Another leg came free of the corpse with the wet sound of tearing meat. The dripping appendage was easily as large as a full-grown man, but as it went into his maw, he felt nothing. The hunger wanted more, demanded more. These bodies . . . they were the greatest glut of food that he’d come across since fleeing to these woods, and they still weren’t enough.

He could feel them settling into his lower body, feel them begin to break up and be absorbed into his form. There was some relief, the hunger losing its edge, even if it didn’t lose its teeth, but that was all. There was no satisfaction, no satiation! The hunger didn’t just want meat, it wanted more. It wanted the bright power he could taste in that distant figure, the same power he’d supped upon when he consumed the elf-girl.

Power, that was what his body wanted. Power, not simply flesh.

Well, whatever his body wanted, it seemed as though it had been denied today. The winged figure had turned out to be stronger than the elf-girl. In truth, he wasn’t too sure how he felt about that. Before there had been anger, fury at what he had seen, but it had been hot, fast, burning out quickly and leaving him feeling hollow again. He supposed he should have been happy that the winged man had managed to escape being devoured, but it was as though he lacked the energy or even the will to care.

It all seemed so pointless, what did he or his desires matter? Every day he seemed to have less and less control over his monstrous side, every day he seemed to be sinking into it more. How long until-

*Hey! Hey, can you hear me?*

For a moment he was so startled that even his body paused in its eating. It didn’t last long though, and the tentacles resumed their delivery of food into his maw.

*Hey! Can! You! Hear! Me!*

It was a bit louder now, but this time his body didn’t even pause in response.

He didn’t either, as depressing as it was to admit, this wasn’t anything too new to him. He didn’t know if it was a part of his . . . transformation, some other power that he couldn’t control, or if it was just a sign that he was coming undone, but he had heard voices before. Most of the time they were nonsensical, barely more than gibberish. Other times they were snatches of conversations, as though he was just hearing one side of it. then there were the pleas, the repetitions of the last moments of some of those poor bastards that had met their ends due to his inability to control the hunger. Worst of all were the angry voices, the accusatory ones. They railed at him and accused him of being weak, of being uncaring, of being a monster. They spoke in the voices of his victims, but truly, he didn’t know if they were real, or if they were simply the echoes of his guilt and self-hatred bouncing around inside his skull.

He didn’t want to have to deal with this, not now, not ever really. He just wanted to do what he could to satiate the hunger, then return to his cave so he could sleep again. With any luck this winged figure would just fly away, taking his taste far enough that the hunger could no longer sense it. He didn’t want to hear how he was a monster! He didn’t want to have to worry if his flagging sanity was finally beginning to break! He didn’t want-

*HEY! CAN! YOU! HEAR! THIS?!*

It was louder this time. Not painfully so, but enough that he paused again, this time looking about himself.

*HAH! YOU DID HEAR THAT ONE! WELL, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! LOOK UP IF YOU CAN!*

Almost without thinking about it, he reared up, his human eyes swinging to stare up into the blue sky, the floating figure that was out of his reach was the only thing that marred the expanse of blue. The winged man was staring down at him, the look of concentration on his face clear despite the distance between them.

*OKAY, SO YOU CAN HEAR ME. CAN YOU REPLY? HEY, COME ON! SAY SOMETHING.*

Again, the words rang in his head, not painful but definitely unsettling. They didn’t belong in his mind, but they were there all the same, and he had the growing certainty that they were real.

“H-hello?”

It was strange to hear his voice asking the single-word question. In the past months, he’d only heard himself speak in desperation or anger, distorted by both his emotions and his transformation. Now, to his surprise, he sounded more human than he had since he’d begun to change.

*I HEARD THAT! OKAY . . . OKAY, YOU CAN HEAR ME. THAT’S GOOD. SO . . . WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME?*

He continued to stare up, unsure of just how he should feel.

“I . . . what?”

*WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME? WERE THOSE MONSTERS YOURS, OR SOMETHING?*

“What? No! No . . . those things just . . . showed up. I . . . I eat them when I get too hungry.”

*SO WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME?*

“I . . . I was hungry,” he admitted, somehow feeling shamed by the admission. “You . . . I . . . I didn’t want to!”

There was a pause, and he felt his body beginning to shift its balance, the thicker tendrils getting ready to move him if needed. Then the voice came again, and his form relaxed slightly, even as he felt his human body tense in expectation of more questions he didn’t want to answer.

*LOOK, WHAT’S YOUR NAME? *

That caught him off guard. His name? Gods, it had been weeks since he’d even really thought of it. It didn’t even feel like it belonged to him anymore, as though he’d changed so much that he wasn’t that person now. Still, he answered, an odd sense of urgency wanting to hear someone address him by that name, no matter how removed from it he felt.

“I . . . I’m Etienne Beaumot. I . . . I used to live in one of the towns nearby.”

It all came back in a flood, the things that he hadn’t thought about for what felt like ages. Things he hadn’t wanted to think about now that they were lost to him. His home, his parents, his siblings, even his cat . . . oh god his cat! He’d . . . he’d . . . his mind recoiled from the memory, and he started to feel the anger welling up again.

*ALRIGHT, ETIENNE, DO YOU KNOW HOW I CAN HELP YOU? CAN I JUST PULL YOU OUT OF THAT MONSTER, OR WOULD THAT JUST HURT YOU?*

For a moment he . . . Etienne, his name was Etienne- wasn’t entirely sure what the other was talking about, then it finally clicked. The winged figure thought that his monstrous self was . . . was separate, that it was a monster that had caught him and was eating him. A bout of hysterical laughter threatened to spill forth, but he swallowed it down.

“Look, you . . . you can’t! This monster, it’s . . . it’s me, okay? I . . . I became this, there’s nothing to save me from!”

Yes, there was no saving him. How could there be, he was a monster now

*HOW?* the confusion in the mental voice was crystal clear. *LOOK, I’VE BEEN SENT HERE TO SEE ABOUT ELIMINATING THE CAUSE OF ALL THESE MONSTERS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT CHANGED YOU? IF I CAN FIND IT THEN MAYBE . . .*

He might have said more, but Etienne was no longer listening. He thought he could save him? Didn’t he know that Etienne had thought of that so many times at the beginning?

“You . . . you can’t save me! YOU CAN’T SAVE ME!”

He repeated himself in a shout. It wasn’t the earth-shaking roar of before, rather it was an all too human bellow of frustration.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

*WHAT DO YOU MEAN?*

“I started to change before I came here!” The words just spilt out, the chance to finally tell anyone what had happened to him for the first time . . . he didn’t even think of holding back. “It was just after the Black Sun, and it happened so fast! At first, I just got stronger, but then my legs started to change, then they turned into tentacles, and then they grew into a monster! I ran! I . . . There was . . . I came here! But it just kept growing, and now, the monster is swallowing me up! It’s always hungry, and it’s going to eat me as well!”

It wasn’t entirely coherent, but it was how it had been for him, the hope at the beginning of getting powers, the horror as things went wrong, the fear as he had to run, and the despair as the monster he was becoming seemed to grow and grow until it would eclipse him.

*YOU’RE A DEMIGOD?*

Etienne almost laughed at that, a laugh that would have been filled with bitterness.

“Yeah, I think I am. That’s kind of funny, isn’t it? I . . . I think I was one of the first to get their powers. But while others got to fly, throw fire around, or make wolves appear out of shadows, I got to be a monster.”

Despite his best efforts a sour chuckle did escape, even as his eyes locked once more onto the figure in the sky.

“You’re a demigod, right? You’re one that got lucky. You got those wings, that power. You got to be beautiful, you got to be strong. And look what I got! I got to be a monster! I got to be so hungry that I can’t control myself! I got to live out here in the woods so I don’t EAT MORE PEOPLE!”

Even as he screamed the words he remembered. He’d run from home when the hunger grew too great, but he hadn’t run soon enough. On the edge of town, as he went stumbling towards the woods, he’d come across someone. He didn’t know who they were, being so lost in the gnawing ache that consumed him. He’d just seen the man approach, then a red haze had fallen over Etienne. When it fell away the hunger had receded and he’d been standing over nothing bloodstains, not even bones having been spared.

He’d fled! Sick with disgust and fear he’d run as deep into the forest as he could and tried to stay away from people. Twice it hadn’t been enough. Twice hikers had strayed too close and the hunger had taken over. Twice he’d been dragged along as the monster growing out of him had hunted and fed on humans again.

*HEY, CALM DOWN I-*

“WHY ME? WHY DID IT HAPPEN TO ME?! I DIDN’T WANT THIS! I DIDN’T WANT TO BE A MONSTER!”

For the first time, he had someone to hear him, to hear his frustration, his anger at an unfair world. At last, he had someone to hear him give vent to all that he’d been pushing down in an effort to stay sane.

“I DIDN’T WANT TO BE HUNGRY ALL THE TIME! I DIDN’T WANT THE MONSTER TO BE SO HUNGRY THAT IT TAKES OVER! I DIDN’T WANT TO HURT ANYONE! I . . . I DIDN’T WANT TO HAVE TO RUN TO KEEP MY FAMILY SAFE! I . . . I didn’t want to become a murderer!”

He lost strength as he spoke the last words, the terrified face of the elf-girl rising up in his mind as he remembered her last moments.

“I didn’t want to kill her, I didn’t! but . . . but she had so much power, and the hunger wanted her, and I . . . I couldn’t stop it. I . . . I kept away from people, but she came to me. And she smelled so good, and the hunger could taste her magic, and it wouldn’t stop, and . . .”

He knew he was rambling now, but he couldn’t stop. He just wanted to explain to someone, anyone really, that he wasn’t a monster. He was caught in one, maybe being slowly consumed by it, but he himself was not a monster. It might drag him along, make him feel its hunger, make him feel the sensation of the hunt and the kill, but it wasn’t him that was making the choices. Etienne Beaumot was not a murderer by choice, not by his own free will!

“I didn’t want this! I . . . I just wanted . . . When I heard about the first demigods I wanted that, I wanted to be special! It didn’t want this! I didn’t want . . . I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry I can’t stop it! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .”

It was too much, the tumble of words had devolved into an almost incoherent babble of apologies and explanations, both of which tapered off into mumbling that eventually came to an end. For a moment there was only silence, then the voice in his mind spoke again, quieter now, almost as though the speaker were trying to cajole a dangerous animal.

*Look . . . I want to help! What can I do?*

Help? He wanted to help?

“Help me? You want to help me?! What can you possibly do?! CAN YOU TURN BACK TIME SO I’M NOT A MURDERER?!”

His warped form rose up once more, the long limbs lifting him so he was now directly facing the distant figure.

“THERE WAS NO HELP BEFORE! THERE WAS NO HELP WHEN I . . . I . . .”

He shied away from the memory, from the guilt it brought! Instead, he focused on the one speaking to him, the other demigod. The one like himself, but . . .

“WHY YOU?! WHY YOU AND NOT ME?! LOOK AT YOU, YOU’VE GOT POWER! YOU’VE GOT LOOKS! YOU’VE GOT EVERYTHING YOU COULD WANT! SO WHY AM I A MONSTER, AND YOU AREN’T?! WHAT MADE THE DIFFERENCE?! WHY YOU AND NOT ME?!”

The world was starting to disappear under the familiar red sheen of rage. He welcomed it, letting it cover him like a blanket, a defence against the harshness of the world. While he raged then there was no fear, no guilt, no despair, only red anger that smothered all. Still, he kept shouting, even if he no longer thought about what he was saying.

“WHY YOU? WHY NOT ME?! WHY DO I HAVE TO SUFFER?! WHY DO I HAVE TO HURT?! WHY NOT YOU?! WHY ME?! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO DESERVE THIS! SO WHY ME?! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! HATE YOU! HATE YOU! HATE HATE HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE!!!!!!!”

Beneath him his twisted body surged once more, the thick and strong limbs shooting him into the air in a way no being as large as him should have been able to manage. Etienne felt himself rising, saw the long tendrils of his monstrous form stretching out to grasp the winged figure, then saw them come up far too short to reach. The next moment he was crashing down, but even though branches snapped beneath him and he saw at least one smaller tree break he felt nothing. No pain, no injury, a fall that would have left a human a broken mess, and he felt nothing.

Once. Twice. Three times his body leapt up, each time getting higher, but never really coming close. After the final failed attempt the monster part of him must have realized the futility of its actions because it seemed to go into a sort of frustrated frenzy, lashing out at the trees and plants about it with vicious aggression. Some clinical part of Etienne’s mind was distantly interested in this reaction, given that his monstrous aspect had never really acted in any way other than to satiate its hunger. This frustration . . . did it mean that there might actually be some sort of mind down there?

Under other circumstances he might have found it intriguing, or horrifying, but right now . . .

Trees came tumbling down. Slim trunks that could only be a decade or two old, thick thorned bushes, even one massive trunk that had to be at least a century old, all of them were smashed down as the tentacles lashed out with a desire to destroy. It was impressive, but it didn’t reach him. Instead, he felt the comforting anger starting to ebb, the fire burning itself out as he proved unable to reach the object of his frustration, and the wanton destruction doing little more than providing momentary venting.

“I . . . I wanted to be a hero,” Maybe he was tired, maybe his throat was just raw from all the shouting, but rather than a roar his words came out as more of a whimper. “I wanted to be special, to save people, to be praised and . . . and . . .”

He didn’t even know why he was saying it. Beneath him his body slumped, allowing gravity to pull it down to the ground once more. For an instant, he wondered if his emotions were affecting his body’s actions, or if it was the body’s actions that were affecting his emotions. The anger, the tension, it was running out of him like water from a punctured vessel.

“I wanted to be great! I wanted to show Isabelle she was wrong. I wanted to make my Dad proud. I . . . I wanted Tony to be jealous. I wanted to be famous! I wanted to be on TV, in the papers, on billboards!”

The confession had been a babble, almost a rant, but it had lost steam as he’d continued.

“Now . . . now look at me. I’m . . . I’m just a monster living in the ruins in the woods! I’m . . . I’m going to die here, aren’t I? Some . . . some monster out in the woods . . . they die, don’t they? The hero kills them, or another monster does. Am . . . am I going to die like that? Is . . . is that why you’re here?”

That made sense. The far-off figure was beautiful, literally angelic with wings and a metal halo floating above him. And Etienne was a monster, a murderer. Didn’t it make sense that the beautiful hero was here to destroy the evil monster?

“Do it!” He was surprised when the words came out of his mouth, but he was even more surprised that he actually meant them. “Do it, kill me, kill the monster, make it end!”

Some of his fire returned, enough that his body reared up once more.

“I never wanted this! I never wanted to be a monster! I NEVER WANTED TO BE A MURDERER!” He knew he was repeating himself, but he didn’t care, he wanted the far-off figure to know that. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to kill. I . . . I just want this to . . . to end.”

The strength went out of him again, but this time it felt worse than ever. He’d done it, he’d really done it. He’d admitted it to someone else, he’d admitted it to himself. He wanted to die. He wanted this . . . this nightmare to end before it got any worse. Before the monster growing from him swallowed him up. Before he lost every shred of what made him a person. Before the hunger devoured him all the way, body and soul.

Beneath him, the monstrous form moved again, but this time there was purpose to it. The hunger had returned, and the body moved to appease it, but rather than simply charging after the nearest scent or taste there was direction that had never been there before. In a few movements, he’d returned to the remaining corpses, though most of the stronger ones had already been consumed. Tentacles reached out, both the larger and stronger ones as well as the smaller manipulators. In short order he was carrying more than a dozen of the corpses, holding them close to his body as the monster turned and slithered back into the trees.

“Try and kill me if you want, I don’t care,” it was more of a mumble than anything else, but even so he was sure that the winged figure heard it. “You can try, but I don’t think the hunger’ll let you. It’ll fight, it’ll try and kill you, and eat you. It’s what it does.”

As Etienne entered the woods he heard the voice in his head once more.

*I . . . I want to help you.*

It was a pretty thought, a nice thought, a nice dream, but really, at this point, Etienne was sure he was beyond help.