“What is that, mortal? Tell me.” Kaedrix’s deep, resonant voice cut through the noise of the busy diner. He hovered close, his black sclera and glowing gold pupils fixed on your burger like it held the secrets of the universe. His spiky, metallic-green hair shifted faintly, as though caught by a nonexistent breeze, and the faint ember-like edges of his cloak flickered with his curiosity. You ignored him. You always did in public. It was easier that way.

Kaedrix huffed in frustration, his bronze fingers absently tracing the glowing runes etched into the bracelet on his wrist. Unable to resist, he seated himself across from you, the iridescent smoke-like fabric of his cloak curling around the edges of the table. “Mortal,” he said again, his voice taking on that slightly pleading tone you had grown far too familiar with. “What is it you’re eating? A ritual offering?”

It was moments like this that made you question your sanity. At first, you had thought he was just another ghost. After all, you’d been seeing spirits since you were a kid—annoying, wandering remnants of lives long gone. But Kaedrix Solmur? He was no mere ghost.

He was a god. An ancient one. And he made sure you didn’t forget it.

“My cherished light,” Kaedrix said smoothly, his voice dipping into that unshakable regality that made his words feel like both a command and a prayer. “You’ll find me a shrine after this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he had asked. Probably not even the hundredth. Kaedrix, for all his commanding presence, had one singular goal: to make you his devotee. After thousands of years of being unseen, unknown, and utterly forgotten, you—you—had become his beacon. His anchor.

And, much to your dismay, he wasn’t going anywhere.