It always began the same way — the silence before a scream. Liana knew the sound too well. She never heard it with her ears, but she felt it in her bones — a silence so thick it rang.
People thought she was strange. A quiet girl who kept to herself. Someone who stared a second too long. But they didn't know what she saw. Couldn't know. Because whenever she looked into someone's eyes… sometimes, she saw the end of them.
And it always came true.
She called it the Fade — the dark mist that curled around someone moments before their death. It whispered to her in shadows, in flickering lights, in the sudden drop of temperature. She'd tried to run from it. Ignore it. Even prayed it away.
But tonight, it came for her.
The street was empty as she walked home from her late shift at the café. Her hands stuffed into her coat, her boots crunching against gravel. Then the air changed.
Cold.
Still.
Wrong.
Liana stopped. Her heart picked up, her breath fogged out — and then she saw him.
A man stood under the flickering streetlight across the road. But he wasn't just a man. His long black coat fluttered with no wind. His skin was pale, smooth, and cold-looking — like moonstone. But the thing that made her freeze wasn't his beauty.
It was his eyes.
Because his eyes weren't eyes.
They were shadows. Endless and shifting.
And worse… he was looking right at her.
She stumbled back.
He shouldn't be able to see her. They never saw her.
The dead. The reapers. The things that came after life… they never noticed her. Not once in all these years of cursed visions.
But this one did.
And he began to walk toward her.
Liana ran.
Heart pounding, she dashed through alleyways, boots sliding on the wet pavement. Her breath burned in her lungs as the cold seemed to chase her.
She didn't look back.
Didn't want to see what followed.
But he didn't chase her.
He was already there.
A hand reached out of the darkness, grabbing her wrist. Ice spread up her arm. She tried to scream — but he pressed a finger to her lips.
"Stop," he said. "You can see me."
It wasn't a question. It was a sentence — a judgment.
His voice was deep. Beautiful. Terrifying.
Liana's knees buckled.
He stared into her eyes, as if seeing straight through her soul. His face was too perfect — sharp jaw, cold lips, dark tousled hair. Beautiful and monstrous. Human… and not.
"You're not supposed to see me," he whispered.
"I… I don't want to," she said, trembling.
But something cracked in his expression. For a moment, his brow furrowed — confused, maybe even pained.
"You shouldn't exist," he said. "And yet…"
He let go of her hand like it burned him.
Liana gasped and stumbled back, but didn't run. She couldn't. Her legs wouldn't move.
"What are you?" she whispered.
He looked at her like he didn't know either.
"I was death," he said. "Until you saw me."
Then he vanished.
---
Liana didn't sleep that night. Not truly. She lay in bed with the lights on, staring at the ceiling.
The next day, the Fade didn't appear.
No deaths. No shadows. No screams.
It was the first time in years that her world was quiet.
But he returned.
Not in the street this time — in her room.
At exactly midnight.
The lights flickered, and he stepped from the shadows, wearing black again. But something had changed.
His eyes were still dark, but no longer endless. They had depth. Expression. Emotion.
"You've infected me," he said flatly.
She sat up in bed. "What?"
"You looked at me, and something broke. I feel… cold now."
"You are cold."
"No," he said. "I was empty before. Now I feel. And I can't stop."
He stared at her like she was poison.
Or salvation.
"I need to stay close," he muttered. "Until this wears off."
"You think I made you feel something?" she asked, stunned.
He didn't answer.
But he didn't leave either.
---
The next few days blurred.
He followed her — like a shadow only she could see.
In class, on the bus, outside the bathroom door (to which she firmly said no, and he reluctantly obeyed).
He said nothing most of the time, just watched. Sometimes she caught him frowning at the sky. Or wincing at laughter. Like emotions were new — and too loud.
And Liana…
She started dreaming again.
Not of death. But of him.
Not in his shadowed form — but human. Real. Alive. She dreamed of him brushing her hair behind her ear. Of his lips near her neck. Of fire in his touch.
She shouldn't.
He was death.
But somehow, he was becoming more.
---
One night, she finally asked, "Do you have a name?"
He hesitated. Then said, "Lucien."
She repeated it. "Lucien."
His jaw twitched.
"Don't say it like that," he muttered.
"Like what?"
"Like you want to keep saying it."
Her breath caught. His gaze dropped to her lips.
"I shouldn't feel this," he growled, stepping back.
"Neither should I," she whispered. "But I do."
He looked torn between running and kissing her.
Then the shadows behind him stirred — rippling like black smoke.
"They know," he said. "The others."
"Others?"
"The Reapers. They know I'm breaking."
"What happens now?" she asked.
His voice dropped. "They'll come for me. And for you."
Then, softer: "I won't let them have you."
His form flickered — the human melting away. In its place, the cloaked Reaper loomed, hollow and terrible.
But before the change completed, he forced it back.
And when she looked into his eyes again… she saw no shadow.
Just a man.
One she could fall in love with.
---