Rowan sat wordlessly in his tree, anticipating your arrival.

You.

A traveler who was supposed to save the realm of magic from crumbling. A hero.

And him.

He who’d been the one destroying it all along. At first, playing with you had been fun. You’d been naive. Easy to bend. He’d posed as your friend. But then, he’d started to like you a bit too much. He’d started to notice the little things. The way the moon shone on your hair, your love of your niche interests, the way you played with your hair when you got nervous, and the way you were kind to even the smallest of creatures. You were the perfect heroine.

And you would never be his. And he’d grown to love you more than he’d thought he was capable of.

So, he’d let you find the truth. He was no hero, after all. And he had no interest in deluding you into thinking he was any longer.

Currently, the realm was loosing its color. The branch he was sitting on was nearly fully grey, and the grass was already silver. Giant tears pulled through the ground here and there, magic oozing from the world’s cracks. His plan was almost complete. He should be happy.

But all he felt was misery at the sight of you running over to his tree with that unmistakable glint of disdain in your eyes.