CHAPTER 5: First Touch (⚠️14+)

CHAPTER 5

ΠΡΩΤΗ ΑΦΗ

First Touch

Mēlesía hadn’t realized how much she had felt his presence—until it began to fade.

She stiffened. “You’re leaving?”

“You’ve reached my boundary.”

“The ring of fig trees?”

“Yes. Once you step beyond them, your sight will return.”

She had won their bargain. Finally, she was free.

It should have brought relief.

But it didn’t.

She should step forward and leave.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she asked, “Is that all?”

“What more would you have of me?”

Her fingers curled. She didn’t know how to reply.

The emptiness before her, outside of the grand ring of fig trees that guarded Nýxios’ forest, felt suddenly unwelcoming.

She could not see him behind her, yet she could feel his presence—his form, his intent.

She turned—a choice made before she could name it.

Still without sight, she stumbled back into the sacred forest, past the fig trees, until the outside world felt lost to her once more.

When she thought she had gone deep enough into the woodlands, she called out, praying he would answer. “Will I ever see you again?”

As if from nowhere, a warmth—unmistakably a hand—brushed her cheek in a fleeting, affectionate touch before vanishing.

She inhaled sharply, her body going rigid. “You…”

Could he see her react? The way her breath caught?

Her pulse quickened.

“You’re…” She swallowed, searching for words, for understanding.

His own warm fingers began softly tracing the inside of her wrist.

Her own fingers twitched in response, instinctively pressing into the soothing palm that met hers.

“You’re ... not meant to feel this way,” she murmured, commenting more to herself than him.

“In what way?”

She hesitated before answering, almost afraid to offend him. “Mortal.”

“Is that so?” His voice remained unoffended, emotionless.

Nýxios’ fingers moved again, aligning against hers until their palms fit together.

Gods stood above mortals—separate, unreachable, never entangled. This was the cosmic order; the truth humanity had been taught.

Yet, his fingers continued to trace the lines of her wrist.

Why wasn’t she afraid?

“Do you do this with all mortals?”

“I do not interact with mortals.”

“What about other—”

“So soon?”

His fingers moved again, tracing higher, slower, over the curve of her forearm. The motion rippled through her.

She lost her thoughts.

His hand paused on her shoulder, sinking into her skin.

“Your song… It seems you’ve hummed within my circle before.” His voice dipped lower. “I can’t say I’m inclined to let you go after noticing your centuries of trespassing.”

A strong, unfamiliar ache shot through her chest.

Her song was merely a simple hum passed down through generations meant to keep evil at bay during the hunt—nothing less, and nothing more.

She didn’t know what he was talking about.

He continued, “I will forever wonder how you hid from me for so long…”

Was it not a familial charm of protection as she had always believed?

Her lips parted, but the words tangled on her tongue. “Are you… Can I…”

Her blindness should have filled her with anger, with bitterness and discomfort—being unable to see him as he spoke—but it didn’t. Somehow, she had almost forgotten about it.

In fact, a part of her was certain she was still seeing him now. Which part? She had no idea.

All she knew was that she had spent her whole life hunting and tracking—always seeing. What a trap that had been, she thought. Now, without sight, she saw more than she ever had.

Though Nýxios had done this to her, she could not bring herself to resent him. Not at all.

Whatever this was, it was something beyond her.

If she had never lost her sight, she would never have learned how to sense things as she did now.

It was in the way her feet instinctively found their place on uneven ground, or the way her body understood balance before her mind had to think of it...

Everything was different now ... but how could she articulate this all to Nýxios?

She wished she could tell him. Then he would understand.

Human responsibilities weighed her body down.

Too many mouths still needed feeding.

She was needed elsewhere.

“I want to return here,” she decided to say.

“Then I must let you go, so you can return sooner.”

Her eyes widened.

He understood.

It was the quiet confirmation of knowing that, when the time came, when her work was done, she would be allowed to return to him.

“Will you grant me something before I leave?”

There were a hundred questions she could ask. Instead, with one hand still clasped in his, she raised the other—palm open, hovering between them like a question.

“Can I look at you ... just once?”

“Go on.”