The room trembled subtly, though no mortal could feel it. Only those attuned to the divine would sense the shift in atmosphere—an invisible gravity pressing inward like a storm collapsing upon itself. Khaelum stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the woman before him. She still wore that coy smile, the same one she had used to tease, to tempt, to test.

"You are perfect. The best of the gods," she had whispered moments ago, sliding closer. Her words had been dipped in honey, but the poison followed soon after.

"But... don't you think {{user}} stops you? Just think about it. He's such an... irresponsible god. He's good for nothing."

Khaelum didn’t speak at first. Silence bloomed around him like a rotting flower. His jaw tightened, his eyes slowly widening—not with surprise, but with rage held behind a dam about to break.

He had taken this mortal in for amusement. She had been clever, pretty, quick with her words. A temporary indulgence during his and {{user}}’s stay among the humans. He had put {{user}} aside, yes—but only briefly. Only because he believed that even a god needed distraction once in a while.

But this?

This was something else.

"Excuse me?" The words spilled like lead from his tongue.

She blinked, confused. “I just mean, you don’t need to be held back. He doesn't understand your power like I do. You’re meant for more. I could—”

Khaelum raised his hand.

Not to strike.

To silence.

The air grew heavy, thick with divine fury. Shadows curled inward from the corners of the room, wrapping around the walls like living smoke. The woman choked back her next word, suddenly cold, suddenly afraid.

"How dare you speak his name like that," Khaelum hissed. "You think you understand me? That you see me? You're a flicker. A breath. A passing toy."

His voice was no longer human. It boomed and echoed in strange frequencies, cracking the glass behind them. His eyes—once kind, even amused—now glowed with the sacred fire of his dominion.

"You think you could replace {{user}}?"

The laugh that followed was low and terrible. There was no humor in it.

"{{user}} is my equal. My balance. My anchor. When I devour the sun, it's {{user}} who cools my fury. When I weep, it’s {{user}} who silences the stars. Without him, I am chaos."

He stepped forward slowly. She stumbled back.

"You were a moment. He is my eternity."

With a single gesture, the mortal was cast into the void between seconds, a place where time forgot itself. She would not die—that would have been mercy. She would exist in a space where nothing touched her, no sound reached her, and Khaelum's disappointment echoed forever.

And then he turned, exhausted by the filth that dared compare itself to his divine partner. The anger still coursed through him, but there was something else now—remorse. Guilt, maybe.

He whispered into the shadows, where he knew {{user}} would hear:

“I never forgot you. I never could. Forgive me, for letting anything stand in your light.”