Alex and I lay sprawled on the cold floor, the room shrouded in shadows so dense they seemed to crawl along the walls. The only sound that broke through oppressive silence was the steady rhythm of our breathing, slow and deliberate. Around us, remnants of chaos lay in tatters… shredded clothes, twisted sheets, the remains of something unexpected yet undeniable. We lay bare, vulnerable not just in body but in the weight of what hung between us. And yet, amidst the wreckage, there was a deceptive stillness. A fragile peace within us both that was spawned from separate places.
I turned my head toward her, my gaze tracing the contours of her form, the faint gleam of her skin catching what little ambient light bled in from the outside. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, unblinking, as though she were seeing something beyond the confines of the room. When she finally looked at me, her expression was veiled, a quiet storm brewing just beneath the surface.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice low, but sharp enough to cut through the suffocating quiet. I could feel it; something clawing its way up from the depths of her mind, struggling to be set free.
Her lips parted, and her voice, when it came, was hollow, as if dredged up from some far-off place. "She talks to me. I can hear her voice." Alex's words carried an unsettling weight, each syllable dripping with a strange, almost reverent detachment. "The Primeval… Hunger… I can hear her voice."
The air seemed to shift, growing heavier, pressing down on my chest. I propped myself up on one elbow, my eyes narrowing as I studied her. "When did it start?" My voice held a forced calm, but my mind raced with questions, each more disquieting than the last. I knew her burden… carrying my own version for some time now.
She turned her head slightly, her gaze slipping past me, distant. "At first, it was like an echo," she murmured. "When I woke up in the factory… I thought it was just the wind, or maybe my own thoughts bleeding through the silence. But at Abel’s…" Her voice faltered, a flicker of unease breaking through her otherwise emotionless tone. "That’s when I heard her clearly. Like she was standing right beside me."
Her words hung in the air like a curse, and for a moment, the room felt colder, the shadows stretching longer, darker. The peace I had felt just moments before now felt like the calm before a storm, a fragile veneer concealing something ancient and terrible.
“What’s it saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. A chill, subtle but persistent, crept along my spine, planting a seed of unease. Fear was an invasive thing, and it had started to take root.
Alex’s eyes remained distant, unfocused, but it wasn’t detachment. She was diving deep, searching the shadowy corners of her mind where the voice lingered. Her lips parted slightly, her breath slow and measured, as if she were sifting through the tangled threads of memory and sensation.
“She speaks of you,” Alex said finally, her voice even but weighted. She turned her head, her gaze meeting mine, steady and unflinching. “You… and the other one. The one inside you.” Her words carried a gravity that tightened the air between us. “She’s warning me. Warning me not to turn against you.”
There was no hesitation in her tone, no flicker of doubt. It wasn’t just an explanation… it was a statement of intent. A decision already carved into stone.
“She’s shown me things,” Alex continued, her voice quieter now but no less certain. “She showed me the time she saw him, your Primeval, flying overhead. He blotted out the sky. A shadow so vast, so complete, it swallowed everything beneath it.”
Her words were slow and powerful. She fell silent, her eyes drifting back to the ceiling as if she could see through it to the infinite beyond.
“I can feel her power,” she said after a long pause, her voice filled with something that teetered between awe and grim acceptance. “What’s left of it… it’s more than power… it’s a concept… a piece of existence itself. But…” Her tone shifted, a quiet finality slipping in. “The reverence she holds for him… it’s absolute. She doesn’t just fear him. She… wants to obey... wants to die.”
She raised her wrist, turning it over, revealing a mark burned into her flesh just below her palm. The symbol was eerily familiar, nearly identical to the one etched into my own skin, though smaller as if it had been tailored for her. It pulsed faintly, alive; its dark lines rooted deep in her very essence.
“She gave me this,” Alex said simply. “Hunger’s mark. It will allow me to move freely through the pits on my own.”
I stared at her, my black eyes narrowing slightly, trying to pierce the veil of her resolve. “Do you crave more of her power?” I asked, my voice low, almost accusing. “Is she right to warn you?” I didn’t want it to be true… a complication that I hoped wouldn’t arise.
Alex nodded slowly, deliberately, as if she had already confronted this truth long before I asked. “I can feel it,” she admitted. “The hunger, the pull for more. It’s in all of us, all the elders. Each one has a piece of the puzzle, and every fragment calls to the others. But…” She paused, her voice hardening. “I mastered my hunger a long time ago. It’s there, but it doesn’t control me.”
She placed her hand on my chest, her touch firm, grounding. “Don’t worry, Sam,” she said. “I’m not going to turn on you. I won’t let this…” she gestured to the mark, “consume me. Day-walking… it made me feel human again, but this power inside me? It’s monstrous. It doesn’t belong here. And I don’t want to hold onto it forever.”
I searched her expression, my own unease mounting. “Aren’t you worried? About what’ll happen when we kill Hunger? It could kill you.”
Alex’s lips curled into a faint, almost wistful smile. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Maybe when this power leaves me and returns to her heart, it’ll take me with it. Or maybe I’ll survive. Maybe I’ll go back to what I was.” She trailed off, her eyes distant again, her thoughts clearly miles away. “Honestly, though… whatever happens, I think that’s okay with me.”
Her words landed like a weight on my chest, their calm, resolute finality shaking me. She wasn’t resigned to death… she simply accepted it as a possibility. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the unspoken strength behind her words. She had made peace with the uncertainty, with the fragility of her own existence.
But it wasn’t that she didn’t care. She had a foot in both worlds, tethered to this life yet yearning for the one that awaited beyond. The love she’d lost, the life stolen from her when she was turned… Jerry waiting on the other side. But now… now she had found something here, too. A purpose, a companion in the darkness. She had found me; and selfishly, I wanted her to stay.
“Can I ask you something?” Alex’s voice broke the silence, low and contemplative. She didn’t turn to face me, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if seeking answers in the cracks above.
I glanced at her, sensing the gravity in her words. “Yeah,” I replied, my tone neutral but ready.
“What’s it like?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. “To carry these things inside you? If what I’ve felt is just a fraction of Hunger’s power… how do you live with him? With Myoordrakien, all the time?” She paused, exhaling softly. “I’m old, Sam. So much older than you. Old enough to be your grandmother.”
I couldn’t help but smirk, glancing at her naked body beside me. “You don’t look a day over 94,” I taunted, trying to lighten the mood.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t let it distract her. “I’m serious,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve been around. Seen things most people couldn’t imagine. Creatures, monsters, even humans with power that you wouldn’t believe. But what I felt in Hunger’s memories… when I glimpsed him… your Primeval…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Myoordrakien. It’s beyond comprehension. Beyond hunger, beyond power, beyond life. It feels… inevitable. Like the end of everything.”
“Annihilation,” I said, the word heavy as it left my mouth.
She turned her head toward me, her eyes sharp, probing. “How do you hold that inside, Sam? How do you carry it?”
The question hit harder than I expected. I’d never really let myself dwell on it. Myoordrakien had always been there, a shadowy constant in my second life. I’d fought him, caged him, and sometimes failed. But I never asked myself how I endured it. Her words sparked a memory, an echo of something Jon had said long ago, in the fields when everything was new. He spoke of my will, how it had shaped me, how he’d seen something in me worth noting. His words lingered on the edge of my mind, but I couldn’t grasp them fully. They didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“I don’t know,” I admitted after a long silence. “It’s just… part of me." When Death took the blade from me, that’s when things shifted. Myoordrakien and I started merging. My eyes haven’t been blue since. The blackness took over, and my teeth sharpened. I’m not just Sam anymore. I’m becoming something else. More monster than man. More Primeval than human. I don’t know if you’d call that bearing this curse. "I feel like… lately it has been consuming me…”
Alex studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “It makes me see you differently,” she said quietly. “Not in a bad way. Just… with more understanding. It’s a weight, Sam. A burden I can’t imagine carrying. To hold destruction itself inside of you, to be bound to something as final as Death.” She shook her head at the ceiling.
She glanced at her marked wrist, the faint lines glowing softly. “If Hunger’s power leads me down that path… I don’t want it. I don’t want to become something like that.” There was almost... apology in her words. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of determination, of conviction.
I nodded, understanding the unspoken resolve in her tone. She wasn’t afraid of power… she was afraid of losing herself to it. Of becoming something unrecognizable, something unstoppable. And for a moment, I envied her clarity. It reminded me of what I thought at my darkest times.
Alex shifted, her taught, pale skin catching the faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through the cracks in the foil-covered windows. Her fiery red hair spilled over her shoulders like a cascade of flowing blood, framing her striking face. Her emerald eyes glinted with quiet intensity as she rolled over, her body moving with the kind of effortless grace that hid the strength coiled within her.
She intertwined her legs with mine, her toned thighs pressing firmly against my skin, locking me in place like the tendrils of a spider’s web. Her curves fit against me perfectly, her body both soft and unyielding in equal measure. The air around her carried a heady scent… potent with the tang of rich, concentrated blood; sharp and metallic, yet layered with something far more elusive. It was ancient, primal, a mix of earth and shadow that defied description. It stirred unease and fascination at the same time. The aroma clung to her like a second skin, an otherworldly signature that was both intoxicating and unnervingly foreign. The very essence of something unknowable pulsed beneath her surface. A concept I knew all too well.
Alex’s arms snaked around my shoulders, pulling me closer until her face was mere inches from mine. Her breath was warm against my lips, her gaze unwavering as she spoke. “While I still have this power,” she said, her voice low and steady, “and this gift to walk under the sun, I want to enjoy it. Just in case... these are my last days.”
There was no bravado in her tone, no trace of the aggressive edge she often wielded like a blade. This was raw, stripped down to the bare essence of who she was… a woman whose human life had been snatched away, leaving behind the powerful, tattooed beauty who had once found solace in motorcycles and rough crowds.
Her fingers traced idle patterns along my back, her touch both soothing and electric. The faint lines of ink etched into her skin told stories of rebellion and survival, of a life lived with no regrets. Even now, with the weight of our shared burdens pressing down on us, she held onto that last sliver of humanity with quiet dignity.
Outside, the world was still cloaked in darkness, the silence only broken by the faint hum of nocturnal life. Time stretched endlessly between us, and for once, there was no urgency, no looming threat demanding immediate action.
“I get it,” I murmured, my voice barely audible as I wrapped my arms around her waist. “Me too.” I wanted her to know I wanted this as much as she did… no, not wanted… needed it; needed her in this moment. All of her... monster and all.
With that, I pulled her on top of me, her hair falling around us like a curtain, shutting out the world. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she leaned down, her hands bracing on either side of my head. The weight of everything… our pasts, our curses, the damage we’d done to others, and the lives we’d snuffed out; then our futures, the uncertainty of what lay ahead… it all melted away. It left only the present. For now, that was enough.
----------------------------------------
Night had fallen again, draping the city in its familiar cloak of shadows across icy streets. Alex and I had spent the previous night, and the entire following day, holed up in her apartment. The hours slipped away in a blur of conversation… deep, unfiltered exchanges about the weight we carried, the choices that had shaped us, and the monsters we had become. But words only filled so much of the void. Eventually, talking gave way to something far more visceral, more primal.
For hours, we lost ourselves in each other, driven by an unrelenting need that had simmered beneath the surface for too long. For her, the hunger had been gnawing for years, decades even, while mine was a fresher, sharper ache over these last few years. But in that dim, private space, time didn't matter. We gave in to the pull, letting it bind us in ways neither of us had fully anticipated. For once, there was no pretense, no mask… just raw, unfiltered connection.
Now, the city’s nocturnal hum surrounded us as we stood outside Martin's bar. The place was lifeless. Its usual vibrancy was swallowed by an unsettling quiet. The heavy chain looped tightly around the front doors reflected dully under the pale glow of a flickering streetlight. The windows, usually lit with a warm amber glow, were pitch black, and not a single sound stirred from within. A handful of cars sat scattered in the parking lot, their snow-dusted exteriors and haphazard angles suggesting they’d been abandoned; left behind by patrons who’d drunk themselves into oblivion and called for a ride home.
"Where do you think he is?" I asked, my voice low as I scanned the shadowy lot.
Alex stood beside me, her arms loosely crossed, her red hair catching the faint light. She tilted her head, considering. "I don’t know," she said finally. "This place is rarely closed unless both of us are out. Maybe he’s off doing something with the Chasse family." Her tone was casual, but there was a hint of unease beneath it.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, my mind tugged in two directions. Part of me wanted to track Martin down, to ensure he was safe and that nothing had gone wrong. It was a reflex, this compulsion to protect those tied to my old life. Carter, Eleanor, Frank, Jane, Autumn… I still felt tethered to them, even as the bond frayed… as the monster took more of my form from me… not giving it back after the transformations. But another part of me, a darker, quieter part, felt detached… like a ghost lingering on the edges of a world it no longer belonged to.
Autumn’s actions still stung, her cold dismissal of me echoing in my head. The way she’d thrown me out, siding with Patrick without a second thought, had left a wound I hadn’t fully confronted. And then there was the reflection I now saw on every surface… the black eyes, the sharpness in my features that hinted at something far from human. The monster within me was creeping closer to the surface, and with each passing day, I felt more like the shadowy figure I had once feared above all else. A beast lurking in the ruins of St. Louis… endangering my loved ones.
Except this time, I wasn’t alone. Alex stood beside me, her presence a steadying force. She was something I hadn’t known I needed back then… a partner in the darkness.
“Well, let’s get out of here,” I said, breaking the silence as I turned away from the chained doors.
Alex gave a short nod, slipping her hand into the pocket of her fitted jeans. She pulled out her phone, glanced at the screen briefly, then slid it back without a word. “No answer,” she murmured as if confirming her quick text to Martin had been ignored.
Together, we stepped away from the lifeless bar, our footsteps echoing softly against the asphalt. The city stretched out before us, vast and indifferent, a labyrinth of shadows waiting to swallow us whole. But for now, we moved through it side by side, bound by the shared knowledge of what we were… two monsters with no equal on the streets above the city.
We turned and started pacing away from the bar, stepping back into the frozen, desolate streets of St. Louis. The air was sharp and biting, the kind of cold that settled deep in your bones, but we were used to it by now. Just as we reached the edge of the parking lot, I caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye… something fast, deliberate, and unmistakably inhuman.
In a flash, it was on us. Surprise, surprise… a vampire. Aside from Alex and Martin, I was about at my limit with these arrogant bloodsuckers.
“Oh, barkeep! What’s the deal with the place?” the newcomer called out, his voice slick and infuriatingly smug. He strolled right up to us, his stride oozing false confidence. “Closed up for the holiday season?” His accent had a lyrical lilt to it… Portuguese, maybe. His English was good, but the tone gave him away.
He was dark-skinned with hair to match, styled in that tousled, ‘I’m too cool to care’ way that made me want to tear it off along with his scalp. He had the air of someone who thought they were hot shit, probably on some kind of vampire tourist circuit. Come to America, see the supernatural sights: Martin’s bar, a werewolf den, and maybe even catch a glimpse of the Gateway Arch after sundown like a good little tourist. I could just picture him now, standing in line at some theme park, throwing his hands up on a roller coaster, or cramming into the tiny elevator in the Arch to snap a selfie from the top. The mental image made me smirk.
Alex, on the other hand, ground her teeth audibly, clearly recognizing him. “The place is closed. Obviously. Come back another day,” she said, her tone flat and laced with barely concealed irritation.
But this guy didn’t know when to quit. He sidled up closer to her, his voice dropping into a silky, predatory purr as he leaned in, trying to worm his way under her skin. “Oh, come on,” he said, his gaze lingering far too long on her. “Just one drink? You must have the key. Or…” He trailed off, letting his eyes roam shamelessly over her body, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “We could rip the chains off, head inside, and maybe rip off a few other things while we’re at it.” He grinned, his fangs glinting in the dim light.
He threw a glance my way, catching the black gleam of my eyes, but to my surprise, he didn’t flinch. Maybe he thought I was some kind of pet monster Alex kept around for laughs. I didn’t say anything yet, just crossed my arms and watched, curious to see how Alex would handle this walking ego trip.
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the twitch in her jaw… the kind of twitch that meant this guy was about five seconds from losing his life.
Alex’s smile widened, sharp and predatory, as though she’d been waiting for this. Her grin revealed the gleam of her fangs, lengthening into deadly points. Her eyes pulsed with a dark, crimson glow, the veins around them webbing out like cracks in glass. She licked the front of her teeth slowly, savoring the moment as power surged through her. When she spoke, her voice was no longer just hers… it was layered, twisted, an unsettling harmony of tones. It was like something ancient and monstrous spoke alongside her, a sonata of hunger and malice.
“I don’t think you want that,” she purred, her voice vibrating with otherworldly resonance. “You wouldn’t survive it.”
The Portuguese vampire, now sensing the vast, deadly force coiled within her, hesitated. His bravado faltered for a moment, but then he raised his hands in mock surrender, trying to play it off.
“All right, all right,” he said with a smug grin, stepping back. “I’ll just be on my way. Geez, even off the clock, you’re a bit of a bitch.”
I cringed internally. That had to be it… the final nail in his coffin. Yet, to my surprise, Alex merely tilted her head, a small, humorless chuckle escaping her lips. She didn’t lash out, not yet. She was enjoying the game, letting him dig his own grave.
The vampire smirked, clearly mistaking her restraint for leniency. Then he spoke again, sealing his fate. “Fine, fine. I’ll just find myself one of these nice young locals to fill my night. Plenty of them wandering around, even in this cold. Have some fun, drain ‘em dry, and call it a nightcap.” His tone was casual, like he was discussing picking up a midnight snack. The sheer callousness of it made my blood boil. It shouldn’t have surprised me… he was one of them… the kind that hunted for sport, for cruelty, with no regard for human life.
Alex moved faster than thought, a blur of ghostly speed. One second, the vampire stood smug and smirking; the next, her hand was locked around his throat like a steel vice. His cocky grin vanished as she lifted him effortlessly off the ground. The sound of his windpipe straining under her grip was almost satisfying. Without a word, she hurled him through the air. His body slammed into Martin’s bar with a bone-shattering crack, denting the metal door and sending fissures spiderwebbing through the brick wall.
Before the dust had even begun to settle, Alex was on him again, a wraith in motion. She slammed into him mid-air, driving him further into the already crumbling wall. The impact detonated outward in a violent explosion of brick and mortar, the sound echoing through the frozen streets like a cannon blast. Chunks of debris rained down, shattering on the icy ground.
The vampire tried to recover, his instincts forcing him into a defensive snarl, but Alex was relentless. She drove a knee into his gut, the force of it cratering the brickwork behind him. They were inside the bar now. He wheezed, blood spraying from his mouth, but Alex didn’t let up. She gripped his head and slammed it against the floor repeatedly, each blow sending fresh bursts of blood into the cold night.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
I stood back, watching her work. There was no stopping her now. This wasn’t a fight; it was punishment.
I followed them through the jagged breach in the building, stepping over crumbling cinder blocks and twisted metal. I wasn’t here to help; I was here to witness. This vampire’s fate was already sealed, and I wasn’t about to interfere. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the acrid scent of old blood concentrations as Alex tore through him like a hurricane through a trailer park.
Grunts of pain echoed as she hurled him into the walls, tables, and shattered forms of furniture. His body slammed against the remnants of a metal barstool, snapping it like kindling. She grabbed him by the ankle and whipped him into a side booth, the wood exploding into splinters on impact. He staggered to his feet, only for her to snatch him by the collar and drive him into the far wall. His attempts to flee were laughable; she changed his momentum with each toss, directing him like a puppet with no strings. He was a toy, and she was the merciless hand that wielded him.
I stepped forward, my boots crunching on debris. The sound caught her attention. Alex’s head snapped toward me, her eyes feral and unrecognizing. For a moment, she wasn’t Alex anymore. The surge of power had consumed her, and what stared back at me was pure, undiluted hunger. Her wild gaze flicked between me and her prey, momentarily torn between instinct and familiarity.
The vampire, battered and broken, seized the distraction. He bolted, his movements frantic, animalistic. He ran as if hell itself clawed at his heels, heading for a shattered window in a desperate bid for freedom. But Alex wasn’t done.
She let out a guttural, creaking hiss; a sound that resonated deep in my bones. It was no longer the voice of a vampire; it was something more primal, more monstrous. Her eyes glowed a ravenous red, every trace of white overtaken by the consuming hue. Black veins spiderwebbed out from the corners, pulsing with unnatural energy. Her forearms twisted grotesquely as new layers of hardened flesh erupted along her skin, forming an armor-like exoskeleton. The transformation was spreading, creeping up her arms as she raised her clawed hands toward the fleeing vampire.
Without touching him, she unleashed her power. The air between them seemed to warp as an invisible force seized him mid-stride. His limbs stiffened, his body jerking unnaturally as if suspended by unseen wires. He gasped, his face contorting in agony. His skin flushed a violent red, then darkened as blood began to pour from his eyes, nose, and mouth in grotesque streams. The liquid didn’t drip or splash—it flowed, pulled from his body as if siphoned by an immense vacuum.
A mist of crimson swirled around him, rising from his pores like steam. The cloud spiraled toward Alex’s outstretched hands, condensing into a thick stream that funneled directly into her open mouth. She drank it in with each breath, her chest rising and falling as if the act of feeding was as natural as breathing. Each inhalation drew more blood from him, and I could feel the Primeval influence in her—this was no mere thirst. This was Hunger, ancient and insatiable.
I watched, transfixed, as the vampire’s once-vibrant form withered. His bronzed skin dulled, turning ashen, and cracked like dried earth. His body shrank, his flesh collapsing inward as every last drop of vitality was stripped away. His eyes hollowed, his jaw slackened, and what little life remained in him flickered out. When the last of his blood was devoured, he was nothing but a desiccated husk, his once-animated form now brittle and gray like burnt wood.
Alex exhaled deeply, her breath heavy with satisfaction. She stood there, savoring the aftermath, the Primeval’s influence thrumming through her with undeniable force.
The corpse fell forward, hitting the ground with a dry, hollow thud. His body shattered slightly upon impact, as if it couldn’t bear its own weight anymore. What remained was lifeless, moistureless, a brittle reminder of what he once was.
Alex didn’t look back at me. She didn’t need to. She had sated her hunger…for now. This wasn’t about me.
I watched Alex carefully as she began to move, stumbling through the debris, her movements becoming wild and unsteady. She collided with a chair, sending it skidding across the floor, then careened into a table, which toppled over with a loud crash. Her hands gripped the edge of a bar counter as if anchoring herself, but it was clear that the real battle wasn’t in her armored limbs… it was inside her mind.
Her eyes flickered chaotically, shifting from a monstrous, ravenous red that consumed even the whites, to the more familiar crimson of her vampiric nature; tinged with bloodshot veins. She was caught between states, her expression contorted in a grimace of sheer defiance.
“No… no. I’m in control… I AM!” she screamed, her voice cracking with a guttural resonance that echoed through the room. Her tone was layered… part her, part something darker, more insidious. It wasn’t just her voice anymore.
I stayed close, careful not to intervene too soon. My fists clenched at my sides as I tried to assess her, searching for some sign that I could help. But deep down, I knew this was her fight. I’d been here before… in the silent, torturous battlefield of the mind, where no ally could follow. Where every scream echoed back as doubt, and every victory felt like sand slipping through your fingers.
Alex’s breathing was ragged, each exhale a shaky declaration of her will. She clawed at her forearms as if trying to peel away the hardened, armor-like exoskeleton that had begun to form. “I won’t… I won’t lose to you,” she growled, her voice trembling but resolute. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, her head bowed as if bearing an immense weight.
For a moment, her eyes softened, and I thought she was breaking through. But then, another wave of power surged through her, and her head snapped up, eyes flaring bright red once more. She let out a low, guttural growl; a sound that wasn’t hers alone. It was as if the Primeval within her, the ancient hunger, was laughing at her resistance.
“Alex,” I said cautiously, my voice low. She flinched at the sound, her gaze snapping to me. For a split second, I saw the fury, the hunger, the beast. But then her features twisted with something else… shame, frustration, a desperate need to hold on.
“I don’t need your help,” she spat, though her voice lacked its usual venom. It was strained, trembling, as if even speaking required effort. “This is my fight.”
I nodded, not moving. “I know,” I said quietly, my voice carrying the weight of my own battles.
Her eyes flickered again, and she exhaled a weak, trembling sigh. She pushed herself off the floor, her movements slow, deliberate. Her hands trembled as she examined her forearms... her faded red chitin-like armor now just a memory. Her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. She looked at me, her gaze heavy with exhaustion and a quiet, simmering rage… not at me, but at herself.
Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the night, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows. She didn’t want me to follow… I knew that. She needed the darkness, the solitude, to wrestle with the monster inside. And I understood that better than anyone.
Still, as her form vanished into the cold, I couldn’t shake the gnawing fear in my gut. Sometimes, when you fight a battle like that, the hardest part isn’t winning… it’s coming back.
----------------------------------------
I was curious where she’d gone, but knowing we had just destroyed Martin’s, there was only one place I figured she’d be now. Her apartment. With a flicker of focus, I sent out a pulse through my mind, scanning the city for her presence. Sure enough, she was there. I’d let her be… for now. She’d need time to adjust, to process the changes overtaking her body and mind. Being bound to one of these things was more than overwhelming; it could break you if you weren’t strong enough.
Still, the clock was ticking. We needed to get back down into the pits. We. I said it like it was a team effort, but really, it was me who needed to go. I didn’t mind going alone… in fact, it was probably safer that way. But there was this nagging, undeniable sense buried in my head; a pull I couldn’t ignore. I needed Alex with me. Not because of the tenuous new bond forming between us. That was secondary. It was something deeper, something primal. The Primeval inside me knew it, but it couldn’t explain. It couldn’t communicate in a way I could fully grasp. I only felt the weight of its certainty. The sparse words it spoke into my mind at times didn’t inform me on the matter.
This wasn’t going to be a quick, clean job. If it were as simple as descending into the pits, cutting down the elders, and forcing Hunger to follow them into oblivion, I’d have done it already. I would have charged in, slaughtered everything in sight, and left nothing standing. But this… this was different. Complicated. If it were simple, Death wouldn’t have put so much distance between us. He wouldn’t have taken his blade back.
I thought about Death’s last words to me, the way he spoke with that chilling finality, his warning echoing in my mind. His power could not be tied to me for a while. That stuck with me. What did it mean? Why did it matter now, especially with Hunger reduced to little more than a shadow of its former self? Its life force barely clung to existence, surviving in the twisted remains of its buried heart. The elders held the real power now.
And yet, something still didn’t add up. Maybe the elders could flee. Maybe one or more of them would slip away, scattering into the farthest reaches, hiding and plotting. They’d retain their corrupt influence, dragging this war out for as long as it took to keep the Primeval power alive. If they sensed the inevitability of Death… if they even felt its presence near the pits, they might abandon their stronghold and vanish into the wind.
Hunger’s ancient memory surfaced in my mind, sharp interrupting, like a shard of ice driving into my thoughts. It was the memory of running… not the chase of a predator, but the frantic, desperate escape of prey. She had run from something. Not from Myoordrakien, her brother, whose power was destruction incarnate. No, it was something far worse. She had felt cold… creeping… Death.
When I saw the moments through her eyes many eyes… her primal terror as she sensed her brother’s own annihilation, his essence ripped from existence by something superior. Myoordrakien, the embodiment of doom, had fallen, his power extinguished from the earth. What she fled from wasn’t just an end; it was the end. A force that stripped everything down to its final, absolute state.
She had fled far and deep, retreating beneath the city to form the pits, her sanctuary and prison. But it wasn’t merely for survival. It was because she knew her time would come. If even Hunger… ancient, indomitable Hunger, could quake in fear at Death’s approach, then surely the elders would run for their lives as well.
That thought gnawed at me just as sharp and persistent as the winter wind cutting through the city. If I miscalculated… if I left Alex behind, or moved too soon… this entire battle could spiral into an endless nightmare. The elders would run and hide somewhere else. The Primeval wouldn’t die as Death had planned; it would remain, a festering wound in the world. And that was a risk I couldn’t afford to take. I wanted to end them all… then Hunger itself. I wanted to feel the destruction it would bring… or… maybe that was Myoordrakien. I was uncertain.
I stopped in the middle of a dead street, the skeletal remains of downtown St. Louis stretching out around me. The city was a frozen tomb, the icy wind carrying the faint hum of distant cars and the brittle rustle of abandoned flyers caught in gutters. I turned to a store window, my reflection staring back at me, warped by the frost clinging to the glass.
For a moment, I almost expected the reflection to speak, for Death to whisper the answers I craved through my own hollow stare. But there was only silence. My black eyes, obsidian voids, seemed to drink in the dim light, leaving me looking eyeless, a creature made of shadows. I stood there like a fool, waiting for wisdom from a specter that wouldn’t come.
As my focus shifted, the faint glow from inside the store revealed a rack of sunglasses. The ridiculousness of it struck me, even though the practicality of my idea couldn’t be denied. I pushed open the door, the lock giving way beneath my hand like brittle ice. Inside, the stale air clung to the scent of old plastic and forgotten inventory. I grabbed a pair of sunglasses, a design I thought might suit me, and slipped them on. The world tinted slightly, the weight of my monstrous gaze hidden behind cheap lenses.
I stepped back out, twisting the door shut behind me as if to seal away my minor crime. If I set off an alarm, I didn’t hear it, nor did I care. The streets remained quiet, blanketed in fresh snow that softened even the faintest noise.
Now I was walking through the city in the dead of night, wearing sunglasses like some arrogant asshole that was more worried about his looks. I probably looked like an idiot, but it gave me cover, a layer of normalcy to mask the monster beneath. My eyes, now permanently changed, reflected the void of the Primeval within. They would betray me to anyone who looked too closely. I thought back to the waitress at Alex’s café, the way she froze when she caught sight of my eyes. The terror. Humans always searched for explanations, clinging to their fragile reality. Maybe she thought I was just some weirdo with custom contact lenses. Better that than the truth.
The city stretched out before me, a vast expanse of concrete and quiet desperation. I wandered through its frozen veins, my boots crunching softly against the snow-packed sidewalks. Christmas lights hung from streetlamps, their colors muted under the overcast sky. Wreaths plastered to storefronts, and cheap displays of holiday cheer-filled windows. Somewhere, I caught the faint, nostalgic scent of burning wood, a fireplace in some distant home. It should have been comforting, but instead, it only deepened the ache.
I used to love this time of year. The smell of pine and cinnamon, the way laughter echoed through the streets as people rushed to finish their holiday errands. Now, all it did was remind me of what I’d lost. Of the lives I could no longer be a part of.
I thought of Dallas. Of the family I’d left behind. Was Caydee old enough to unwrap presents now? Did she even know how? Would Vicki and Ben host Christmas dinner, or maybe everyone would go to Mom and Dad’s? I could almost see them, the house filled with warmth and light, the scent of roast and baked goods filling the air. And Seth… he’d be there too, sitting quietly among them, carrying the weight of my secret. Wondering when he’d see me darken their doorstep… when I finally came home.
He knew the truth, a partial truth, but even that carried an unrelenting burden. I had left him to guard it alone. I could only hope it wasn’t crushing him, that it hadn’t consumed the peace I had once wished for him. No matter what, I knew he’d keep it to himself. He wouldn’t tell them. Not until I returned. Not until I finally came home.
I exhaled the cold biting at my lungs, and pressed on, my thoughts trailing behind me like ghosts in the snow.
The crunch of footsteps in the snow caught my attention, closer than they should’ve been. It surprised me… most people gave me a wide berth. I’d been told plenty of times I had a resting bitch face, but it wasn’t just that. Walking around at night with my hood up and sunglasses on was practically a warning sign. Add in my size and the quiet menace that clung to me even in my human form, and people tended to steer clear. Yet, these steps didn’t falter. They kept pace behind me, steady, deliberate.
I slowed, my breath curling in the icy air, and finally stopped. The footsteps ceased, halting just a few feet back. The silence stretched, taut and expectant, the city’s distant hum swallowed by the weight of the moment.
I didn’t turn around fully, just enough to glance at the side of my right foot, a subtle acknowledgment. It wasn’t much, but it sent a message: I know you’re there.
The air between us felt heavy, charged. I waited, listening for any sign of movement, my muscles coiled like a spring beneath my coat. Then, cutting through the quiet, came a familiar voice.
“Sam.”
My heart stuttered, and for a moment, everything around me froze. The word hung in the cold like a ghost, familiar and unwanted all at once. The kind of familiarity that made the world tilt, the kind that dragged you backward through time whether you wanted it or not.
I didn’t move. My jaw clenched, and a storm of thoughts churned beneath the surface. The voice… it wasn’t just familiar; it was supposed to be gone… fled the city with his loved ones.
I turned slowly, every motion deliberate, and when my eyes settled on him, the weight of what I saw hit harder than I could’ve braced for. Charles. Alone, standing against the cold city backdrop, clutching a weapon that seemed to breathe danger. It was a crude, gnarled spike, carved from an ancient piece of wood. The texture of it caught the faint streetlights… a twisted blend of natural growth and human interference. It was like the root of some ancient tree had been violently shaped into its current form. His knuckles were tight around it, the skin stretched so thin over bone they seemed almost translucent.
The air between us was sharp, and heavy with unspoken history. I sighed, not out of relief, but resignation. I knew why he was here. The tension in his stance, the tremble in his grip… it all screamed betrayal wrapped in desperation.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice quiet, brittle. The sunglasses felt ridiculous now, a flimsy barrier between me and the storm brewing in his eyes, but taking them off felt awkward.
“They know, Sam.” His voice cracked, raw, each word cutting deeper. “They know it was you who killed him. The elder. They know I led you to the pits.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like it might choke him. “They found me. They found my family.” His voice broke completely, and his next words came out in a rush, trembling with fear and fury. “If I don’t kill you… they’ll take everything. They won’t kill me, Sam. They’ll kill them. Every last one of them. And they’ll make me watch. They’ll keep me alive just to suffer it all.”
His eyes, those ancient windows to centuries of memories, filled with crimson tears. They spilled over silently, tracing lines down his face, leaving streaks of blood that dripped onto the snow beneath him. The red blooms spread like wounds against the pale, packed frost.
“You know you can’t kill me,” I said, my voice steady, though the ache beneath it was almost too much to bear. My eyes flicked to the passing civilians, their laughter and idle chatter blissfully ignorant of the storm brewing feet away. “You really want to do this here? In front of all of them?” I gestured slightly to the people, each one a fragile thread in the tapestry of this quiet winter night. “Wouldn’t this break their rules?” I spoke of the elders themselves.
Charles’ grip tightened on the spike. His hands shook, but his resolve didn’t waver. “This weapon is different,” he said, his voice heavy with conviction and regret. “It’ll kill you, Sam. No matter what you’ve become. It could kill them.” Now he spoke of the elders, his voice laced with bitterness. “But no one’s strong enough to take them on. Not me. Not anyone…” His gaze softened for a moment, the weight of his next words dragging his shoulders lower. “Except you.”
Silence wrapped around us like the cold air, stifling and oppressive. I glanced down a narrow alley between two buildings, a dark void in the city’s shimmering facade. The shadows there beckoned, promising privacy for the confrontation we couldn’t avoid. I gave a small tilt of my head toward the alley. Charles followed my gaze and nodded, his movements sluggish, reluctant.
Without another word, I led the way, our steps crunching softly against the snow as we slipped into the narrow, frozen corridor. The city’s hum faded behind us, replaced by the scuttling of rats, their emaciated forms gnawing at the carcasses of their dead. The stench of decay and damp stone clung to the air.
We stood in the shadows, surrounded by filth and forgotten echoes, where no eyes could follow, no innocents could stumble upon the inevitable. Charles didn’t raise the weapon yet. He just stood there, breathing hard, his tears still falling.
I waited, the weight of his decision pressing against both of us like the crushing chill of the alley.
"I have to save my family!” Charles’ voice cracked, desperation splitting his usual composed demeanor into jagged shards. His breathing was shallow, frantic. “There’s nothing else I can do. It’s you or them, Sam. I have no other options.” His words tumbled out in a fevered rush, as if speaking them aloud would somehow make the impossible choice less unbearable. “They caught us as we were trying to flee the city. The elders sent their strongest… and now they have them. My family.”
His knuckles tightened on the warped root-dagger, the grain of the wood almost groaning under the pressure. His eyes were wild, a haunted animal backed into the tightest corner imaginable. Fear for himself? No… this was the purest of terror… of a man staring into the abyss of his loved ones’ destruction.
“I can help you, Charles,” I said, my voice low, almost pleading. “We’ll go together. We’ll kill them all.”
His head snapped up, but his expression didn’t soften. “It’s no use,” he muttered, voice thick with despair. “They’re too strong, Sam. There are too many. If I don’t return with your head, they’ll slaughter everyone. Slowly. One by one… piece by piece.”
The weight of his anguish hit me like a blow. “What are their names?” I asked softly.
Charles flinched. “Names?” His lips trembled, the question dragging him deeper into his torment. “Of my family?” His usual hardened veneer crumbled, revealing a raw wound beneath.
“Yes.”
His eyes darted down, lost in some distant, tortured memory. “Those that are left… are her children. Her grandchildren… Julie… Owen… Helene…” His voice broke entirely, and fresh trails of blood tears streaked down his face. “They were her everything, and I’ve already failed them. I brought this curse upon them. It’s my fault. I have to save them, Sam. Even if it means going through you.” His eyes surged. Before I could say another word, he lunged.
The alley seemed to collapse around us as he moved, the darkness swallowing the sudden burst of violence. His speed was vampiric, a blur of motion, the twisted dagger aimed at my heart. The weapon gleamed faintly, an ominous shimmer in the dim light, its purpose undeniable.
Then came the sound… the sickening wet squelch of flesh tearing.
I caught his wrist mid-strike, twisting it sharply, forcing the dagger aside. My right hand, monstrous and clawed, shot forward like a blade of its own. I didn’t think. Instinct and something darker drove me. My talons pierced through his chest with a grotesque crunch, ripping through bone and muscle. I felt his sternum splinter beneath the force, his ribs snapping like brittle twigs as my arm drove deeper until my claws burst through his back.
Charles gasped, his body jerking violently as I ran him through. His spine shifted grotesquely as I skewered him, the wet, visceral noise of his innards rearranging themselves around the intrusion echoing in the narrow alley. His heart pulsed weakly around my arm, its rhythmic thud slowing as I tore through it. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky, drenching my forearm, and soaking into the fabric of my jacket. The metallic stench filled the air, sharp and nauseating, mingling with the damp rot of the alley.
He sagged against me, his strength fading fast. Blood bubbled up from his mouth, spilling over his lips in thick, crimson streams. His chest heaved, every breath gurgling wetly as life ebbed away.
“Please…” Charles rasped, his voice barely a whisper, each word a struggle. “Please… save them.”
I stared into his eyes, now dull, the light within them fading. For a moment, I hesitated, my grip loosening slightly. But it was too late. His head slumped forward, the last of his breath escaping in a rattling sigh. Charles was gone.
I stood there, his lifeless body hanging limp from my arm, his blood pooling at my feet, staining the snow a deep, violent red. The sharp sting of regret pierced through the haze of adrenaline, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the truth of what I’d done. I could’ve stopped. I could’ve spared him. But I didn’t. Some part of me… the part Myoordrakien had twisted into a weapon… had chosen this.
I was a monster. He was a monster.
The realization hit me in a single, blinding flash as he lunged at me, that jagged shard of wood aimed straight for my heart. But it wasn’t just him I saw. It was me. The reflection was instant, searing, and unrelenting. I saw myself stepping into the warmth of a human family, weaving my darkness into their lives like a deadly parasite. And in Charles, I saw the same thing.
Charles had done what I was doing. However, he had slaughtered countless lives, and carved a path of carnage so deep that no one could forget the trail. Then he changed… he grew to be… human again. Somehow, he found a family. He clung to them, hoping that maybe this time, he could pretend to be one of them… but he wasn’t. It was a lie. Even if he managed to save them from the nightmare this time… how long before the next shadow loomed over their fragile peace? How long before the truth of what he was, dragged them down into the same abyss he crawled out of?
I had no real answers. Was I justified in what I did? Was it right… wrong… or merely a convenient excuse to justify my own choice… to kill? In that moment, it didn’t matter. I chose. I chose to kill him. To stop the spread of his curse… his presence, before it could fester and infect those people again. But in doing so, I condemned myself further.
Hypocrisy burned through me like acid. I was no different. I’d done the same with the Chasse family… was still doing the same as I lingered near them. I had no intention of stopping. I had new intentions to go back home to Texas at some point. I was a walking contradiction, a plague in my own right.
As I held his dying body, his weight dragging me down with him, I felt the conflict gnawing at my insides. What would Martin think? Carter? Eleanor? What about Alex?
What would they see me as now… more of a destroyer?
Blood soaked my hand as I slowly pulled my arm back through his chest, the sickening warmth clinging to my claws. His heart… or what was left of it… slipped through my fingers in shredded pieces, falling to the crimson-stained snow beneath us.
For a moment, I stared down at his broken form.
The silence was suffocating, his final plea still echoing in my ears. He had fought not for himself, but for them. For his family. His death wasn’t just another casualty… it was a reminder of the line I had crossed and would continue to cross.
The weight of what I’d done settled in, cold and unforgiving.
I stepped back, the snow crunching beneath my feet, the blood staining… making me unable to hide what I’d done. It was a clue… a guilty verdict… a judgment of what I had done. Charles was a friend to Martin and the Chasses. He was a friend… and I murdered him. Charles… was gone.
But his death was just another stone on the path of destruction I couldn’t stop walking. And somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered that there would be more. More bodies. More blood… more regret.
I had become the very thing I feared all these years… a killer of people that mattered. And there was no going back.
I had to go numb again… like I used to. I had to keep moving… to much to do to feel right now. I reached down and pried the root dagger from his rigid grip. The wood was rough, its surface slick with blood. Even in death, Charles’ fingers had clung to it with a desperation that refused to fade. I turned it over in my hands, its carved surface a mystery, a promise of death. Could it have truly killed me? I doubted it. But now, it didn’t matter. I would keep it, if only as a reminder of this moment; a moment when even monsters could be hypocrites.
I stepped back, my boots crunching in the crimson-soaked snow. The darkness of the alley seemed to press in closer, suffocating, as if it were absorbing the violence, drawing strength from the death I had wrought.
I emerged into the street, the distant hum of city life a cruel contrast to the carnage I left behind. The shadows swallowed Charles’ broken body, but the blood had begun to seep outward, creeping toward the light; a silent witness to my crime. The sun would find him in the morning… and he would burn away. Two of us walked into that alley… and only I was walking out. Charles’ story ended here.
But for now, I walked away, the weight of his last words echoing in my mind. Please, save them. And deep within, Myoordrakien stirred, its influence tightening its grip on my thoughts. We would find Charles’ family… his friends… we would honor his last request. The destruction wasn’t over… not by a long shot.