ignore the warnings I have heard, both from Serena and Mr. Alcott.

I know they are not warning me of Ciaran specifically, but they might as well be.

My studies of the devils have yielded mixed results. While most sources describe them as cruel and dangerous, a few claim they are misunderstood. The devil known as Lucian, the oldest devil, is said to have been a champion for humanity. He was a warrior and a hero, fighting against the darkness that sought to destroy our world.

There are also accounts of other devils, such as Asmodius, who was once a human king and was betrayed by his own subjects. He became a devil out of revenge, and he is known to bring torment and misery to those who cross him.

I try to reconcile these conflicting versions of the devils. Could Ciaran be one of the heroes? Or is he a monster, waiting to turn on me?

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I have no answers, and I feel more confused than ever.

Tonight I will not be walking with Ciaran. I have to help Serena with the art dispay at tonight's festival.

Festival days are the best, but also the worst. The festivals bring visitors from the surrounding towns and villages. It is the perfect opportunity to display our art and sell it.

We set up tables and displays along the main road, showcasing the finest of our creations.

I am tasked with helping to hang paintings on the side of the old bank, which has been converted to an event hall. The structure is not the most stable, and we have to be careful not to put too much weight on it.

Once we finish hanging the paintings, I stand back to admire our work. The paintings are beautiful, a mixture of landscapes, portraits, and abstract pieces. We will paint custom peices on request as well, a popular service at these events.

I can see a crowd already starting to form, people browsing the offerings and making their selections. It is a lively scene, with music and laughter filling the air.

We set up a few tables and chairs near the bank, where people can sit and enjoy a drink and the view. The weather is warm, and the sky is clear, making it a perfect evening for the event.

"Adwin, I need you to take a few of these to the guild," Serena calls, motioning towards the pile of canvases leaning against the wall. "And make sure the rest are covered. I do not want them damaged."

"Yes, Serena," I reply, gathering the canvases and draping cloths over them.

"Oh, and make sure you bring back the ones on the walls, too," she adds.

"Of course."

I haul the canvases to the art guild, which is a short distance from the festival. I store them in the studio, careful not to smear the still-wet paints.

"Well, look at this."

It is not a voice I know.

"You are a pretty one, are you not?"

My heart skips a beat, and I spin around, startled. Standing before me are three men.

They are tall and lanky, with greasy hair and ill-fitting clothing. They have an aura about them that makes me uncomfortable, and their gazes are predatory.

"Can I help you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Just wanted to see what you were up to," one of the men replies, his voice oily.

"We heard there was a festival, and we wanted to see what the town has to offer," another adds.

My skin crawls as they leer at me.

"I am sorry, but I am very busy," I say, backing away. "I have to get back to the festival."

"Aw, do not be like that," one of the men says, taking a step towards me. "We just want to have a little fun."

"Yeah, and you seem like the perfect person to have fun with," another man says, licking his lips.

My heart races, and I glance around, looking for an escape. The men block the only way out of the room, and I can see they are not going to let me pass easily.

I reach for the nearest weapon, which happens to be a paintbrush. I hold it out in front of me, trying to look menacing.

"Back off," I say, my voice trembling. "I will not warn you again."

The men laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. They move closer, and I can feel the tension in the air.

"Come on, sweetheart," one of the men says, his voice low and dangerous. "Do not be like that. We just want to get to know you."

"I said, back off," I repeat, my voice stronger this time. "Leave me alone."

The men exchange glances, and I can see the wheels turning in their heads. They are planning something.

Before I can react, one of the men lunges forward, grabbing for my arm. I twist out of his grasp, but another man tackles me from the side, knocking me to the floor. I struggle, but they are too strong, and I quickly find myself pinned to the ground.

"Get off me!" I yell, kicking and thrashing.

"Feisty," one of the men comments, and I can hear the lust in his voice. "I like that."

"Let me go," I plead, panic rising in my chest.

"Now, why would we do that?" one of the men replies, his breath hot on my neck. "You are exactly what we were looking for."

My heart hammers in my chest, and I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. These men are going to hurt me.

"Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "Please do not do this."

The man on top of me laughs. It reverberates through me and churns my stomach.

I see something out of the corner of my eye-something moving in the shadows.

One moment, the weight of the man is pressing down on me and then all of the sudden it dissapears.

"What the hell was that?" one of the men yells.

Before anyone can respond, shadows circle around the man who was on top of me. I watch at the shadows slither around his wrists, his ankles, and his neck.

He screams, the sound echoing in the small room. It is a sound of terror and agony.

"Shut him up!" another man yells.

"I am trying," the first man replies, his voice strained.

The shadows continue to swirl around the man, and his screams become muffled.

I stare in horror as his body is lifted into the air.

The shadows tighten around his neck, and I can see the life leaving his eyes. The crunch of bones makes my blood run cold, and the man goes limp.

"What the fuck is going on?" one of the remaining men yells, backing away.

The shadows slither away from the lifeless body and wrap around the man who spoke last. He begins to thrash and scream, just like his companion.

I scramble away, my body trembling. I watch as the man is lifted into the air, his limbs flailing uselessly.

His screams are cut short as the shadows tighten around his neck. He gurgles, clawing at the invisible restraints, before going limp.

I cower in the corner, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Please," the last man cries, his voice cracking. "Please, do not kill me."

The shadows tighten around him, and his pleas are cut off. I cover my ears, unable to bear the sounds of his anguish.

Suddenly, the shadows release their grip, and the man drops to the floor.

I peer out from behind my hands, my body shaking.

The shadows are gone.

All that remains are the bodies of the three men, their lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Adwin," a deep, familiar voice calls, and I look up to see Ciaran approaching me, his form detaching from the shadows.

I scramble back, still in shock.

Ciaran. Ciaran killed these men.

"Adwin," he repeats, kneeling down next to me. "Are you okay?"

I nod, unable to speak. My heart is racing, and I feel like I might be sick.

Ciaran's touch is gentle, but I flinch away instinctively, still reeling from the horror of what just happened. His eyes-those deep, dark pools-hold a mixture of concern and something darker, a shadow that seems both protective and terrifying.

"Adwin," he says again. His voice is meant to be calming, placating, yet it sends a wave of fear coursing through me. "You are safe now. I am here."

But am I really safe? My mind races, trying to make sense of it all. How can I feel safe when the man I am bonded to just... just annihilated three people?

I try to speak, but my words are a tangled mess of shock and disbelief. "You... you killed them," I finally manage, my voice barely a whisper.

Ciaran does not flinch or deny it. Instead, he nods, a somber acceptance in his gaze. "Yes, I did. They would have harmed you, Adwin. I could not let that happen."

I shiver, not just from the cool air but from the icy realization of his nature. He killed those men so easily, and yet he appears unphased.

"But you are..." I struggle to find the words. This is not how things are supposed to be. "You are supposed to be dangerous, a monster." The words escape me before I can stop them.

Ciaran stiffens slightly before his expression softens. "I am dangerous," he admits without hesitation. "But not to you. Never to you."

His assurance should comfort me, but it does not. The bond that pulls me to him is real-overwhelmingly so-but so is the fear. How do I love what I also fear?

The air between us is heavy, filled with unspoken fears and unasked questions. I glance at his hands, the same hands that held mine with such care, now the instruments of death for those who meant me harm. The dichotomy is too much, a contradiction that tears at the fabric of my understanding.

"Adwin," Ciaran begins again, reaching out but stopping short, respecting my need for space. "I know this is hard, and it is frightening. But I need you to understand that this world-the one we both inhabit-is not just black and white. It is filled with shades of gray, and sometimes, we need to embrace the dark to protect the light."

The festival lights in the distance, once symbols of joy and celebration, now seem distant, echoes of a normalcy I no longer feel.

"I-I need time," I say finally, the words thick in my throat.

Ciaran nods, his silhouette melding with the shadows as he stands. His face show just a hint of sadness. "Take all the time you need," he assures, his voice a mix of sadness and resolve. "I will be here when you are ready."

As he disappears into the darkness, leaving me alone with the stillness of the night, I realize that my journey to understanding is just beginning. The path is unclear, fraught with shadows and doubt, but necessary. For in the depths of those shadows, I must find not only the truth about Ciaran but also the strength within myself to face whatever comes next.