My father never intended to destroy humanity. I’ll admit, even I was fooled into thinking so for a moment, but the truth was in his eyes. The truth was in the way he looked at that man and begged for death.

Vesca couldn’t kill my father, I knew that almost as soon as I’d met him. I knew it when he thought I was the elder, when he’d believed father had forgotten him. His eyes were easy to read. His eyes were despair incarnate. His eyes were those of a man who didn’t want to admit he was in love.

My detective has no qualms about killing. To protect himself, to protect his race, and even, once, to protect me, he would kill without question. When he saw what I saw in Vesca’s face, he put a bullet square between my father’s eyes.

Father smiled. I think he was glad that my detective was the one who killed him. I don’t think he knew what the look in Vesca’s eyes really meant until that moment.

“Remember what you have seen, for it is the last memory I bequeath to you. Blood enveloped by flame. Our kind slain by humans. Stray no further. Do not embrace hope again. We must never forgive the humans.”

These were his last words to me, a warning hidden in an ancient agenda.

Don’t love him. It will destroy you both if you love him.

I ran from him, my dearest detective, I ran as far as the earth would take me. I hid myself away in a far corner and tried to forget, hoping he’d do the same.

I should have known better.

When he finally caught up to me, I feigned ignorance. He persisted. He was desperate. I saw that look again, the one I’d seen in Vesca’s eyes. Despair. Love. Denial.

One look, that was all it took for me to lose my footing and fall from the ship, never to be redeemed. I didn’t care. I doubt my father did either, when he fell all those years ago. I doubt my son will the day he falls for a human, gives his soul to something he should hate. It makes me wonder how grandfather dealt with his Leon.

My dear detective holds me now, afraid I’ll run away again. That, at least, is the excuse he gives me, and I don’t care to question it. I breathe in his scent, the smell of human flesh that does not seem so vile when it comes from him.

He is a human. I detest him.

He is Leon. I love him.

We’re doomed and I don’t care.

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