When a god begins to starve, it fades.
When a Devourer starves, it feeds harder.
And now, deep in the underlayers of reality—where thought hardens into shadow and forgotten prayers pool like rot—it began to stir.
Not a god of form.Not a god of name.A god of need.
The last fallback of those too afraid to choose:
"Take everything, just save me."
It had no shape.No temples.No faithful.
Only addiction.
The craving for answers without effort. Power without pain. Peace without presence.
And as the world quieted, as cities chose breath over begging, the Devourer howled.
Not with voice.
With pull.
Aarav felt it before the wind carried the news.
A city in the south had vanished overnight.
Not destroyed.
Emptied.
No bodies.No sounds.Just walls dripping with the echo of fear.
At the center, a single word burned into stone:
"MORE."
Aarav rose.
His flame no longer flickered.
It didn't burn for light.
It burned to cleanse.