In the dimly lit shadows, the old man shrouded in a tattered cloak remains concealed, his face obscured by the depths of darkness. His whispered incantations fill the air, laden with an eerie weight as he chants a blood-binding spell. With a deliberate, almost ritualistic motion, he draws a thin cut across his fingertip, allowing a crimson droplet to fall to the ground. With that same bloodied finger, he begins to inscribe arcane symbols onto his other forearm, the crimson lines etched in contrast to the pallor of his skin.

Unbeknownst to most, including the peculiar Trevor, this old man conceals a sinister secret—a malevolent power that allows him to steal the essence of the gifted and powerful individuals he encounters, using it to further his own nefarious purposes.

As Trevor, the wiry and oddly proportioned man, approaches, carrying a plate of roasted Mistwraith, Malachai instinctively hides the inscribed symbols beneath his sleeve, feigning frailty as he accepts the plate with a feeble hand. At the same time, he discreetly covers the grassy ground at his feet, where the smoking remnants of his previous incantation lay concealed beneath his sandaled foot.

With a disconcertingly wide smile that seems too large for his face, Trevor introduces himself, his forehead creasing like that of an inquisitive pug dog. He appears youthful but bears strange proportions, his oversized head perched atop a diminutive frame, while his small arms belie the veined muscles they contain.

"I'm Trevor," he announces cheerfully, leaning in so close to Malachai that the old man involuntarily leans back to maintain some semblance of personal space. "I thought you might be hungry."

Malachai, maintaining his facade of feebleness, masks his true intentions with a dry, raspy voice. "Thank you, Trevor. It looks delicious. You might want to go grab yourself a plate before it's all gone."

Trevor dismisses the idea of partaking in the meal, his apparent disinterest in food a facade concealing his true motivation. "Nah, I'm not hungry, really. Just bored. Thought I would see what you were up to."

Unbeknownst to Trevor, he has inadvertently stumbled upon a brewing storm of dark magic and hidden agendas, where a seemingly ordinary interaction holds far more ominous undertones than meets the eye.

"I don't like to eat in front of people, makes me feel like a slob, and I am starving, so if you don't mind," Malachai says, his voice still raspy and feeble.

“I don’t mind.” Trevor, undeterred by Malachai's reluctance to eat in public, grins widely. His oddly proportioned frame settles onto the ground, facing away from the feast at the fire, his mouth hanging open like a buzzard, a stark contrast to Malachai's discreet demeanor.

"I don't mind at all," Trevor reassures, sharing an oddly personal anecdote. "My dad used to eat on the toilet. That's sick! One time he gave me a lecture for half an hour while eating a slab of roast and potatoes and taking a dump in the can. He would never even close the door."

As Trevor settles into his peculiar storytelling, some of the passengers of the Catamaran hang back, too nervous to approach the roasted food being served. However, most of them busy themselves by sitting with strangers on the ground, engaging in conversations and partaking in the feast, blissfully unaware of the enigmatic encounter unfolding in their midst.

Malachai observes Trevor, his mind calculating the best way to channel his sinister powers. Seizing the opportunity presented by Trevor's distraction as he watches the other passengers, Malachai extends his already bloodied finger and subtly marks the back of Trevor's neck with a swift, practiced motion.

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Conjuring up his own lust for the power of Elias, Malachai imagines the hot plate of food on his lap, channeling this potent longing into Trevor through the blood bond they now share. Trevor startles at the unexpected touch but quickly succumbs to the magical influence.

His glazed eyes fixate on the plate of food on Malachai's lap, and he leans in so close that his nose nearly touches the meat. A hungry, almost ravenous expression crosses Trevor's face as he inhales the scent deeply. "Are you going to eat that?" he asks, his desire palpable.

"In fact, I am," Malachai responds, pulling the plate out from under Trevor's probing nose.

Without another word, Trevor springs to his feet, his sudden hunger consuming his thoughts. "I'll be right back," he announces, his urgency evident. Malachai gestures for him to take his time, hiding his impatience behind a calm facade. He scans the area for a discreet escape route, his eyes briefly landing on one of the imposing twins walking behind the police officer, and then on the other twin and the wild red-haired man carving a spear in the woods.

Cursing softly to himself, Malachai contemplates his next move. Trevor, now back at the fire, rudely shoves his way to the front of the food line, demanding his share. The cook is taken aback by the abruptness but complies, slicing off a generous portion of meat onto Trevor's plate. Trevor stands there, expectant, prompting the cook to heap an even larger portion onto the plate.

Turning away from the commotion, Trevor locks eyes with Malachai, his grin displaying an almost childlike excitement. Malachai squirms inwardly, aware that he must remain in the background for now, carefully observing Elias and biding his time to execute his plans.

Malachai's calculating gaze remains fixed on the Catamaran, his thoughts already turning toward the escape route he will need when the time comes. Shaking off the persistent presence of Trevor will be crucial to his plans.

As Trevor settles onto the stump beside Malachai, his clumsiness causing both of them to shift and balance precariously on the edge of the seat, he digs into the plate of food with voracious enthusiasm. Chewing with his mouth open, he consumes handfuls of meat as if driven by an insatiable appetite.

Malachai, more reserved and composed, selects a manageable piece and chews it thoughtfully. Between bites, he addresses Trevor, his dry tone conveying a sense of purpose. "Do you think you could go aboard the Catamaran and find us some utensils to eat with?"

Trevor, his speech punctuated by the frequent interruptions of his meal, manages to respond, "We were lucky to find plates that weren't broken. Everything was flung everywhere in there. We found these scattered across the floor in there. Everybody's stuff is all mixed up. It's a good time to go shopping if you know what I mean."

Malachai's mind works methodically, calculating the intricate details of his unfolding plan. The chaos and confusion aboard the Catamaran offer him the perfect cover to discreetly further his sinister designs. With Trevor unwittingly playing a part in his scheme, Malachai begins to piece together a strategy that will allow him to seize the coveted power he desires.

He knows that it's only a matter of time before another predator comes across the scent of his blood magic spell and is driven mad by the intoxicating lure of power. Like a rabid dog, this malevolent force will be drawn down into the unsuspecting passengers of the Catamaran, creating chaos and discord among them.

Malachai's eyes narrow with a sinister gleam as he contemplates the impending power surge, he felt emanating from Elias earlier. He understands that this surge will return, and when it does, he intends to seize the opportunity. He plans to snatch the young man while he is at his most vulnerable, capitalizing on the distraction caused by the turmoil that the invading force will bring.

With his plans aligning and the pieces falling into place, Malachai awaits the perfect moment to make his move, confident that the brewing storm of dark magic and hidden agendas will soon reach its devastating crescendo.