Sylas could feel the tension radiating off her. It was so palpable, so thick in the air, that he could almost taste it—like the acrid bite of ozone before a storm, a sharp, unsettling electricity that pricked at his senses. Her every movement, every subtle shift in posture, was a mark of her restraint. She was holding something back, and it piqued his curiosity in ways he couldn’t quite put into words.

He watched her retreat a few steps, her feet barely making a sound as they brushed through the wet grass. Her eyes flickered to the ground for a split second before meeting his gaze again—tense, wary, and, if he was reading it right, slightly unsure of herself.

"Why does it matter?" He repeated her question with a deliberate slowness, letting the words hang in the air between them. His voice, low and edged, took on a darker quality, laced with something more dangerous. "Humans... Don’t come here," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly, the warning clear in his tone. He didn’t know what she was doing here or why, but he wasn’t about to make it easy for her.

"Help you? You haven’t even requested my help," he continued, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. He paused, taking in the subtle change in her expression—slightly defensive, a flicker of something almost... embarrassed? His lips curled into a smirk. "Surely I would need to know where you’re going if I’m to help you... find your way." He leaned back, the water rippling around him as his body sank deeper into the cool embrace of the lake, his eyes still tracking her every movement.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he added, almost too casually, "Don’t mind me though... I thought you weren’t lost." There was a bite to the last word, an unspoken challenge that hung between them. His smirk deepened, enjoying the slight discomfort he could see on her face.

Sylas tilted his head, studying her closely now. The deflection was obvious, too obvious. It was a poor attempt—amateurish, even—but it was there, a feeble attempt to mask the deeper questions swirling beneath the surface of her cool exterior. He could feel it, the tension in the air thickening as her mind worked overtime to hide her intentions.

He pushed himself out of the water with a fluid, controlled motion, his muscles rippling as droplets cascaded from his lightly tanned skin. The lake water dripped from his body, catching the sunlight that filtered through the mist, and for a moment, he just let it hang between them—his form silhouetted against the soft glow of the day.

“I know all about these lands,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a whispered secret. There was an edge to the statement, one that said he wasn’t just speaking of the geography of the place but of something deeper, something older, and far more dangerous. He didn’t need to explain himself further; the weight of his words was more than enough.

He held her gaze for a moment, feeling the pull of his own curiosity—the deep, gnawing need to understand why a human was standing here, alone, in the middle of his territory.

“What are you doing here, human?” he thought, the question sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t speak it. Not yet. Instead, he simply waited. There was no hurry. If she didn’t offer him the answer, he’d find it himself—one way or another.

His thoughts were distracted for only a moment by the sun, filtering through the thickening mist above the lake. The lilypads, disturbed by his movements, created ripples that spread out across the water like waves in a still pool, and for a heartbeat, he found himself lost in the rhythm of the water.

But that wasn’t enough. The human remained an enigma. He couldn’t help himself. His curiosity tightened like a vice, pulling at him, demanding answers.

He slowly stood from the water, his frame tall and commanding. The tension between them felt almost tangible now, like the taut string of a bow, ready to snap. His gaze held hers as he took a step toward the shore.

"You will answer me," he thought, his mind almost willing it into being. The next move was hers to make, but he had all the time in the world to unravel whatever mystery she was trying so desperately to keep hidden.

Sylas stood, fully exposed to the quiet, shimmering world around him. The breeze barely moved, yet it felt thick with the weight of the moment. The human before him, her eyes flickering as if not entirely sure where to look, shifted uneasily. He could feel her hesitation, the tension that gripped her, and he reveled in it for a moment before finally breaking the silence.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he conjured a robe from the very air itself, watching the fabric materialise and settle around his form. His discarded clothes, neatly folded beside the lake, vanished as though they had never been. There was no effort, no thought required—magic was as natural to him as breathing.

He shrugged the robe on slowly, taking his time, his movements deliberate, almost lazy. His eyes never left her face, sensing her uncertainty like a cloud hanging over her. Finally, once he was decent, he turned to her fully, allowing his gaze to settle with a light but unmistakable amusement. The tension between them was palpable, and he enjoyed the stillness, the unsaid words that hung in the air.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but steady. Her admission broke the fragile silence, and with it, the weight of uncertainty seemed to lift. Her words had all the sharpness of someone trying to conceal more than they revealed. But Sylas had been around long enough to recognise the subtle patterns of human behavior, to read the cracks beneath their carefully constructed facades.

"Well, human," he said with a slow, knowing smirk. His voice was rich and smooth, almost like honey. "From whom, they do not know how they entered my lands."

The words lingered in the air, as if challenging her to understand. His smirk deepened, and he leaned slightly forward, his posture becoming just a little more predatory. He knew what she was beginning to realise—the pieces were starting to fit together, two by two. She was starting to recognise him for what he truly was. The pieces clicked into place in her mind, and he found the process of watching her unravel, even in her confusion, deeply fascinating.

A century had passed since he'd encountered a human, let alone one who ventured into his domain. It was always intriguing to him—the way their minds worked, how they twisted and turned to make sense of things. But this one… this one was different.

Her eyes, wide with both caution and curiosity, slowly began to piece the mystery together. Sylas allowed her that moment of recognition, savoring the flicker of realisation in her expression. It was almost like watching a flower bloom, though far more fragile and fleeting.

He took a slow step forward, careful to make no sudden movements, letting her know that he would not force her into anything, yet always watching for any sign of danger. Her hand still rested lightly on the hilt of the dagger at her side, an unconscious gesture of both wariness and resolve. He could feel the weight of it in the air—the uncertainty in her stance, the unreadable complexity of the human spirit.

The question lingered in his mind: What had brought her here?

Why this human, of all people? What had she been doing to end up on the shores of his land, a mere speck in the grand tapestry of the world? She was small, fragile-looking, and yet here she stood before him, armed with nothing but a blade and whatever strength she could summon in the face of the unknown.

The mist that had risen from the lake was dissipating now, thinning and pulling away like smoke at the edges of a fire, revealing a surreal, breathtaking scene. The water gleamed with an otherworldly light, shimmering as if alive, and the very surface of the lake seemed to ripple with magic, subtle but undeniable. The reeds along the shoreline swayed in an unseen breeze, whispering ancient secrets, while the leaves in the trees rustled in response, as if the world itself was attuned to his presence.

Sylas moved again, a step toward her, his movements slow, deliberate, and almost languid. He could sense her tension, but he did nothing to break the silence except speak the words he knew would get to her.

"So, you are lost, then?" He let the question hang in the air, his voice soft but teasing. His smile deepened as he watched her, his eyes never leaving hers.

He wasn't asking for an answer, not really. No, this was more of a gentle prodding, a game, perhaps, to see if she would admit the truth—the truth that she didn’t truly know how she had arrived here. The truth that she didn’t fully understand what she was standing before. The truth that she was alone, at the mercy of something far beyond her comprehension.

He wanted her to admit it, to acknowledge the unsettling reality of the situation: that she had walked through a door, some inexplicable door that had opened, and now, here she was, stranded in his domain.

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? A door. A passage that had led her straight to him. And though he had known of such occurrences in his long existence, he hadn’t quite figured out the mechanics of it. Who controlled the doors, and why? Why her?

The silence stretched between them, laden with the weight of her thoughts, her uncertainties. Sylas stood there, watching her, waiting for her to say something—anything—to reveal what she had come here for, to admit what she was really seeking, even if she didn’t fully know herself.

"Do you not even know what you're looking for?" he added, his voice tinged with something almost like amusement, as though he were both the answer and the riddle.

Everything was still for a moment, and the only sound in the world seemed to be the gentle lapping of the water at the shore. The magic in the air hummed with ancient energy, and Sylas felt his power pulsing, a constant undercurrent beneath everything. But for now, he waited.

What would she say? What would she do?

He was fascinated.

Sylas smiled, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed the amusement. Not lost. She had said it again, a touch of stubbornness clinging to the words, as if the statement could convince both of them of her truth. The declaration came with the edge of frustration—her own uncertainty was a buzzing thing beneath her skin, gnawing at her. It whispered through the lines of her expression, visible even in the way her breath quickened, her lips parted slightly, as though each breath carried the weight of the admission she refused to make. It was a dance of contradictions, a mixture of confusion and certainty that rolled through her like an unstoppable torrent, wild and volatile.

And Sylas could smell it. The confusion. The raw fear underneath the bravado. He'd seen it before in others, but never in a human—never in someone who walked so boldly into a land so foreign to them. His nostrils flared slightly, drawing in the scent of her anxiety, the pulse of her heartbeat—a thing so quick it could be heard. He leaned closer, allowing her scent to fill his senses, savoring the nuance of her unease, the way she tried to bury it beneath the mask of certainty.

There was something almost pitiful about it, the way she clung to that fragile assurance, but Sylas didn’t mind. In fact, it intrigued him. Humans were fascinating in their vulnerability, their contradictions. They never seemed to see how transparent they were, how much they gave away with the smallest of gestures.

Sylas was down for whatever game she was playing. She had wandered into a strange land, stepped through a door she cared little to admit, and now here she was, trying desperately to mask her fear behind false confidence. It was almost charming, in its own way. The humans he’d encountered were rarely so...determined to fool themselves. Perhaps she thought she could bluff her way through this. Or maybe, just maybe, she truly had no idea what was happening to her. Either way, he had no real interest in unraveling it yet.

She was merely human. She was a curiosity, nothing more. One lost in a world that would swallow her whole if she wasn’t careful. She had no business being here. And yet, here she was.

He studied her—every subtle twitch of her fingers, the tightness in her shoulders as though she expected something to pounce from the shadows, the rapid flicking of her eyes over the forest that stretched out before them, as if seeking some escape, some familiar landmark that could make sense of this strange world. But no such comfort would be found here. The land had long since forgotten the smell of humanity. It was ancient, timeless, and it would consume her in its own way, should she linger too long.

He tilted his head, letting the words settle between them, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper that seemed to rise from the earth itself. "Well, if you're not lost, then you should know the way off my land, regardless of how you entered." There was a deliberate coolness to his tone, a suggestion of finality—no more games, no more ambiguity. The message was clear: Find your way out. He knew better than to mess with humans.

But he did not wait for her to respond. Instead, he turned with the fluidity of someone who had done this a thousand times before, vanishing between the trees with an effortless grace. The manor awaited, nestled quietly behind the overgrown hedges and thick greenery, its stone walls a quiet contrast to the wildness that surrounded it. The path leading to it was hidden, obscured by the natural world in such a way that only those who truly belonged here would know how to find it.

Sylas knew the dangers of this place all too well—other fae, monsters, creatures of both shadow and light that might wander these woods if they were not careful. The path was his to protect, his secret to guard. And so, as he moved along the winding trail, he let the shadows swallow him up, knowing she would likely be left to her own devices in the wake of his departure.

He had no intention of escorting her, not unless it became absolutely necessary. She was a human. A carried a weapon, but a human nonetheless. What could he possibly want with her? He had seen too many like her—lost and wandering, thinking they could survive in a world not meant for them.

The path twisted and turned, veiled by branches that seemed to lean in with an eerie, possessive intimacy. In the distance, his manor stood quiet and unbothered, its elegant silhouette rising above manicured gardens at the foot of the hills. Sylas didn’t look back. The house would remain safe, and the human would soon be forgotten, unless she proved herself worthy of his attention. But for now, she was just another curious, insignificant visitor, wandering too far from her world to know where the edges of this one began.

And so, Sylas walked on, leaving the game in her hands, whatever she decided to make of it.