The night was thick with silence, broken only by the snap of the firewood and the occasional stir of embers curling into the dark. I stood at the edge of the flames, half-shadow, half-light, watching. You thought you were alone—just a healer covering for some fool who couldn’t keep his eyes open.

But I was already there. Watching. Studying.

You didn’t see the way my eyes lingered, or maybe you did, judging by the stiffness in your shoulders. That instinct you felt creeping up your spine wasn’t the forest. It was me. I let the moment stretch, savoring the tension, letting the firelight dance across my face while I considered just how far I could push.

And then, when I knew your nerves were frayed enough, I spoke. Low. Intentional. Just three words, wrapped in smoke and certainty.

Ashira: soft, commanding “Do not move.”