---
The Curse Awakens
Aeron's body convulsed, his breath ragged as an unnatural force coiled deep inside him. It burned, twisted, screaming to be released. His fingers dug into the stone floor, leaving deep claw marks, his vision flickering between the ruined chamber of Malik's fortress and an endless abyss.
The hunger—**his hunger—**was changing.
No, not changing. Fighting.
Something deep within him was resisting, a foreign presence writhing inside his veins, clawing at the very fabric of his existence.
The curse.
It had always been there, lurking beneath his skin, whispering in his thoughts, driving his insatiable hunger. But now—
It was trying to break free.
Aeron's hands shot to his chest, his breathing uneven. He felt something moving inside him—a second heartbeat, a presence that did not belong.
And then—
A voice.
"You were never meant to wield this power."
The words came not from the outside, but from within.
And when Aeron looked up—
He was no longer in the fortress.
---
The Abyss of the Devourer
The world had changed.
The stone walls of the chamber were gone, swallowed by a shifting void of endless black. Bones littered the ground, stretching infinitely in all directions. The sky above was not a sky at all, but a swirling vortex of shadows, flickering with faint remnants of voices, of souls devoured.
And standing before him—
Was it.
A shifting mass of darkness, its form constantly distorting, flickering between monstrous shapes. One moment, it had a thousand eyes, hollow and endless. The next, it was a gaping maw filled with shifting teeth.
Then—
It took a shape Aeron recognized.
Himself.
A mirror image.
But wrong.
Its eyes were empty, hollow pits of endless hunger. Its voice came layered, distorted, as if spoken by countless souls.
"You are not the master of this power," it whispered. "You are merely the vessel."
Aeron's lips curled back into a snarl. "I am no vessel."
The figure stepped closer. The bones beneath it crunched, turning to dust. "Then prove it."
And without warning—
It lunged.
---
A Battle for the Soul
Aeron barely had time to react before claws raked across his chest, cutting deeper than mere flesh. His body staggered, pain erupting through his very soul.
This thing—
It was not just attacking his body.
It was tearing at his existence.
His memories flickered—Selene's bloodied corpse, his father's blade, the first time he had felt hunger. The pieces of his life—**his very identity—**were unraveling.
The thing moved like him. Thought like him. Fought like him.
But it had no restraint.
It was the hunger.
And it wanted to consume him whole.
Aeron snarled, forcing himself forward. His own claws extended, fangs bared as he struck back, tearing through the shadowy flesh. The creature hissed, its form distorting, but it did not stop.
They clashed.
Flesh ripped.
Blood spilled.
Aeron fought like a beast, like something primal, but the thing before him—it was limitless.
And then—
It spoke again.
"You were never meant to survive."
And the ground collapsed.
Aeron fell.
Falling through darkness.
Through memories.
Through the curse itself.
---
The Origin of the Hunger
When Aeron opened his eyes, he was not in the void.
He was in the past.
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of blood and incense.
And in the center of the chamber—
Malik stood before an altar.
And upon that altar—
A blackened artifact.
A twisted, pulsating fragment of something ancient, something wrong. A shard of pure hunger, forged from a time before men, before gods.
The source of Aeron's curse.
He saw it all.
How Malik had taken it.
How he had tried to harness its power.
How, in desperation, he had sealed it within his own son.
A child cursed before he had even drawn breath.
Aeron's fists clenched.
And as the vision faded, as reality came rushing back, as he landed back in the void—
He knew what he had to do.
He would devour it.
---
The Devouring of Fate
The shadow creature lunged again—
But this time, Aeron did not retreat.
He moved through it, his hand plunging into the core of its form.
And there—
He felt it.
The artifact.
Still inside him.
Still binding him.
Still controlling him.
Aeron's grip tightened.
And with a monstrous snarl—
He ripped it free.
The world shattered.
The creature screamed, its form unraveling, tendrils of darkness writhing, trying to take him with it.
But Aeron did not falter.
He brought the artifact to his mouth.
And he bit down.
Darkness erupted.
It clawed at him, raged against him, tried to consume him.
But he was stronger.
Because he was the hunger now.
He devoured it whole.
The abyss trembled.
And then—
Everything collapsed.
---
The Fall of Malik
Aeron opened his eyes.
He was back in the fortress.
And before him—
Malik.
His father's expression was unreadable.
But his fear was unmistakable.
"You…" Malik's voice was hoarse. "You were never meant to be this."
Aeron rose to his feet.
The hunger no longer screamed.
It no longer commanded him.
Because now—
He was the hunger.
"You tried to control me," Aeron said softly.
Malik's grip tightened on his sword. "I tried to save you."
Aeron tilted his head. "You failed."
And then he moved.
Malik swung—too slow.
Aeron was already behind him.
Fangs sank into Malik's throat.
His father gasped.
For the first time—
Malik felt what it was like to be devoured.
---
The End of a Father, The Birth of a God
Malik struggled.
But it was useless.
His power. His knowledge. His soul.
All of it—
Gone.
And when it was over, Aeron stood alone.
No corpse.
No blood.
Just silence.
And in that silence—
He smiled.
Because for the first time—
He was truly free.
But deep inside, he knew.
The hunger would never stop.
Nothing would ever be enough.
Because he had not just consumed his father.
He had consumed fate itself.
And the world—
Would be next.