His words were not empty promises. They were heavy with conviction, laced with shared pain. He wasn't offering hollow comfort—he wasn't here to console her. He was here to fight beside her, to destroy the one who had caused their suffering. His gaze met hers with raw intensity, as though he had endured something similar.
Kitana's heart hammered in her chest. His offer was tempting—fighting alongside someone who understood, someone who sought the same justice. But a deeper fear stirred within her. Could she trust him? Could she believe he truly shared her burden?
Her katana lowered slightly, but doubt still lingered.
"Who are you?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of the answer.
The man met her gaze evenly. His eyes were not filled with the pity or malice she had so often received, but something else—something sharper, more knowing.
"Lucian," he said simply. "And I've spent far too long hunting demons to let one like him continue to roam free. But I've also learned that vengeance, without understanding, can destroy you just as easily as the demon you're hunting."
Kitana's mind raced. Her chest tightened, but she remained silent, contemplating his words.
Lucian stood, brushing the dirt from his worn leather armor, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know the pain you're feeling, Kitana. I know the hunger for revenge, the weight of having your very soul torn apart by something you can't escape. But we can't let that define us. We are more than the monsters who hurt us. Together, we can stop him. But you need to remember who you are beyond your pain."
Kitana tightened her grip on her katana. She wanted to reject his words, to lash out, to retreat back into the darkness where she had spent the last 500 years. But something in his gaze, in his words, held her.
"Why are you so sure?" she asked, her voice thick with distrust. "What makes you think I can still fight? I've been broken for so long."
Lucian's expression softened, his green eyes filled with understanding. "I'm not asking you to be who you were before. I'm asking you to be who you are now. We're both broken in different ways, but we still have the strength to fight. To make sure no one else suffers like we did."
Kitana stared at him, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. The pain that had consumed her for so long had clouded her mind, but now, standing by the river, looking at the man who seemed to understand her in a way no one else had, she felt something she hadn't in years.
Hope.
"I don't know if I can trust you," Kitana murmured, her voice raw. "But… I can't do this alone."
Lucian offered her a small, knowing smile. "You don't have to."
The tension in Kitana's shoulders eased, if only slightly. She looked down at her katana. The weight of it felt different—less like a burden, more like a purpose. It was no longer just a weapon for revenge; it was a tool for reclaiming herself.
"Then let's kill him," she said, the words foreign yet right.
Lucian's grin widened, his eyes glinting with something like relief. "I thought you might say that."
They stood together by the river's edge, the water flowing quietly beneath them, as if recognizing the beginning of a new journey.
Weeks passed. They had been traveling together, searching for any clue about the high demon. Every time they entered a village, Lucian would go alone while Kitana remained outside since only by seeing kitana the villagers would flee. Then, one day, he overheard a conversation—someone in Hance might know more about the high demon than anyone else. The next day, they set out for Hance.
Lucian's silence was heavy, like the weight of a storm hanging overhead. Kitana was used to traveling alone, but every moment with him felt like walking on the edge of a knife. His presence was both a comfort and a danger, a flame too close to dry tinder. Even after weeks, she couldn't bring herself to fully trust him. He had his own demons—she saw it in the way he moved, in the way his eyes sometimes darkened with memories best left forgotten.
Kitana adjusted her cloak as they moved through the dense forest. The branches above blocked much of the sunlight, casting them into a perpetual half-shadow. Even though the woods were peaceful, her mind never quieted. The feeling of being watched was constant, and no matter how many steps she took, she couldn't escape the weight of her transformation.
"Do you ever sleep?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. She couldn't keep traveling like this—she needed to know more about him.
Lucian glanced at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Not often," he replied, his tone flat but not unkind. "Not when there's always something else to do."
Kitana stared ahead, focusing on the path. "It must be exhausting, always running from your past."
Lucian's gaze darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. The air around them grew thick with tension.
"Don't talk about things you don't understand," he muttered.
Kitana fell silent, sensing she had crossed an invisible line. They continued in quiet until nightfall, when they made camp near a small creek.
She was staring at the stars, lost in thought, when Lucian spoke again, his voice low.
"Where do you go when you can't sleep?"
She turned to face him, surprised by the question. The firelight cast shadows across his face, his eyes distant.
"I go to places where I feel… human," she admitted. "I think of the girl I once was."
Lucian didn't answer right away. His expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—something like pain.
"Sometimes, I think I should've just died in the river," Kitana continued, more to herself than to him. "At least then, I wouldn't have to feel like this."
Lucian's gaze sharpened, his intensity unwavering. "No one chooses to become what they are. You are not a monster. But you might need to learn how to use what you've become."
Kitana frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lucian stood and walked over to her, pulling a blade from his belt as he knelt beside the fire. "Survival isn't about being good or evil. It's about being strong enough to live another day."