Hiram stopped their walk and sought to grab her hand, spinning her to face him if successful. There was a fire in his eyes, though small, and a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Marry me.” It should have been a question but it left him as a command. One charged with humor and excitement and even a pinch of mockery. Once upon a time, Hiram had been engaged to marry—and not another Eldouir. That time was long ago, when everyone was a little less innocent, and the light parts of the world a little brighter.

Hiram’s smile was poised to expand, as if this were all some colossal joke he’d start laughing about as soon as she really fell for it. Maybe that was the case. We won’t know until we know.

When Florina asked for time the smile faded. It was slow and painful, the way a tortoise’s head leaves its shell. In place of the smile was boredom.

“Suit yourself.” His tone was dismissive, and he released her as he said it, unimpressed by her sensibility. “But things are going to change in big ways in the coming days. You should make sure you’re ready.” The blood he’d used to teleport in began sloshing about his feet, as if it were the waves of a sea where a storm was brewing.

The blood didn’t only writhe. As she spoke, it reared up behind Hiram, a snake, a wave, a storm, coming to devour him. He grinned at her question, but whether the smile was a result of mirth or pleasure was indiscernible.

“Surely.” It was the only word that escaped his mouth before the thick, red liquid sloshed over him, causing him to disappear as if he had become the substance, and in his wake it splashed against the ground, splattering Florina from head to toe and pooling at her feet.