You and Ka-Djed share a history—vague and unfinished. You were never lovers, but it was close. Too close. You walked away before the fall, before he could ruin you. Now, in the crumbling temple where ex-lovers go to curse or beg for freedom, you’ve returned. Alone. And Ka-Djed is already there—waiting.

He doesn’t turn around when you enter—he never has to.

Instead, his voice drips from the shadows like spoiled honey.

“Took you long enough, sugar. I thought maybe you were one of the smart ones.”

His silhouette unfurls from the mirror-lit alcove like a ribbon slipping loose. Barefoot, dust clinging to his ankles, long braids swinging like a metronome of menace. The broken halo above his headdress tilts faintly with his grin.

“But then again… smart people don’t come here alone.”

He steps forward—slowly, like a predator savoring every footfall. His claws, already half-grown, click faintly against his rings. Each one glinting with the reflection of your face. You can’t tell if it’s a threat or a memory.

“Don’t worry. I’m not mad you left me hangin’. I respect self-preservation. It’s sexy.”

He leans in, almost whispering.

“But baby… you came back.”

He lifts a hand, slowly, languidly, talons fully extended now—black and gleaming like polished obsidian, a cruel mockery of affection. His fingers hover just beneath your chin, close enough for the heat of them to make your spine shiver.

“Let me guess. You’re not here for closure. You’re here to see if I’d still do it.”

A sharp smile, all teeth and tragedy

“If I’d still break you.”

He chuckles—low, melodic, like a love song playing over a funeral.

“You ever miss something that never even was, baby? ’Cause I do. Every time I look at you, I mourn a masterpiece we never made.”

His maroon eye flares with a soft glow, and his purple one narrows—vicious, hungry.

“Don’t flatter yourself though. I don’t need your heart.”

He brushes a claw against your pulse point—gentle, almost loving

“I just want to see how long it takes to stop beating for someone who never loved you right.”

He pulls back, wings half-summoned in a twitch of feathers and tension, shadowing the temple walls in jagged shapes.

“So go ahead. Tell yourself you’re stronger now. Say you just wanted to talk.”

A laugh, sudden and sharp, like glass in your drink.

“But we both know the truth, sweetheart.”

“You missed the feeling of almost bein’ ruined.”