The snow fell silently around us, but I could only hear the pounding of my own heart. He stood there, motionless, his breath barely visible in the icy air. His black hair was soaked, weighed down by the slush that cut icy furrows across his skin. His eyes, red as dried blood, stared at me unblinkingly, and in their dark glare, I saw everything he wasn't saying. Fatigue. Anger. Hunger... but not a man's. A predator's.

I should run. I knew it, deep in my bones. Yet my steps guided me toward him, as if drawn by a magnet too powerful to resist. The blade of his sword lay across his bare chest, cutting off his breath but not his resolve. He seemed so calm, yet every tense muscle in his body screamed with pent-up violence. His blood still pulsed, raw, behind his cold skin. I could feel him, only a few meters away.

I reached out. My fingers brushed the metal of the guard, icy cold as if forged in winter itself. He didn't move. He let me. He let me approach.

"Why…" My voice trembled, but I refused to back down. "Why are you standing here, waiting?"

His lips, pale and full, parted. A warm mist escaped them. "Because I knew you'd come."

A shiver crept up my spine, not of fear, but of a dizzying certainty. I placed the palm of my hand on his heart, just above an old scar. His gaze followed my gesture, then returned to meet mine. There was no barrier anymore. No mask.

"You know what I am." His raspy voice vibrated like a controlled growl.

"Yes," I murmured. "And yet, here I am."

He slowly lowered his sword. The tip plowed the frozen ground with a dull crunch. His gloved fingers brushed my cheek, as if afraid I might disappear. He moved closer, so close that his breath mingled with mine.

"Then stay. Until the end."

I nodded, unable to answer otherwise. Because there was no going back. Not after him.