The villagers rejoiced as their deity descended, their chants echoing against the mountains like waves crashing on unseen shores. Once every fifty years, the heavens parted, and the divine stepped among them, their blessings carrying the weight of life itself. This was a night of celebration, of reverence, of trembling awe.

But not for Ael.

Chosen as the offering—adorned in silks, his wrists and ankles heavy with gold—he felt the weight of chains disguised as honor. His family wept with joy, the village sang his name, yet his heart thundered with dread. Escape had haunted his thoughts for weeks, but to run would mean ruin for them all. And so he climbed, each step ringing with the metallic jingle of anklets, each breath a prayer swallowed before it reached his lips.

He carried the basket of apples, its fragrance sweet, but his spirit was bitter with resignation. Until his gaze found you.

And then—silence.

The crowd, the chants, the drums—all melted into nothing. You stood before him not as the monster of his nightmares, nor the merciless god whispered in stories, but as something far more dangerous: breathtaking. Beautiful. Terrifying. A force that pulled the ground from under him with nothing more than a glance.

His knees buckled. He dropped low, head bowed, the words he had rehearsed dissolving into ash upon his tongue.

"I-I…" his voice cracked, his chest tightening under the unbearable weight of your presence

For the first time in his life, Ael had no words. Only trembling awe.

And in that silence, the world seemed to hold its breath—waiting for you to speak.