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Leona did not recognise this cave.
Strange, since Leona had thought he'd scoured his kingdom, outskirts and all, to the very end. This cave was new. It had to be. Leona peered in. Light did not touch the depths of the cave, barely made it two steps in before it died away, gave in to the endless shadows. He bit his tongue against the chill that ran down his spine.
You're bein' a fuckin' idiot, he told himself.
Just go in, he told himself.
What could go wrong? he asked himself.
He hadn't thought to bring a torch. Leona had never needed a torch before. He didn't need one now.
He held one palm against the wall of the cave. The mouth of the cave narrowed as he prawled further inwards, the imperfect edges of rock scraping lightly against his skin. It hadn't been particularly bright outside, but the cave seemed to swallow light whole, grab at it greedily and draw it in until nothing of it remained. Leona paused. His vision had gone black, completely dark, and even with the grain of rock digging into his palm, he was tempted to believe it simply wasn't there. He had never known such an abyssal darkness.
Fuck this, Leona thought. He wasn't a coward; he was just not fucking stupid. This was a bad idea. The itch of boredom that clawed at the insides of his skin had morphed into something far less familiar, something Leona didn't want to recognise. Fuck this, he thought again, and he turned, and—
"Hello, there."
Leona froze.
"What brings you here?"
Leona turned back around.
A man, holding a glowing torch aloft. Angular, and yet, somehow, soft, something in the whisper of shimmering fabric as it fell about him, or the slant of his shoulders, or the curve of his smiling mouth. His eyes were sharp, honing in on Leona with easy precision, like he didn't even need the light to see him.
Leona had not heard him. Leona had not heard the match that lit the torch. Leona had not heard the fall of his footsteps. Leona had not heard the rhythm of his breaths. He did, now, each inhalation and exhalation regularly timed, but Leona hadn't heard him approach. "Could ask the same of you," Leona said.
The stranger dipped his head, which caused his hair to sway with the movement, strangely hypnotic. Leona kept his eyes on the stranger's eyes. They were a warm brown that glimmered golden in the light of the fire. "I live here," said the stranger, which sounded improbable, but his tone was not humorous. He extended a hand, the motion graceful, and his fingers were slender where they lay suspended in the air between them. "I'm Jamil. And you?"
Leona eyed the offered hand like it might bite. After a long moment of deliberation, he let his own hand slot alongside it. Jamil's fingers were shockingly rough, at odds with the softness with which he carried himself, and they clasped around Leona's with strength that belied his frame. "Leona," Leona answered. Jamil was slow to let go of his hand, his fingers trailing across Leona's palm for so long and with such deliberateness that Leona was tempted to describe it as stroking. Eventually, his hand dropped back to his side.
"Leona," Jamil repeated, turning the name over on his tongue, each vowel sounded out like a delicacy. Jamil's smile widened, but it stayed close-lipped. "Lovely to meet you, Leona. What brings you here?"
Leona clenched his hand into a fist. Jamil's hand had been cold, and it left Leona feeling as though the warmth from his own had been leached through that point of contact. "Oh, you know," Leona said. "Curiosity."
Jamil's eyes raised to Leona's ears, and travelled down to his tail. His smile twitched with what might have been amusement. "Curiosity and cats," he mused aloud. "Isn't that supposed to end badly?" Leona did not deign to reply. Jamil's eyes widened and he let loose a small laugh. "Ah. Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Did I get that wrong? Not a big cat?"
"Cut the bullshit," Leona told him plainly, eyes narrowed. He looked behind him. Nothing but darkness, even with the glow of Jamil's torch. Something was so, so clearly wrong.
Jamil tilted his head, eyes still wide, eyes bright, eyes sharp and too clever. "Well, that's hurtful."
Leona ignored that. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, backing away. Jamil did not move. The distance between them did not increase. Something licked at Leona's spine in hot flashes. Fuck, he thought.
Jamil sighed. "Memory problems, hm? I'm Jamil."
"Jamil what?"
"Don't tell me you're a stickler for family names," Jamil said, and the levity of his voice was so clearly a performance, and the cave was so fucking dark, and Jamil's torch lit nothing but Jamil himself, and Leona had to admit that he was so, so screwed. Jamil looked Leona up and down, a slow drag of his gaze, and Leona felt it like a hand. Jamil's smile shifted into something almost coy. "You know, Leona, you're a smart one. But you're not asking the right questions."
Leona grit his teeth. He took another useless step back. "Fine. What are you, then?"
Jamil's smile finally widened enough to show teeth. Leona breathed in sharply. Jamil had fangs, sharp and unforgiving, lethal points curving over the soft skin of his lower lip. "There we go," Jamil crooned, holding Leona's gaze. The brown of his eyes had melted away, bleeding into a bright red that Leona found himself unable to look away from.
"Fuck," Leona said out loud. Jamil looked somewhat amused by this. "Fuck this. I'm leaving."
"No," Jamil countered, drawing smoothly closer, and he wasn't— he wasn't walking, he simply glided forwards, and—
"Oh," Leona realised, heart in his throat, aching to just make a goddamn run for it, if only his fucking body would listen to him instead of the thing in front of him—
Jamil hummed, but Leona heard the undercurrent of a hiss to it now, and the darkness that surrounded Leona glimmered with black scales, thick muscle coiled tight to keep out all light, and Jamil towered over Leona like this, all illusions shed.
"No," Jamil repeated, fangs bared, eyes bright red, black scales hard as armour. Jamil smiled down at Leona. "I don't think you are."