---
The Horror of Waking
Aeron awoke with blood in his mouth.
Warm. Thick. Sweet.
His tongue rolled over the unfamiliar texture, slick and soft, an iron-rich tang bursting across his taste buds.
The sensation was wrong—too thick, too warm, too alive—and yet, something deep inside him rejoiced.
His breath hitched.
His vision swam, his body heavy, his mind caught in the hazy remnants of agony. The Curse of Xal'zyrath still coiled around his soul like a nest of starving vipers, gnawing, pulsing, binding him to something far more ancient than himself.
But none of that mattered.
Because the taste—
The taste cut through it all.
His hands trembled as he lifted them to his lips.
Something dark.
Something wet.
Something still warm.
And beneath him—
His stomach twisted.
Selene.
Her body was broken.
Her throat was still torn open from where Malik had ripped her heart free. Her ribs were crushed inward, her pale skin cracked, her hair matted with the thick, congealing lifeblood that pooled around her still form.
She wasn't moving.
She wasn't breathing.
She was dead.
And yet—
He was eating her.
Aeron lurched backward, bile rising in his throat, his entire body screaming in revulsion. His stomach churned. His teeth clenched. The taste still lingered on his tongue, thick and syrupy, the warmth of it clinging to the roof of his mouth.
His fingers dug into the temple floor.
He wanted to vomit.
To rip his own tongue out.
To undo whatever he had just done.
But then—
The Hunger moved.
A whisper inside his bones. A pulse beneath his skin.
It stirred.
It recognized.
And it remembered.
More.
More.
MORE.
His body shuddered.
A sick heat burned beneath his skin, spreading from his stomach to his fingertips, to his legs, to his chest, his mind, his soul—
It was bliss.
His vision blurred.
His heartbeat thundered.
A sound—half gasp, half moan—escaped his lips before he could stop it.
His body was trembling. Craving.
Because for the first time in his life—
He was full.
---
The Horror of Being Alive
His hands moved on their own.
Aeron barely realized what he was doing until his fingers were buried inside her.
Her skin peeled apart so easily.
Her flesh was soft.
Warm.
Tender.
The scent of copper and ruin filled his nostrils, overwhelming, intoxicating, a feast prepared for no one but him.
His nails dug in.
A sick squelch filled the silence as he pulled, tearing the ruined skin further apart, revealing the thick, raw muscle beneath.
It glistened in the dim firelight.
Pink. Red. Alive.
And he—
He wanted more.
His stomach growled, a deep, aching need pulsing through every nerve in his body. His vision sharpened, his heartbeat pounding in his skull, his breath coming in short, needy gasps.
He couldn't think.
Couldn't stop.
Selene had once laughed with him.
Selene had once loved him.
And now—
Now, she was nothing but warmth in his belly.
His mouth opened before he could think—
His teeth sank in.
The first bite sent fire down his spine.
The soft flesh gave way beneath his tongue, bursting with thick, rich juices. It coated his lips, his chin, his throat, sliding down in a warm, satisfying pulse.
Aeron moaned.
It was divine.
Better than food.
Better than wine.
Better than breathing.
Every nerve in his body sang with pleasure.
His hands moved faster, tearing deeper, fingers sinking into muscle and marrow, pulling apart tendons, splitting open what was left of her broken ribcage.
His tongue lapped at the wound, tasting, savoring, devouring.
The hunger howled.
It was not enough.
Never enough.
Selene was beautiful.
Selene was his.
And now, she would never leave him.
Not even in death.
---
The Witness
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the ruins.
"Magnificent."
Aeron froze.
His body seized, his breath catching in his throat.
The voice was familiar.
Hated.
Malik.
His father stood at the edge of the chamber, watching him with pride.
"You did not even hesitate," Malik whispered. "Do you see now? The truth of what you are?"
Aeron couldn't answer.
His lips were still sticky with her.
His body was still burning with pleasure.
His soul was still screaming.
And Malik—the monster who had made him this—only smiled.
"You have become what you were always meant to be."
He stepped forward, kneeling beside him. His hand reached out, brushing Aeron's bloodstained face.
"You are beyond salvation now."
Aeron shook.
His fingers twitched.
His breath came shallow, ragged.
Because he knew—he knew—that Malik was right.
Because the hunger—
The hunger had no master.
Not anymore.
Malik saw the look in his eyes.
And he laughed.
"Then do it, my son," he murmured. "If you can."
Aeron's body moved on its own.
His teeth bared.
His nails turned to claws.
And the hunger—
The hunger sang.