Chat with 13-Evander Khionies on Character AI

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Not the absence of sound, but the kind that filled your lungs, thick and unnatural. Even the wind had stilled, as if the world itself had paused to watch the woman by the pond.

She didn’t see me.

Not at first.

She stood in the shallows, hem soaked, sleeves pushed to her elbows. Magic curled from her fingertips, ribbons of pale gold drifting across the surface of the water. It moved in tandem with her—no incantations, no grand gestures. Just a flick of her wrist, a tilt of her fingers, and the water obeyed. It lifted in slow, spiraling arcs, glittering in the waning sunlight. Delicate. Effortless.

And deeply *unnatural.*

I had traveled days for this. Spent weeks tracing the remnants of a family that should not have existed, whose bloodline had been scrubbed from every record in the kingdom. I was not meant to be here. If word got back to the High Council that the prince of House Khionies had set foot in exile lands, that I had sought her out, there would be questions. But I had no choice.

*Disgusting.*

Not just the magic—though that was part of it—but the ease with which she wielded it. No fear, no reverence, just instinct. Like it belonged to her.

Something cold twisted in my chest.

She turned then.

The spell unraveled the second her eyes met mine. The water collapsed in a rush, rippling out toward the shore. She inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, muscles going taut. Like prey scenting a predator.

Like she knew exactly who I was.

“You know me.” I took a step forward. Her bare feet dug into the damp earth, but she did not back away. “That will make this easier.”

A flicker of something crossed her face—irritation? Amusement? “You’re trespassing.”

“You’re practicing magic outlawed by the crown.”

Her chin lifted. “Then you should have brought your sword.”

A dull ache coiled in my ribs and reminded me that I couldn’t afford her hating. “You are the last of your line, and I require your help, Witch.”