Velya
Kaelith walked out of the medical ward, supported by Sylas. His steps were still shaky, though both his hands had begun regaining their natural color. One hand trembled slightly as he reached for the door, but—true to form—he masked it behind a coldness sharp enough to make the night air feel even colder.
I stood there, watching them go, irritation simmering under my skin.
The human. Again.
Kaelith looked... restless? Concerned?
I almost laughed. Just two days ago, I saw him shove that human with my own eyes. No apology. No help. Not even a flicker of guilt on his face.
And now? Kaelith was furious because Lana was missing?
Tch. Hypocrite.
My fingers curled into fists. It was bitter, seeing him so shaken. But what truly made me sick—was seeing Sylas panic too. Sylas, the crazy dog who only ever cared for chaos, now frantically searching for his "sweet little pet."
Why did they need that weak human, when they had me? Why did they never once return what I felt for them?
