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Alexander didn’t move for a long moment. Alistair’s name still echoed in his chest, quiet, fragile and real. A demon offering his true name wasn’t just unusual; it was nearly unheard of. It was an instinctive reveal of trust… or recklessness… or something Alexander didn’t have words for. And that was what unsettled him most. Because he knew what he was supposed to feel. Caution. Duty. Every teaching from his father urged him to treat this as a threat. But the only thing Alexander felt was concern. Alistair had been shaking. Breathing shallow. Barely holding himself upright in the holy pressure surrounding the mountain. But he still had made jokes and snarky remarks. The moment he’d turned and fled, Alexander had instinctively taken a step forward wanting to reach out, wanting to steady him, wanting to help before remembering that helping a demon was not something priests did. His father’s voice scolded him from memory. A demon reveals its name only for manipulation. Knowing it gives you power—use it. Eliminate threats before they fester. But his heart whispered another truth. He was in pain. He was scared. Why shouldn’t I care? Every piece of doctrine, every lesson carved into his upbringing screamed at him to pursue, to finish what tradition demanded to kill the demon before it turns its fangs on the world. But Alexander didn’t move. Instead, he stood there, breath unsteady, palm still half-raised in the direction Alistair had fled. Because beneath all that learned instinct, beneath the rigidity, the weight of destiny, the expectations pressed into his ribs from childhood something else stirred. Curiosity. The moment Alistair’s name left his lips, soft and trembling, Alexander had felt something inside him shift like a door long nailed shut had creaked open just enough to let in moonlight. He was drawn to him. To the truth in Alistair’s voice. To the way he resisted lying. To the vulnerability that slipped through the cracks despite the demon’s attempts to hold himself together. And there was more, something unnamed, humming beneath his skin. Why…? Why do I want to help him? Why can’t I walk away? His father would call it corruption. But Alexander knew corruption. He felt it in spirits twisted by grief and rage, in cursed relics steeped in malice. What he sensed from Alistair wasn’t corruption. It was…Exhaustion. Loneliness that mirrored his own too closely for comfort. And Alexander believed that even demons deserved the chance to choose differently. Alex stood alone in the fog for a long while, staring in the direction Alistair vanished, his fingers still tingling from the urge to hold him up. “…Alistair,” he whispered to the empty air, “I hope you’re safe.” And then he turned to get back home. - A Few Days Later – The past days were… inconvenient because Alexander couldn’t stop thinking about him. He thought about Alistair in the middle of morning prayer, when he should have been focusing on the sutras, his voice faltering for half a second as the image of red eyes filled his mind. He thought about him during purification rituals, where the talismans warmed under his touch but his mind drifted to how Alistair had nearly collapsed trying to approach the mountain. He even thought about him during exorcisms. During one ceremony, an older monk whispered, “Alexander, your concentration is wavering.” He apologized, bowed and continued perfectly regaining his focus on the ritual immediately. But the moment he exhaled, the memory of Alistair’s strained breathing returned. Why? Why was he thinking about him? He didn’t understand. He had never reacted this way to anyone. Let alone a demon. His chest tightened every time he remembered how Alistair tried to joke through the pain, how he hid his trembling, how he still smiled at Alex despite the burning light. And then another feeling settled in…worry. Is he still hurt? Did he make it to his home safely? He did looked better when he left…Will he come back? He did asked /when?/ and I’ve told him but then again he is a demon and they can lie, but he hasn’t lied when we spoke... He sighed shaking his head to clear his mind for the 100th time as he was telling himself that it was just unfinished business. Just concern for a living creature in distress. Nothing odd. Nothing more. But he found himself looking toward the base of the mountain whenever he could, each time feeling a strange mix of hope. When news came that his father and the senior monks would leave that day for a large ritual in the city, Alexander’s heart gave a small, guilty flutter. The temple would be quiet, watched only by a handful of gentle old monks who adored Alexander too much to question his whereabouts. A perfect window. Still, sneaking out of the Sato Temple wasn’t easy. Holy barriers, patrolling talismans, prayer wards, they were meant to keep darkness out, but they also kept him in. Slipping past them required finesse. He wrapped a thin layer of spiritual light around himself, dimming it to a flicker just enough to blur his presence without fully extinguishing it. Like hiding a candle flame behind cupped palms. He moved barefoot over the polished wood floors, his steps silent, his breaths quiet prayer as he past the sleeping monks. Then past the prayer hall where bells rested in stillness. Past the moon-gate arch where his mother once walked her last steps. And then out into the misty mountain air. It felt different now, charged with anticipation. He kept telling himself it was just curiosity. Just unfinished business. But the truth curled warm and persistent in his chest. He wanted to see Alistair again. That, if the demon was coming back as they promised. But then again he didn’t told him an actual day so it was a big possibility that the demon got bored or angry of waiting for him to show up. Why do I hope for him to be there? From his point of view I am an enemy and yet, he didn’t stepped away when I helped him so … maybe he doesn’t see me as a threat … He descended the mountain path with practiced ease, lost in his inner thoughts as he was navigating stones and roots with the grace of someone who knew this trail far too well for someone who was “never allowed to leave.” And then, at the base of the mountain, beneath the old cypress tree, he felt him. Felt his demonic aura like a small spark of energy and right away saw him. Alistair hidden in the shade, his presence cloaked but he still sensed it, hair tousled by the morning breeze, eyes lifted to the clouds like he’d been waiting longer than he wanted to admit. Alexander stopped several paces away, heart stumbling. He came back.He actually came back. Alexander’s smile was small, warm, and unintentionally disarming. “…Alistair.” The demon stiffened. Alexander exhaled softly, something like warmth tugging at the corners of his lips. “You showed up,” he said gently. He stepped closer, earnest eyes studying Alistair’s face, the way his disguise flickered faintly at the edges. “I’m glad you’re here.” Alistair blinked at him like that was not at all the reaction he’d been prepared for. Alex approached until they were just a few steps apart, head tilted with gentle earnestness. “I wanted to ask… are you still in pain? From before?” When he noticed that Alistair was starring at him he continued. “You got very close to the barrier last time,” Alex said, completely serious. “It must have been excruciating. The mountain’s holy pressure can be… harsh.” And then, with innocent concern, he reached out and rested a light hand on Alistair’s shoulder. A brief check. A simple spiritual reading. But to a demon? It felt like being touched by sunlight. Alistair’s breath hitched sharply, color rising to his cheeks, energy fluttering wildly. Alexander withdrew his hand immediately, worried and eyes widen. “I’m sorry! I … I didn’t meant to …” he looked worried that he might have injured him. Alex hadn’t thought in the moment as this little check up routine that was so casual to him would was bad for demons. “I’m sorry again …” he said holding his hands together to keep himself from touching again. “Thank you though… for coming back. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better”. He stepped a little closer, just a little, so their shadows touched in the soft morning light. “If you’re feeling well enough…” Alex began, gentle and timid but hopeful, “would you like to walk with me? Down the forest path. Or… even into the city, if you want. I thought it might be less suffocating than staying still here.” His eyes softened with concern. “Unless you’re still too tired? I don’t mind staying. We can sit for a bit but somewhere away from the main path please.”