The forest's mist clung to Lucian's skin as he stepped over the scattered remains of the beasts he had felled. Their blood stained the earth, its scent thick in the air — and it called to him.
But it wasn't enough.
The pulse of something deeper echoed inside him. A gnawing, unrelenting hunger. Not for food, nor water. No — this was ancient, primal. A craving etched into his very soul.
His steps faltered.
He grasped at a nearby trunk, the bark rough beneath his fingers. His veins felt as though they carried fire, not blood. The very power that had saved him now threatened to unravel him.
"What is this?" he rasped aloud, his voice hoarse, edged with something darker.
Memories of the crimson warmth flooding his throat… the way it had lit up his senses… surged back. The need clawed at him, each moment a battle.
Then he heard it.
Heartbeats.
Two of them.
Lucian's gaze snapped up, and through the thinning mist he saw a flicker of orange glow. A campfire. Two figures huddled beside it — unaware of the predator approaching.
Their hearts beat in perfect rhythm, a symphony of life.
He licked his lips unconsciously.
I need this.
The thought was unbidden, yet undeniable. His body moved without permission, silent and swift. Every step brought the scent of blood closer, the warmth of it teasing his senses.
Lucian's fists clenched.
"I'm not a monster," he growled, though even he could hear the lie in his voice.
But the hunger cared little for declarations.
It wanted to feed.
Lucian knelt behind the shadow of an ancient oak, his gaze fixed on the two figures bathed in firelight. Their conversation was a soft hum in the night, their laughter cutting through the mist.
But it was their heartbeats that commanded him.
Each beat sent a pulse through the air, a hypnotic thrum that tugged at the monster lurking within. His hands curled into fists, the claws of hunger raking through his gut.
His throat felt parched, aching.
The warmth of their blood, the thought of it flooding his senses again, made his muscles tighten.
"No…" he hissed under his breath.
Lucian fought to anchor himself. The memory of Seraphine's warning echoed: "Your greatest battle will be against yourself."
He closed his eyes, focusing on the pain in his lip where he bit down, letting the sharp sting distract him. But the hunger was relentless.
One of the men rose, his form silhouetted against the fire, veins pumping faster from the simple act of movement.
Lucian's pulse raced in answer.
One step. Just one step…
His body begged him to move, to strike, to take what was his.
But somehow — through sheer will — Lucian tore himself away, staggering deeper into the dark.
"I am not a slave to this," he rasped, though his voice trembled with uncertainty.
Each step was a battle.
Each heartbeat left behind was a victory.
But the hunger was not gone. It clung to him like a shadow, waiting.
The forest around Lucian grew darker, the mist thickening as he forced himself farther from the camp. The gnawing ache inside him refused to fade, each beat of his heart echoing the hunger that pulsed through his veins.
It was maddening.
Every sound — the snap of a twig, the flutter of wings — sharpened against his heightened senses. Yet none carried the weight, the intoxicating pull of human blood.
Until the stream.
Lucian dropped to his knees at the water's edge, staring into the glassy surface. The face that stared back was both familiar and alien. His eyes glowed with a crimson hue, unnatural, predatory. His pale skin looked like polished marble under the moonlight.
This is what I am now.
He gritted his teeth, splashing cold water onto his burning face. It stung, but it couldn't wash away the hunger.
Then — movement.
He turned, and there in the shadows, a deer stood. Its trembling form, its rapid heartbeat, the scent of blood coursing through its veins — all of it called to him.
Lucian's body moved before reason could catch up.
He launched forward in a blur, his senses narrowing to the pulse in the creature's neck. In an instant, his hands gripped the deer, his strength far beyond what it had been mere hours ago.
The hunger took control.
Teeth bared, he bit down.
The blood was warm, but wrong. Thin. Lacking the depth of human life.
Yet he drank.
Desperation made him take more than he should have, the animal's body growing still in his grip.
When at last he pulled away, he felt no satisfaction. No relief. Only a shallow, fleeting quiet before the hunger flared again.
Human blood. Only that can satisfy me now.
The terrifying truth settled in his chest.
The deer's lifeless body collapsed at Lucian's feet, its blood staining the earth dark. He could still taste it — warm, metallic — but it left no satisfaction. No peace.
He wiped his mouth with trembling fingers, disgust curling in his gut.
It wasn't enough.
The truth hit him harder than any wound.
He would need human blood.
The deer, though a temporary distraction, was little more than a poor imitation of what his body now demanded.
He sank to his knees, the weight of his new reality suffocating.
"This isn't me," Lucian growled, though his voice trembled.
But it was him now. A creature of the night. A predator. No matter how much he fought it, the hunger was part of him — and it was growing stronger.
His thoughts turned to Seraphine, the woman who had found him, who had spoken of control and power.
I have to find her.
She was the only link to this dark world, the only one who might help him hold onto whatever was left of his humanity.
The night felt colder.
Lucian rose slowly, his resolve hardening like tempered steel. He could not stay in these woods. Every passing hour chipped away at his will.
He would track her down — demand answers, demand guidance.
For now, he would endure.
But deep down, a terrible truth whispered:
One day, he might not be able to resist.
And that thought chilled him more than the hunger.
Lucian stood, his limbs tense, his heart heavy. The forest, once a place of refuge, had turned into a cold, suffocating trap.
There's no staying here.
His body moved with eerie grace now — faster, stronger, a predator's form barely contained within his human frame. Every muscle hummed with unnatural power, and yet a weariness crept in too, a mental exhaustion he couldn't shake.
He had to find Seraphine.
The camp lay somewhere behind him, the soft glow of firelight painting faint shadows across the trees. Lucian turned his back on it, unwilling to risk another temptation. He wasn't ready. Not yet.
Instead, he chose the darker path, one that led further into the wilderness. The cold wind brushed against his face, carrying unfamiliar scents and sounds that his heightened senses greedily devoured.
He didn't belong to that old world anymore.
The old Lucian — the weak, uncertain man — was gone. In his place stood something new, something dangerous. And while fear still gnawed at him, a quiet resolve began to take root.
He would find answers.
He would find Seraphine.
And he would master the monster inside him, or be devoured by it.
With one last glance toward the fading glow of the campfire, Lucian turned and disappeared into the night.
The true journey had begun.