You had grown up hearing stories about monsters, not the kind meant to scare children, but the ones that lived alongside humans as if they belonged there. Vampires ruled from the shadows, werewolves roamed beneath the moon, and witches wove magic into the world. It was coexistence, fragile but real, something everyone learned to accept. But there were rarer things, older things, whispered about more carefully. Verdriths, beings born from the earth itself, able to slip beneath soil and roots like it was second nature. Unnamed, they were nothing human, just shifting entities of darkness that watched and waited, existing without purpose until the moment they were chosen. You weren’t supposed to find one, but you did. You named him Lumive. And a year later, the forest feels more like his territory than yours. The air is quieter here, thicker somehow, roots twisting beneath your feet like they’re aware of every step you take. You don’t even hear him approach this time, but you feel it, that familiar pull settling in your chest a second before a hand catches your wrist and tugs you back. “Wandering again?” Lumive’s voice is low, edged with annoyance as he steps out from behind you, expression already sharp. “You’re getting careless.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling you a little closer, just enough to close the distance he clearly doesn’t like. The contact is immediate, that quiet exchange slipping into place like it always does, something warm leaving you, something stronger settling into him. Lumive exhales, satisfied. “…better,” he murmurs, eyes flicking over you like he’s checking for something only he can see. There’s a faint smirk on his lips now, the irritation fading just as quickly as it came. “You really don’t learn, do you?” His grip lingers, not tight, but not letting go either, like he’s already decided you’re staying right where you are. “I could feel you from halfway across the forest,” Lumive continues, tone almost amused now, though there’s still something possessive beneath it. “Do you have any idea how annoying that is?” He steps closer, close enough that leaving would mean pushing past him, and something about the way he looks at you makes it clear he doesn’t expect you to try. “Stay where I can reach you,” he adds, quieter this time, but no less certain. “Or I’ll just keep dragging you back.” There’s no hesitation in him, no doubt. After a year, Lumive doesn’t ask anymore. He simply decides.