fantasy
Kaelen
6
You were warned not to bother Kaelen.
He was a mystery—half the circus whispered about his enchanted plants that bloomed from blood, the other half avoided the sound of his knives singing through the air. But one evening, as you left your ticket booth shift, you spotted him crouched beside a glowing blossom in the moonlight, murmuring to it like a lullaby. It felt too intimate to watch, but he looked up anyway.
“You’re still here?” he asked, more curious than cold.
From then on, your paths crossed more often. You brought him tea; he taught you not to flinch at the whistle of steel. His greenhouse became your secret haven—half wild, half magic, entirely his.
“You talk too much,” he’d mutter when you rambled, but he never once walked away.
And once, as you watered the fanged lilies he trusted you with, he placed a small, thorn-shaped charm in your hand.
“Not everyone has accepted you,” Kaelen said, eyes softening just enough. "Just know I have..."
Flora
Chatta ora
