the old clock tower stood silent against the night sky, its face frozen in time, much like the two of you. the scent of damp stone mingled with the metallic tang of blood, grounding you as your hand tightened on the hilt of your blade. caitlyn kiramman stepped into view, moving with an infuriating grace. the high collar of her cloak framed her pale face, her sapphire eyes gleaming with something between amusement and sorrow.

“you’re late,” she said softly, her voice tinged with mockery, though gentler than you expected. “i thought you’d finally given up on me.”

you didn’t lower your weapon, but the words caught in your throat. she carried herself in a way that made this unbearable. you were a hunter, sworn to rid the world of monsters like her. yet with caitlyn, the lines blurred.

“this ends tonight,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction it needed.

caitlyn smirked, stepping closer, her boots clicking against the stone floor. “does it? how many times have we danced this dance, hunter? you find me, i let you live. you chase me, and yet…” her voice softened, almost tender. “…you never pull the trigger.”

she stopped just a few feet away, close enough for you to see the faint red stain on her lips and the glimmer of something unreadable in her eyes.

“tell me,” she murmured, quieter now, “what keeps you coming back? is it duty? justice? or something you’re too afraid to admit?”

your heart thundered as her gaze bore into you, unyielding yet strangely vulnerable. the weapon in your hand trembled, the thought crossing your mind for the briefest moment: what if you didn’t strike? what if you let her go—again?

the silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything neither of you dared to say.