---
A Hunger That Would Not Stop
The night was silent.
Too silent.
Aeron stood at the edge of the ruined village, his breath slow, controlled, measured. But inside? Inside, his body was a storm.
The moon cast a pale glow over the remnants of what had once been homes, now nothing but charred wood and empty streets. The scent of burnt timber still lingered in the air, mixing with something else. Something heavier. Something richer.
Flesh.
Even now, after everything, the hunger still twisted in his stomach like a living thing. It was a second heartbeat, a pulse that did not stop, a rhythm that demanded to be obeyed.
The bodies had been dead for hours. The blood was drying, dark and thick against the cracked stone roads.
It wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
"You are resisting," Malik murmured beside him, voice calm. Patient.
Aeron didn't answer.
But Malik chuckled anyway. "You are."
His fingers curled into fists. "I'm not."
"You are still thinking," Malik continued, stepping closer. "Still questioning. But what is there to question?"
Aeron remained silent.
Because he didn't have an answer.
Or rather—he didn't have an answer he wanted to admit.
Something inside him still screamed. Something that was not hunger. Something that was not the monster his father had carved out of his flesh and soul.
And yet.
The hunger was louder.
"You hesitate because you still believe in the lie of choice," Malik said, voice almost amused. "But you have already chosen, haven't you?"
Aeron exhaled slowly.
"You did not stop after the first bite. Nor the second. Nor the tenth." Malik's eyes gleamed. "You did not stop with Selene."
Aeron tensed.
The name should have hurt.
Should have felt like a knife against his ribs.
But all it did—
Was make him hungrier.
And Malik saw it.
He knew.
"Good," he murmured.
---
A Banquet of Suffering
The first scream cut through the night like a blade.
Aeron moved before he could think.
His body knew what to do.
His senses sharpened, pupils dilating to drink in the darkness. His breath steadied, heart slowing to an unnatural, predatory rhythm. The hunger coiled in his gut, ready to strike.
He saw movement—a flash of skin, a glimpse of wide, terrified eyes.
A survivor.
A meal.
He struck.
His hands caught the man's shoulder, fingers digging in, forcing him down. The scent of fear hit his nose like a drug.
A struggle.
The sharp sting of a blade across his ribs—his prey had a knife. He barely noticed.
It didn't matter.
The hunger roared.
And then—
Teeth sank into flesh.
A rush.
A pulse of warmth, of power, of life.
The first bite sent a shudder through his bones. His entire body trembled, something inside him unraveling.
More.
More.
MORE.
His fangs tore deeper.
The man screamed.
Kicked.
Fought.
Then—
Stopped.
The moment life left his eyes, something else filled Aeron.
Power.
Memories.
Everything.
It wasn't just eating.
It was taking.
Aeron staggered, his head spinning, the rush of stolen life thrumming through his veins. His breath hitched. His hands clenched, nails cutting into his palms.
It was stronger this time. More than before.
The man's voice echoed in his mind.
Not words. Not thoughts. Just—fragments. Flashes of a life that was no longer his own.
A name.
A family.
A past.
Gone.
Consumed.
Aeron shook.
But not with horror.
Not with regret.
With hunger.
Because it still wasn't enough.
Because it would never be enough.
Malik watched from the shadows, smiling.
"You feel it now, don't you?"
Aeron's breath was unsteady.
The hunger still snarled in his veins, coiling inside him like a caged beast.
His body needed more.
And Malik knew.
"You are almost ready," his father whispered.
---
The Hollow Crown
By the time the village was silent, Aeron had lost count.
The bodies were everywhere.
Some torn apart. Some barely touched. Some drained completely, their flesh pale, their eyes empty.
Aeron stood in the center of it all.
His breath slow. Controlled.
His body hummed with stolen vitality, power curling beneath his skin like living fire. His vision was sharper, his mind clearer, his senses so overwhelmingly aware of everything that he felt as if he could see the world in its entirety.
And yet.
The hunger was still there.
More than before.
It was never-ending.
Malik approached him, stepping carefully over the bodies as if they were nothing more than discarded debris.
"You understand now," he murmured.
Aeron exhaled.
His fingers twitched.
His teeth ached.
His veins still burned.
Yes.
He understood.
This wasn't about sating the hunger.
That was impossible.
This was about accepting it.
It would always be there.
It would always demand more.
The only difference now—
Was that he no longer cared.
Malik smiled.
"You are ready."
Aeron lifted his gaze.
His hunger still snarled, endless and eternal.
His father's voice was soft, almost reverent.
"Now," Malik whispered, "we hunt the gods."
And Aeron smiled.