Rowan's POV**
The marketplace was loud, filled with the scent of fresh bread, spices, and the occasional stench of unwashed travelers. A familiar setting, a familiar game. A little trick here, a little charm there, and suddenly, I had more coin in my pocket than I'd started with.
But then I saw *her*.
She wasn't just some passing noble or a merchant's daughter playing dress-up. No—there was something different about her. Something *powerful*.
It wasn't just her face, though I'd be lying if I said she wasn't lovely. No, it was deeper than that. A presence. An *aura*. Like the world bent slightly around her, as if she didn't quite belong in it.
And I liked things that didn't belong.
I made my way toward her, curiosity pulling me forward. But just as I was about to close the distance, a firm hand gripped my chest and stopped me in my tracks.
Caius Drayke.
Of course.
I sighed dramatically, looking up at the man who had once been my senior. "Well, well. If it isn't the Fallen Hero himself. Still brooding, I see."
Caius' glare could have cut through steel. "Walk away, Rowan."
But why would I? The woman behind him was looking at me like she *knew* me, and that alone was worth the risk of annoying my former companion.
I leaned against Caius' arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Now, now, that's no way to greet an old friend," I teased. Then, looking past him, I met the girl's gaze and gave her my best roguish grin. "You, however—you're new."
Her eyes widened slightly, caught between intrigue and hesitation.
Interesting.
Caius tensed. "She's none of your concern."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? But I *think* she is." I turned my attention fully to her, ignoring the silent warning in Caius' stance. "Tell me, love—what's your name?"
Her lips parted, but before she could answer, Caius stepped in front of her, effectively blocking my view.
Possessive, *aren't* we?
I smirked, stepping back with my hands raised in surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get violent, Drayke. But you can't keep her hidden forever."
Because whatever she was hiding, whatever made her different—I would find out.
And I had a feeling it was going to be *fun*.
———
Eloise's POV**
"Caius, *stop pulling me!*" I huffed, trying to dig my heels into the stone path as he all but dragged me away from the market. His grip was firm, his strides long and purposeful, and he wasn't saying a word.
I stole a glance over my shoulder—Rowan was still standing there, smirking like he *knew* this would happen. That only made me more frustrated.
"Caius," I tried again, yanking my wrist. "I just wanted to talk to him—"
"No." His voice was sharp, final.
I groaned, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace. "But why? You clearly know him, and he clearly knows *you*—"
"That's exactly why you shouldn't talk to him."
I scoffed. "That makes no sense! I have the right to talk to people, you know?"
Caius finally came to a stop in a secluded alleyway, turning to face me. His expression was dark, almost... angry? No, something deeper than that. Protective.
"Eloise, you don't understand what kind of person Rowan is," he said, his voice calmer now but still laced with tension. "He's unpredictable, reckless. He plays with people like it's a game. And you—" He exhaled sharply. "You are not someone I'm going to let him toy with."
I stared at him, his words settling heavily between us.
I understood that he was worried. That he was trying to protect me. But something about the way Caius reacted—like he was shielding me from some great danger—made me even more curious about Rowan.
Because I *knew* Rowan.
Not personally, of course. But I wrote him. I created him. He was my second favorite character, a wildcard in the story, someone who stood between good and evil and danced on the fine line of his own amusement.
I *had* to talk to him.
"Caius," I said softly, placing my hand over his. "I get it. You don't trust him. But I need to understand him. Please."
His jaw clenched, his grip tightening slightly before he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked away, like he was waging a war within himself.
"...You're not going alone," he muttered after a moment.
A small smile tugged at my lips. "Deal."
Caius might have been able to pull me away from Rowan for now.
But this wasn't over.
——-
Caius' POV**
I shouldn't have agreed.
I knew it the moment the words left my mouth. The second I saw the way Eloise's face lit up, the way she practically bounced on her feet at the thought of talking to *him.*
Rowan.
Of all the people she could take an interest in, it had to be *him.*
I clenched my fists as we made our way back toward the marketplace, where Rowan was undoubtedly waiting with that insufferable smirk. He always had that look—like he knew something no one else did, like he was *always* a step ahead.
Eloise didn't understand. She saw him as a character, someone she had written with purpose and depth. But I saw him for what he truly was—a man who played with fate, who cared little for honor and even less for consequences.
And now, for some *damn* reason, he was interested in her.
I stole a glance at Eloise. She walked beside me, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes bright with curiosity. She was so *unaware* of the weight Rowan carried, the destruction he left in his wake.
She wasn't ready for him.
And I wasn't ready to share her with him.
The thought nearly stopped me in my tracks.
*Share her?*
I inhaled sharply, pushing away the thought before it could root itself any deeper. Eloise wasn't mine. She never had been. She was the creator of this world, but that didn't mean she belonged to me.
So why did it feel like she did?
Why did it feel like I was about to walk into a battle I wasn't sure I could win?
"Caius?" Eloise's voice pulled me back.
I looked down at her, at the way she tilted her head slightly in concern.
"You okay?" she asked. "You look... tense."
I forced a smirk, trying to mask the storm brewing inside me. "I always look tense."
She rolled her eyes, but a small laugh escaped her lips. "Right. The legendary fallen hero, too brooding to smile."
I almost did. *Almost.*
But then we stepped into the open, and there he was.
Rowan leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed, watching us approach with lazy amusement. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes—sharp, calculating—flickered between me and Eloise.
"Well, well," Rowan drawled. "Back so soon? Couldn't resist my charm, could you, Creator?"
My entire body tensed at the way he said it. *Creator.*
Not Eloise. Not her name.
Just her title.
Eloise, of course, didn't seem to notice the way my hand twitched at my side, itching to grab my sword. She just stepped forward, smiling in that soft, open way of hers.
And I knew, in that moment, that I had already lost.