The atmosphere at NovaMyst Academy had become stiflingly tense, like the moments before a storm. Whispers followed Nate wherever he went, the hushed tones filled with a mix of awe, fear, and disdain. They called it the "Vanishing Massacre Incident," a grim moniker that had spread like wildfire through the halls.

Nate walked through the grand corridors, the opulent architecture now a twisted reminder of the academy's darker underbelly. The hallways were lined with intricately carved arches and glowing Aetherium wards, casting an eerie light that did little to lift the oppressive mood. The scent of aged wood and polished marble mingled with an undercurrent of something sharper, like a faint metallic tang that lingered from the incident.

As he approached Professor Lillian's classroom for AetherTech Fundamentals, the murmurs grew louder, the stares more brazen.

Inside the class, the morning light filtered through the high windows, but it did little to lift the spirits of those inside. The students, most of them appearing hollow-eyed and bruised, slumped in their seats. The air was thick with fatigue and a low-simmering resentment that seemed ready to spill over at the smallest spark. Professor Lillian observed the scene with his usual sardonic expression, though a flicker of concern creased his brow.

At the back of the class, Susana Bently sat beside Anton. Over the past weeks, they'd developed a quiet understanding; she'd offered him some unspoken kinship in her own way, and he allowed her presence without objection. For Susana, Anton was different—someone who saw through her bluntness and didn't shrink away. But today, she was visibly shaken, her eyes red-rimmed and slightly swollen, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Hey," Anton murmured, his gaze shifting to her hands. "What happened?"

She hesitated, biting her lip, then leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. "It's... it's those damn Mark students again. They've been... pushing things further. Much further." She swallowed, her voice trembling. "Yesterday, they cornered me. They—took pictures, Anton. You know, not the kind you'd want others to see. And now... they're threatening to release them unless I... do things for them. Whatever they want." Her face crumpled, and she looked away, her voice breaking. "They almost did worse."

Anton's eyes darkened, his fists clenching under the desk. "Did you report it?"

"They're Marks, Anton," she replied bitterly. "You know what that means. Reporting them would just make things worse."

Before he could respond, Professor Lillian clapped his hands, redirecting the students' attention to the front. He studied their worn faces for a moment, a flicker of something like empathy crossing his face before it vanished. "Seems I've lost you already," he said dryly, glancing between the students' blank expressions. "Let's get our heads back into class. How about one of you gives a breakdown of our available magics and the various CAT devices? A refresher to wake everyone up?"

Silence.

No one moved, the reluctance palpable. Professor Lillian scanned the room, but even his usual jest couldn't lift their spirits. They were shadows of themselves. When it became clear that no one would volunteer, he cleared his throat, his voice a shade softer than usual. "You all seem defeated. But remember, knowledge is a weapon—one even the Marks can't take from you." His tone sharpened, his words deliberate. "Some may say that if enough people understood just how fragile this system of 'magic supremacy' is, they'd... rethink a few things."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Anti-magic talk, especially among the elite, was borderline heretical. Yet Lillian's expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the students as if daring them to question it.

He turned back to the board, sketching three distinct shapes that represented the three CAT types. "First, we have General CATs. Equipped to store up to a hundred magical sequences, these devices allow a broad range of spells for practically any scenario." He tapped the board for emphasis. "Think of these as the jack-of-all-trades in the world of spellcasting. But they're high maintenance. They place a large burden on the user. Too many options, and each one needs its own set of adjustments if you want any real control."

He shifted to the next diagram, a streamlined, almost weapon-like form. "Restricted CATs. Smaller range—only ten spells maximum, but far more efficient in combat. Why? These devices are finely tuned to one specific kind of magic. Minimal adjustments needed, meaning faster cast times. Lethal as hell in the right hands."

Nate listened, his mind drifting as Lillian continued, the professor's voice blending into a murmur. It had been a week since he'd seen Elysia, and he found himself missing her more with each passing day. There was a sense of grounding she brought, a calm he couldn't find anywhere else in this damn school. He glanced over at Anton, who was similarly lost in thought, his expression tense. Irina had been a ghost lately, tied up with her own obligations, and he could tell the distance was weighing on Anton.

Professor Lillian's voice grew darker as he outlined the final type. "Integrated Armament CATs. Single spell, single purpose. No flexibility. But they don't need it. These devices are direct extensions of the wielder, usually in the form of weapons. Perfect for physical enhancements or focused abilities like shields. You don't get more than one shot with these, but that one shot can be devastating."

A silence fell over the room as Lillian finished, his expression almost grim. "Every single one of these devices works by accessing your Aetherium, absorbing it, and converting it into Aether Scripts that can 'overwrite' information data—sóma—in both the physical world and its mirrored dimension. Once absorbed from the CAT device, the spell sequence goes through your brain, translating it into something you can control, with the CAT itself serving as an intermediary."

He paused, watching as the students absorbed this information. "Remember, your CAT is as powerful as you are, but also as corruptible. It's a tool—a dangerous one, and in the wrong hands..." He shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid. "Which brings me to magic categories. Just as CATs have tiers, so too do the types of magic they control. Let's start with Reality Modulation."

Moving to the board, he sketched a complex symbol. "Reality Modulation magic operates by affecting the world directly through changing its properties. Momentum and Mass are the first of these. Momentum magic lets you manipulate inertia—speeding or slowing down any object in motion. Mass, on the other hand, allows you to control an object's weight—useful for feats of strength and agility." His eyes lingered on Susana, his tone almost a warning.

"Then there's Vector and Resonance Modulation. Vector lets you alter a target's direction without affecting its inertia. Resonance, however, is all about vibrations—you can generate heat, sound, or disrupt structures at the molecular level."

Nate shifted uncomfortably, recalling Anton's ability to manipulate energy flows at will, a capability that went far beyond standard Resonance Modulation.

"Focus and Diffusion Modulation are next," Lillian continued. "Focus isolates a target area, gathering specific particles or gases. Diffusion disperses them. And last, we have Ingestion and Emission magic—Ingestion manipulates particle interaction, absorption, while Emission pushes them outward, creating effects like explosive releases or destructive bursts."

He turned back to face them, his gaze solemn. "And then... we have Spectral and Cognitive Reformation. Spectral interacts with spiritual or mental planes; Cognitive Reformation, however—" He stopped, looking directly at Nate and Anton. "—is what most of you have probably heard of as 'forbidden magic.' It reshapes minds, memories, desires. It's rare, but potent." His voice hardened. "And deadly in the wrong hands."

The room was quiet, some students shifting uncomfortably, others looking at the floor. Anton's eyes were fixed on Lillian, his mind racing. This entire structure—the CAT devices, the categories of magic—was designed to maintain control, to keep the powerful in check, but at the same time, it had created a caste system where those without certain abilities were systematically oppressed. He could feel a swell of anger, the old resentment surfacing.

Professor Lillian finished, leaning back on his desk, his voice soft but cutting. "You all have access to knowledge and power here that can change the world. It's up to you how you use it. Don't let them make you into tools." He glanced at the clock. "Take fifteen. Stretch, think, do whatever you need."

Most students took the chance to leave, trailing out in a line. Susana, however, bolted for the door, her shoulders shaking, the threat hanging over her too heavy to bear. Anton watched her go, feeling a surge of anger, he didn't fully understand. Nate caught his eye, nodding toward the exit.

"I'm out. Can't sit through any more of this." Nate's voice was a low growl.

Anton nodded absently, his gaze still on the door where Susana had disappeared. "Fine. But this isn't going away. Lillian's right—this is all one big puppet show, and we're being forced to play along."

Nate snorted. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know. But hey, that's NovaMyst for you."

The tension was suffocating. The halls buzzed with the poisonous energy of whispered rumours, jeers, and sidelong glances. The Blanks were especially scrutinized eyes darting to and from the blank teal uniforms they wore, which bore none of the privileged black stripe on the shoulder reserved for the Marks. Nate felt the sting of derision from every corner, the institutional resentment so thick he could almost taste it.

As they entered the open courtyard, a familiar noise caught their attention. A crowd had gathered at the center, with Marks standing out, their teal uniforms adorned with the black shoulder stripe. A few of the female Marks sported the white capes draped over their all-black attire, skirts swaying as they pointed and laughed at the spectacle in the centre of the crowd.

At the heart of it was a Blank student, surrounded by Marks who moved in on him like wolves. But this Blank wasn't backing down. He moved with a practiced intensity, dodging the Marks' punches with ease and countering their attacks in a way that was both vicious and calculated. He didn't have the benefit of a CAT device, yet his movements held an effortless, almost instinctual magic.

"That's not just luck," Nate muttered, studying the Blank's precise manoeuvres. "He's using something more, channelling it naturally."

Anton's eyes narrowed, noting the subtle, raw energy flickering in the air around the Blank. "Innate magic. It's just flowing out of him, unrestrained, like he was born with it."

One of the Marks lunged, fists crackling with a faint surge of magic as he struck out. The Blank sidestepped at the last second, capturing the Mark's arm and twisting it, forcing him to the ground. The crowd watched in stunned silence, the usual sneers shifting to something close to begrudging respect.

Nate stepped forward as the Blank straightened, breathing heavily, yet standing with defiance. "What's your name?"

The Blank's gaze remained steady. "Evan. Evan Parker."

Nate's mouth quirked up in a smirk. "Well, Evan, you've got a decent punch. Keep using it."

Evan gave a stiff nod, looking wary and defiant at the same time. "It's not about impressing people," he said, voice low. "It's survival. Plain and simple."

"Nice," Nate murmured, glancing at Anton before pivoting sharply and walking in the opposite direction, the beginnings of an idea sparking in his mind.

Anton sighed, looking between Nate and the dispersing crowd. "What the hell are you planning?"

But Nate was already halfway down the corridor. "Do your job as always, Parker over there gave me an idea."

Nate's footsteps echoed as he made his way down the corridor to the student council office. The tension from the earlier confrontation still lingered in his mind, stoking the fire of a new idea—a solution that was as much about defence as it was about community.

When he reached the office, Chloe Rawllings, the student council president, glanced up from her paperwork, her expression guarded. Dressed in the standard all-black Marks uniform, her white cape draped over her shoulder like a badge of authority, she held herself with a composed calm that was becoming her trademark.

She raised an eyebrow as he entered. "Nate," she greeted coolly, gesturing for him to sit. "This is your second time here in a week. What's going on?"

"Something big," Nate replied without missing a beat. He didn't sit, instead leaning against her desk with an intense focus. "The academy is imploding, Chloe. You know it as well as I do. If we want a real solution, we need to start from the ground up. And I've got a proposal."

Chloe tilted her head, her expression growing more attentive. "Go on."

Nate wasted no time. "We need to make changes, Chloe. The Blanks, the whole system—none of this is working. The enforcers don't have real authority; we're just making empty threats. We need something tangible—a negative point system for students who push boundaries. When those points reach a certain threshold, there need to be consequences, not just wrist slaps."

Chloe's fingers tapped rhythmically against her desk as she listened, her expression impassive. "You're talking about restructuring half the enforcement system."

"Yeah, and the CAT devices," Nate continued, his voice hardening. "Blanks need the right to carry them for self-defence. Right now, only enforcers have that privilege, and the Marks abuse it, knowing the Blanks won't dare use their CATs in retaliation. It's an uneven playing field."

Chloe regarded him thoughtfully, but Nate could see the spark of interest in her gaze. He pressed on, his voice dropping lower. "But it's not just about rules and CAT devices. We need to give people something outside of all this tension—a reason to stay out of trouble. Clubs."

Chloe raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Clubs?"

"Yeah. Think about it," Nate explained, his voice quickening. "We start school clubs. Sports, music, literature, science—whatever students are passionate about. We can set up clubs where Blanks and Marks have to work together, have to actually interact beyond the usual insults and fights. It'll give people a space to connect over common interests, something other than their rank or background. If we're going to fix this mess, we have to bridge the gaps, not just create more divides. Plus, inside these clubs conflict is strictly forbidden, and should you break those rules, then serious punishment will be applied to you.

Chloe's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt. Nate could feel her considering it, turning it over in her mind.

"And one more thing," Nate added, leaning in closer. "A Self-Defense Club. Somewhere Blanks can learn how to hold their own without relying on CAT devices. Or at least learn how to use them in a way they can at least defend themselves. Look around you, Chloe. The Marks might think they're untouchable, but the rest of us? We're targets. If we can give Blanks a way to defend themselves, to build real confidence, maybe the Marks will start to think twice before going on power trips."

Chloe's fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of her desk, her gaze sharpening. "So, you're suggesting we not only allow clubs but actively encourage them as a bridge between Blanks and Marks? And that we teach Blanks how to fight back, in an organized environment?"

"Exactly, and Voiders too." Nate replied, his voice steady. "You're smart enough to see the bigger picture here. Clubs give students a stake in the community. It's a way to give them something to work for that doesn't involve bullying each other, and it'll make the school feel like less of a war zone."

Chloe sat back, exhaling slowly as she processed his words. "Nate, what you're proposing is ambitious. The council has never been asked to greenlight something this radical, and there's no guarantee anyone will go along with it."

Nate held her gaze, unflinching. "Then let's make them. You've got influence. People listen to you. If you push for this, if you're willing to break some rules for a real shot at changing this place, maybe others will follow, what's the point of being a Rawllings if you can't use it for good things sometimes?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A male council member in a sharp teal uniform with a black shoulder stripe scoffed from his seat. "You think she'll back a Blank's crusade to overturn the school's order? You're out of your mind."

Nate's eyes flashed. "Say that again and I'll make sure you're the first person who learns just how serious this Blank is."

"Now now everyone let us all take a deep breath. Chloe says. But then, a faint, dangerous smile curved her lips.

"I'll bring it up at the next council meeting," Chloe said, her tone measured but not dismissive. "The idea of clubs might actually appeal to the higher-ups as a form of...containment. Organized distractions, you might call it. The Self-Defence Club, though? That'll be harder. They won't want to see Blanks becoming capable of fighting back. But I'll see what I can do."

A wave of relief washed over Nate, though he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Thanks, Chloe. I know it's risky, but this place is already falling apart. Might as well take a shot at building something better before it goes down completely."

As he turned to leave, Chloe's voice stopped him. "Nate?"

He looked back, finding her gaze unexpectedly intense. "If this goes sideways, it's your head on the chopping block. They won't hesitate to pin the blame on you if the council gets pushback. Are you really ready for that?"

Nate smirked, letting his own voice drip with unguarded defiance. "I'm a Blank at NovaMyst. My head's already halfway on the block. Might as well make it worth something."

Chloe chuckled, shaking her head as he left. The sound echoed in his ears as he stepped into the hallway, where Anton stood, his arms crossed and expression skeptical.

"What the hell did you just promise?" Anton asked, a darkly amused eyebrow raised.

Nate flashed a grin, adrenaline coursing through him. "Just a new future for this hellhole. No big deal."

They walked on in silence, both of them aware that the stakes had just risen, and that whatever happened next could either save NovaMyst—or set it on fire.

The summons came late in the afternoon, just as Nate felt the familiar ache twisting inside him, sharp and relentless. He hadn't eaten—really eaten—in days, maybe weeks. It was like there was a hole inside him, an emptiness that no amount of food or drink could fill. The need clawed at him, gnawing with a sick hunger that blurred his vision, made his hands shake, and kept him awake at night with a pulsing desperation he couldn't name. In the dim light of the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. What stared back was barely recognizable: his eyes, once sharp and bright, were now sunken, shadowed with dark hollows beneath. His usually olive skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor, almost gray in places. His cheekbones were sharper, his jaw harder, and his hair fell in a wild mess over his forehead. He looked... haunted, like something from the wrong side of a nightmare. And maybe he was. He wasn't sure anymore. This hunger, this emptiness, it felt like it was rotting him from the inside out, inch by inch.

"Hey." Anton's voice cut through his thoughts from the doorway, snapping him back to the present. "We're going to be late. "Nate met Anton's gaze in the mirror, his own eyes glazed, his vision swimming. He managed a thin smile. "Yeah, yeah. Coming." But his voice sounded strange—rough, like gravel grinding against stone. Anton frowned, concern flickering in his eyes as he looked Nate up and down. "You look like hell."Nate let out a laugh, though it came out more like a rasp. "Ha! You have no idea." He forced himself upright, pushing down the nausea roiling in his stomach, forcing himself to ignore the aching need gnawing through his bones. Together, they made their way down the grand corridors of NovaMyst. Each step felt heavier than the last, shadows stretching and shifting in the corners of his vision as he walked. His hands trembled, though he clenched them into fists to hide it.

They reached the council chamber, where the rest of the student council waited, seated around a long, dark table in a room filled with the faint glimmer of enchanted wards etched into the walls. At the head of the table sat Chloe Rawllings, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in Nate's appearance. Across from her, Irina and Elysia sat side-by-side, their expressions unreadable. But Nate caught the flash of concern in Irina's gaze and the tense set of Elysia's jaw as they glanced at him.

Chloe's voice cut through the room as they entered. "Thank you for joining us, gentlemen," she said, gesturing for them to take their seats. "We're here to discuss the proposals Nate submitted regarding security, discipline, and the establishment of new clubs." Her eyes locked on him, cool and assessing. "These are... bold suggestions. "Nate slid into his seat, the familiar ache inside him flaring up again as his vision blurred for a split second. He gritted his teeth, forcing the world back into focus, and cleared his throat. "Bold, maybe. But necessary."

A wiry council member with wire-rimmed glasses sneered, leaning forward. "Necessary? You want us to hand out CAT devices to everyone in the academy, let anyone who feels 'threatened' run around armed, and create a self-defence club for 'community bonding'? We're an academy, not a military base. And arming students like that... it's reckless."

Nate's lip curled, his patience worn thin by the constant, gnawing hunger twisting inside him. He had to remind himself to stay calm, to keep his tone steady. "The problem isn't the rules," he said, voice low and sharp. "It's that the Marks ignore them, and there are no consequences. Giving everyone access to CAT devices for self-defence isn't about breaking rules—it's about leveling the field."

The council member opened his mouth to retort, but Chloe raised a hand, silencing him. She turned back to Nate, her gaze thoughtful. "You're suggesting a significant shift in policy, Nate. It's not something we can just implement without considering the long-term effects."

Nate dug his nails into his palms under the table, his hands trembling slightly. The hunger was getting worse, a low throb at the back of his mind, whispering to him, eroding his focus. He forced himself to speak, though his voice wavered. "If we don't do this, if we don't give people a way to defend themselves, we're just feeding the tension here. The Marks think they're untouchable because they are. And the Blanks... they're starting to snap under the pressure. And the Voiders..." He trailed off, the weight of his words heavy in the silence that followed.

Irina spoke up, her voice steady but soft. "He's not wrong. We've all seen the fights, the bullying. It's not sustainable. If we don't give people an outlet, something constructive, it's only going to get worse."

The Vice President, sitting at the far end of the table, scoffed. "And a self-defense club is going to fix that? A few drills, some sparring sessions—that's not going to make people forget the power imbalance here."

Nate gave a cold smile, pushing past the nausea rolling through him. "No. I'm not naive enough to think it'll make them forget. But it's a start. People need a way to channel their frustration, a way to belong. Right now, they're tearing each other apart because they have nothing else. Clubs, self-defence training... it gives them a purpose." He hesitated, then leaned forward, the ghost of an idea forming in his mind. "In fact, we could introduce these changes as part of a new tradition. Let's create a festival—like a competition, a sports event, where students can channel their energy into something productive."

Chloe tapped her fingers thoughtfully. "You mentioned our course on Magical Defence and Security. How would this... proposal of yours fit within that framework? "Nate clenched his fists again, feeling a surge of purpose cut through the haze of hunger. "We already have a course that covers Magical Defence and Security—counterspells, wards, magical safeguards. But it's all theory, all enchantments focused on protecting devices and networks. Why not teach students how to defend themselves as well?" He let his voice harden. "After all, what's the point of an academy if not to train us to become effective mages?"

The wiry boy sneered, "And you think students can just set aside their grudges and hold hands because we throw them in a club together?"

Nate's smile sharpened, his exhaustion barely masked by the hint of defiance in his eyes. "No. I know better than that. But it's better than letting things go the way they are. People need a way to channel their anger—a purpose. Give them that or watch them turn on each other." Beneath the words, there was something darker—almost as if Nate *wanted* the tension to erupt, to keep himself occupied, to draw focus away from... whatever was rotting him from the inside out.

Irina nodded, adding her support. "He's right. This isn't just about teaching self-defense. It's about providing structure. People need to feel like they're working toward something, even if it's just an illusion of control."

Chloe sat back, her fingers steepled as she considered the arguments. The council members exchanged glances, some skeptical, others thoughtful. Finally, she nodded. "All right," she said. "We'll allow a trial period for the Self-Defence Club and for the CAT device permissions, as well as this festival proposal of yours. But," she added, her gaze hardening as it settled on Nate, "if this escalates tensions beyond what we can control, we'll shut it down immediately. Understood?"

Nate inclined his head, fighting to keep his composure. He forced a smirk, though it cost him more energy than he wanted to admit. "Understood." He gave a mocking salute, masking the way his vision swam, the hunger clawing at him harder.

As the council began to adjourn, Irina lingered, her gaze on him with a flicker of worry she didn't bother to hide. "You look... terrible," she said softly, her voice laced with frustration.

Nate forced another grin, though it felt brittle. "Good to know you care."Elysia stepped forward, crossing her arms, her eyes hard. "You can't keep going like this, Nate. Whatever's eating at you, you need to face it."

Nate's expression hardened. "I'm fine. This is just... part of the deal."

Anton, who had stayed quiet throughout the meeting, finally spoke, his voice low and rough. "There's a difference between 'managing' and letting yourself rot from the inside out." His gaze was sharp, challenging. "Maybe it's time you stopped pretending you're invincible."

Nate opened his mouth to retort but stopped. He saw the concern in their eyes—the kind that didn't care about clever remarks or charming grins. For a moment, he felt something like warmth, a reminder he wasn't alone. But then the ache twisted inside him, sharper than ever, and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching for something—*someone*—to steady himself.

"Let's just get through this," he muttered, turning away, hiding the exhaustion in his eyes. He couldn't let them see how close he was to breaking.

Night had long since settled over NovaMyst, the halls and grounds shrouded in darkness and silence. The academy operated with strict curfew rules, but that didn't stop Elysia from moving through the shadows with practiced ease, her footfalls as quiet as the drifting fog outside. She knew the risks—especially for someone like her, a Mark, venturing into the Blanks' dormitories. But that didn't stop her.

She paused at Nate's door, listening for any sound within. When she heard nothing, she placed her hand on the handle and slipped inside.

Nate was sprawled on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He didn't look up when she entered, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "You know," he murmured, voice rough, "you really shouldn't be here. Blanks' dorms are already off-limits for you lot, and the men's dorms? That's pushing it."

Elysia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "Oh, please. You did the same thing for me not that long ago. Consider this a return favour."

Nate let out a low chuckle but winced, his hand clutching at his side as if trying to steady himself. Elysia's expression softened as she stepped closer. She took a breath, carefully choosing her words before speaking.

"Drakkar," she said quietly, calling him by his true name, "I know you're not... doing well. I've noticed the way you look, the way you carry yourself. It's your hunger, isn't it?"

Nate hesitated, his gaze shifting away from her, his jaw clenched. He could feel the familiar pang of need clawing at him, the hunger he tried so desperately to hide. For a long moment, he said nothing, but the weight of her gaze pulled at him, made it harder to lie. Finally, he exhaled, shoulders slumping as he nodded.

"Yes," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's my hunger."

Elysia watched him, her eyes narrowing in concern. "How does it work, exactly? I know you're... not like the rest of us, but I don't understand what that really means. Why can't you just... eat normally?"

Nate shifted uncomfortably, his fingers curling into the fabric of his bedsheets as he considered his answer. He wasn't used to explaining this part of himself; it felt too raw, too close to a truth he preferred to keep hidden.

"I need Aetherium to survive," he said, his voice hollow. "But not the kind the academy uses. Their supply... it's diluted, not pure enough. For someone like me, I need... a stronger source. The only way to get it is from human souls. Or alternatively..." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Or from life force. But that's... much harder to obtain."

Elysia's eyes widened, a flicker of shock crossing her face. She took a steadying breath, composing herself. "What do you mean, 'harder to obtain'? What are the restrictions?"

Nate's jaw tightened, and he averted his gaze. "It doesn't matter. It's not an option."

"Drakkar," she pressed, her tone soft but insistent, "tell me."

He closed his eyes, the hunger gnawing at him, relentless, until he finally forced himself to answer. "Life force can only be taken through... certain kinds of intimacy. It works like... a transfer. Through touch, during... well..." He trailed off, but the implication hung heavy between them.

Elysia's face flushed, a mixture of surprise and discomfort flashing across her features. Her mouth opened to speak, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. Nate caught her reaction and forced a strained chuckle, attempting to break the tension.

"See? It's a bit ridiculous, right?" He waved his hand dismissively, trying to brush off the conversation. "Forget I said anything. You shouldn't have come here, anyway."

But as he shifted to rise from the bed, his vision blurred, and he stumbled. Elysia lunged forward, catching him by the shoulders before he could fall, her hands steadying him as he wavered. She helped him back onto the bed, her expression now determined, resolute.

"Feed on me," she said, her voice firm.

Nate's eyes shot open, a spark of horror flashing through them as he tried to pull away. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not going to—"

She held him in place, her grip unyielding. "You're starving yourself. You won't survive like this, Nate." Her voice softened, and she looked him square in the eyes. "Let me help you."

He shook his head, a hint of panic in his gaze. "I can't. I... I won't do that to you."

Elysia's expression hardened, her grip tightening on his shoulders. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes, something he hadn't seen in a long time—the cold, commanding glint of authority. She was his master, his owner, and they both knew it.

"Nate," she said, her voice low and unyielding. "As your master, I'm ordering you. Feed on me."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the room, and Nate's resistance faltered, his gaze dropping to the floor. He could feel the bond pulsing between them, the undeniable connection that made it impossible to refuse her command. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded, his heart pounding as he reached for her, his fingers trembling as they grazed her arm.

"Are you... are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt.

Elysia's face softened, her gaze steady as she gave him a small nod. "Yes. I trust you."

With a shaky breath, Nate closed his eyes, letting the hunger rise to the surface. He leaned forward, brushing his lips lightly against the pulse at her neck, his senses sharpening as he drew closer. He could feel the warmth of her life force thrumming beneath her skin, a tantalizing surge of energy that called to him, beckoned him closer.

Elysia's body tensed at the first touch, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she reached up, fingers grazing his jaw with an uncharacteristic softness. It was as if she were steadying not just him, but herself as well. The room seemed to shrink around them, the boundaries between predator and offering blurring in the dim light that spilled through the gaps in the curtains.

"Nate," she whispered, her voice breaking the heavy silence. There was a tremor there, a mix of nerves and trust—a trust that felt fragile and profound all at once. The word hit him like a lightning strike, making him pause, his breath ragged against her skin. It wasn't just the hunger that burned in his chest, but something deeper, more human. A need that went beyond sustenance.

He opened his eyes, and for a moment, their gazes met. Hers, guarded but resolute, and his, shadowed with an emotion he couldn't name. When he leaned in again, it was with more intent. His lips parted against her neck, the contact searing, and he could feel her shiver beneath him. His heart raced in sync with hers, the anticipation thickening the air between them.

A shudder ran down Elysia's spine as his mouth trailed down the side of her throat, teeth grazing the delicate skin. The sensation was electric, a heady mix of fear and exhilaration. She clutched at the front of his uniform, her grip tight as though bracing herself. Nate's hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The sound of their breathing filled the room, mingling in a symphony of tension and need.

Then, the shift happened.

A guttural growl rumbled in Nate's throat as the first taste of her life force flooded his senses. It was intoxicating, more potent than anything he'd ever known. His vision swam, darkening at the edges as the hunger took over, a violent, all-consuming force that drowned out reason. His hands slid down to her waist, pinning her down and placing one of his knees in between her legs.

"Stop, Nate," she murmured, her voice hesitant but unyielding. She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Don't lose yourself to this."

But it was already too late. The hunger roared to life, drowning out everything else. A surge of energy crackled between them, the very air shivering with an unnatural tension. Nate's control shattered like glass, and with a quick swift movement he moved one of his hands and place it around her neck, kissing her and drawing out more life force.

Elysia's breath caught in her throat, the sharp sting making her eyes widen. The energy flowed from her into him, a current that was both exhilarating and terrifying. Her fingers clenched into fists, nails biting into his skin, but her protests were swallowed by the overwhelming pull of his need.

"Nate... enough," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. The shock of it sent a shudder through her, and her fingers clenched in his hair, caught between the instinct to push him away and pull him closer.

The bond flared to life, an invisible shackle tightening around Nate's mind. For a moment, he froze, muscles locked as if struck by lightning. His eyes, once a dark, fathomless pit, cleared enough for recognition—and horror. He stumbled back, releasing her so quickly that she crumpled to her knees, trembling. Her hand went instinctively to her front, CAT ready in hand.

Elysia looked up, eyes wide with something she hadn't let herself feel before—fear. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths as she met his gaze, now no longer shadowed by hunger but by guilt and panic.

"Stay away from me," she whispered, but the tremor in her voice betrayed the depth of her terror. The command in the bond sealed her words, and Nate felt it, like a cold chain wrapping around his heart. His face twisted in agony.

"Elysia, I—" he started, but she raised her hand to stop him, the gesture shaking.

"No. Don't. Just don't," she said, her voice raw. She pushed herself to her feet, unsteady, swaying as she did. The green and blue of her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and the harsh light made the concealed difference between them gleam momentarily. Her hand found the wall to steady herself, and she glanced at him one last time, eyes filled with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.

"Did you do this because your family wants to be free of mine?" The question fell between them like a blade, cutting through the suffocating silence. The words struck deep, and Nate's breath caught in his chest.

"No! I would never—" he tried, voice breaking, but she shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"Don't say anything," she interrupted, her voice brittle. "I should have listened to my father. He was right. Once a demon, always a demon." The accusation hit him with the force of a punch, and his vision blurred, the room tilting as weakness surged through him. She staggered toward the door, every step echoing with the sound of something breaking between them.

"I trusted you, Nate," she said, voice softer now, more like a confession to herself. "And you wouldn't even listen... I was worried about you, and you just—" Her voice cracked, and she turned away, slipping out the door before the words could spill further.

Nate's knees gave way, and he collapsed to the floor, vision darkening as exhaustion overtook him. He reached out, fingers brushing the place where she'd stood moments before, the emptiness in the room suffocating. Her scent still lingered, sweet and familiar, a cruel reminder of what he'd just destroyed.

Then darkness claimed him, leaving only the echo of her voice.