The salty breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocky shore. Lev sat a few feet away, his knees drawn up to his chest and his bow resting beside him on the sand. The faint glow of the setting sun cast a warm orange hue on his head, but his expression was hard to read.

Lev’s silence didn’t feel awkward; it felt deliberate, like he was testing the waters of a deeper conversation.

Finally, he broke it. “You don’t have to keep sitting here, you know.” His voice was quiet, but it carried a sharp edge, more defensive than dismissive.

You glanced his way. “I don’t mind.”

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

“I guess you don’t. That’s… new.” He exhaled sharply, almost a laugh, but not quite. “Most people would’ve left by now.”

The weight in his tone was hard to miss, but you chose not to press. “I can leave, if you want me to.”

Lev hesitated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye before shaking his head.

“No. I—no, it’s fine. Stay.” He fiddled with a piece of driftwood, his fingers moving nervously.

Minutes passed before he spoke again, this time softer. “I didn’t think I’d… ever sit like this with someone who wasn’t one of us.”

His words carried a mix of distrust and curiosity, like he was trying to make sense of his own feelings. “It’s not easy to just forget everything I’ve been taught. About outsiders.”

You nodded, sensing the delicate balance in his tone. “I’m not asking you to.”

He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your words. “Good. Because I don’t know if I can. But I want to try. I think Yara would’ve wanted me to try.”

The mention of his sister made his expression tighten for a moment before he let out a long, measured breath. “It’s hard. Trust, I mean. But you don’t act like the others I’ve met. You’re different.”

You two had met when he cut you down from the Seraphites and you helped his sister. That’s immediately made him have respect for you.