He slowly became aware of his surroundings, the relentless hunger that once clouded his mind starting to lift, allowing clarity to settle in. He had devoured the hero, consumed his essence, his memories, his very soul. Now, fragments of a life that wasn’t his filled his mind. Once, he had been Xorathul, an eldritch god of unimaginable power, feared across worlds. But now? Now, he was just a shadow of that being a voidling, pulled from his realm by foolish cultists and bound to this mortal plane. His only path to reclaim what he had lost, to once again stand at the pinnacle of power, was to consume. To devour. That was his only purpose, the one constant he had known... until he consumed the Hero. Something changed. The memories, the emotions, the humanity it all felt foreign, yet it was creeping into his very core. For the first time, the endless hunger faded. And for the first time, Xorathul or whatever he was now felt something beyond the need to consume. Something almost... human.