As the man carved bloody chunks from Valerius's severed leg and chewed greedily, flickers of memories not his own flashed across his mind—visions of Valerius's life, brief and disjointed like shattered glass. Faces, voices, fleeting moments of joy and fear. The man froze mid-bite, eyes going distant. Tears welled in his gray irises, spilling down the deep lines of his cheeks.
He wiped them away with a trembling, filthy hand. His voice cracked, raw and unhinged. "I haven't seen a person in so many years… let alone a woman…" His breathing quickened, teeth gritting. "So deprived… so… utterly alone… THIS WORLD IS UNFAIR!" He hurled the bloody leg bone against the far wall, the crack echoing like thunder.
He threw his head back and howled with laughter—a ragged, hysterical sound that bounced off the bones of his nightmarish home. Then, with manic speed, he lunged for Valerius, bending low until his tangled white beard brushed Valerius's pale face. His eyes were wide, pupils tiny pinpricks of madness.
"I keep seeing her…" he hissed, spittle flecking Valerius's skin. "A woman… truly exquisite. WHO IS SHE?" His voice rose to a shriek. Valerius's eyes rolled back, unable even to scream, locked in agony and terror.
The man's lips curled into a crooked grin. "Not speaking, hmm?" he said, his tone dripping with unhinged glee. "Then let's see what else you're hiding." He buried his jagged teeth into Valerius's abdomen, tearing a ragged strip of flesh free. Valerius's scream split the air, hoarse and desperate.
Blood dripped from the man's mouth as he lifted his head, eyes shining with frenzied joy. "Ahhh… Lyriana…" he whispered reverently, each syllable thick with lustful madness. "That… is… her… name." His laughter started low, bubbling up until it shook his entire body. "It is truly… a WONDERFUL day!"
He staggered back, collapsing beside the massive thigh bone that served as Valerius's altar. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he looked to the crimson sky, eyes reflecting the swirling storms beyond. "Such an… interesting family… so very DIFFERENT…" His voice grew dreamy, but his smile never softened. He seized Valerius's hand, tore off two fingers with a savage bite, and chewed, his teeth cracking the bones with slow, deliberate precision.
Blood dribbled from his chin as he spoke between bites. "So… lonely…" he murmured, voice lilting like a child's song. "No one to talk to… just… those… STUPID VOICES THAT WON'T SHUT UP!" His sudden shriek echoed off the towering piles of bones. He swallowed the fingers, licking his lips with shaking delight. "I'm full already… that's… odd…"
His eyelids fluttered. His wild gaze grew heavy, blinking slowly as he slumped against the wall of rib bones. "So… tired…" he mumbled, a giggle slipping from his lips before sleep claimed him.
For hours, the lair fell silent but for Valerius's labored, pained breathing. Then his body began to tremble. Muscle fibers writhed beneath his torn skin, bones knitting themselves with a grotesque crackle. Valerius's throat tore open with a ragged, primal scream as his reconstruction began.
The man stirred, blinking awake. He yawned hugely, lips smacking, eyes bleary—until they fell upon Valerius's arm. His gaze sharpened instantly. "Oh… it's you," he said, voice low and almost tender. He watched the healing with dark fascination. As the minutes crawled by, the regrowth accelerated, his hand and wrist restoring fully, fingers flexing unconsciously.
The man's eyes darted left and right. His smile stretched unnaturally wide. "I… could have sworn…" His voice trailed into a whisper. "I ATE THAT HAND…" His breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling. "Was it… a dream?" His gaze snapped to Valerius's regrowing leg, muscles knitting back together, skin smoothing. Only the toes remained unfinished.
A slow, disbelieving laugh bubbled from his chest, growing louder until it became a wild, hysterical cackle. He slapped his knee with bloody hands, tears pouring down his sunken cheeks. "YOU… ARE… TRULY… A BLESSING!" His voice rose to a ragged scream. "MY VERY OWN… UNLIMITED… FOOD!"
He collapsed to his knees, sobbing with manic joy. He wiped his tears with the back of his hairy hand, beard clumped with gore, eyes alight with feverish glee. "I'm so happy…" he whispered, voice cracking as he began to laugh again, the sound bouncing madly through his bone-built lair.
---
The man crawled forward on hands and feet like some monstrous beast, his eyes locked hungrily on Valerius's regenerating leg. He hovered over the healing flesh, breath steaming in the toxic air, voice low and trembling with giddy fascination. "So… fascinating…" he whispered, saliva dripping from cracked lips. His fingers traced the seams of Valerius's freshly knitted skin, eyes wide as saucers. "You… you heal so beautifully."
As Valerius's screams finally fell silent, his chest rising and falling raggedly, the man cocked his head. "Is this… a seed ability?" His voice cracked with dark delight. Valerius's eyes fluttered open, filled with raw, hopeless terror. He gasped out, voice hoarse, "Lorde… I need you… LORDE—"
The man's face twisted instantly from childlike curiosity to a mask of cold, leering menace. He rose to his full, towering height and stepped around to Valerius's head, every footfall a deep, crushing thud in the fractured stone. His gray eyes glowed with dark joy as he bent low, beard brushing Valerius's bloody cheek. "Won't tell me?" he murmured, breath hot and rank. His lips peeled back into a grin so wide it split the shadows across his face. "Okay, then… let's find out."
He stretched out a huge, gnarled hand. Valerius's eyes widened in horror, head thrashing weakly, but his strength was nothing—barely enough to twitch his fingers. The man's fingers descended, massive and unyielding, pressing into the center of Valerius's chest. Skin tore with a sickening rip, blood fountaining around the knuckles. Valerius's scream tore through the lair, echoing wildly through the bone-choked darkness.
The man's hand sank deeper, muscles flexing with horrifying precision. His thumb, middle, and index fingers found Valerius's seed, nestled like a marble of molten light in the center of his chest. He held it delicately, fingers twitching with barely restrained glee. His ragged breath whistled through his teeth as he bent down until his eyes were inches from Valerius's wide, tear-filled gaze.
"I… knew it…" the man crooned, voice quivering with exultant madness. "You DO have a seed… no creature heals like you without one. You're very… very lucky…" His grin split wider, eyes gleaming with a crazed light. "What do you say… shouldn't I take it for myself?" His voice slipped into a taunting whisper, soft as a blade against the throat.
Far beyond the world, through Valerius's eyes, a being watched—muscles coiled, fists clenched, eyes burning with fury, waiting… waiting…
But the man's smirk only grew more sinister. "Too bad…" he purred, breath ghosting cold over Valerius's face, "because that would kill you… and I need you… ALIVE."
He pulled his blood-slick fingers free with a wet, sucking noise, rivers of crimson spilling down Valerius's chest. The man wiped his gore-stained hand across Valerius's face, smearing the blood like war paint. "You…" he hissed, voice low and vibrating with ecstatic madness, "are mine now. My… constant… source… of food." His laugh was slow and hollow, echoing like a funeral bell.
He leaned so close Valerius could see every crack in his yellowed teeth, eyes wide and unblinking. "We're going to have… such a WONDERFUL time together…" he breathed, voice dripping with lunatic glee.
Terror rooted Valerius deeper than he'd ever known—this wasn't the fear of death. It was something far worse: the suffocating dread of endless, unending torment. His thoughts spiraled in wild panic: Why isn't Lorde coming? Did he abandon me? Am I not doing it right? Damn it… why… WHY do these things keep happening to me?
---
In Zitry, the second section of Festitude Academy, the classroom buzzed with quiet concentration. Sunlight streamed through tall, narrow windows, illuminating orderly rows of desks where students scribbled notes under the watchful gaze of softly glowing crystal globes that floated near the ceiling.
Ziraiah sat near the center of the room, her eyes fixed on the shimmering runes projected above the blackboard—until Yelleen's voice cut into her mind with icy urgency:
"I've lost connection to Valerius."
She jolted to her feet, chair clattering across the polished marble floor. "What?" she blurted.
The entire class turned in unison, dozens of students blinking at her sudden outburst. The elderly mage at the lectern lowered his monocle, peering over it with a thin frown. "Did you not understand something, Ziraiah?" he asked, voice clipped with irritation.
Ziraiah flushed, forcing an awkward smile. "Oh—sorry," she stammered, sitting back down. Her mind flared with frantic urgency as she spoke to Yelleen in thought. What do you mean you've lost connection to him?
"I have no idea where he is," Yelleen answered, voice taut. "I cannot contact him. He stepped through a rift."
Rift? Ziraiah's thoughts were a storm. What is that?
"A portal," Yelleen replied gravely, "to other parts of the world… or other realms."
Ziraiah's fists clenched in her lap. That stupid idiot. You let him enter it?
"I didn't notice it in time," Yelleen confessed, voice low with frustration.
Then what do we do now? Ziraiah demanded.
There was a heavy pause. "If even I can't connect to him…" Yelleen said at last, each word dropping like a stone, "…then there is nothing we CAN do."
---
Far across the sprawling grounds of Festitude Academy, in the lecture hall of Section 3—a few kilometers from where Ziraiah studied—Eryndor sat beneath vaulted ceilings lined with shimmering runic lanterns. The quiet hum of students filled the air, whispers threading between long wooden benches stacked with thick tomes.
His eyes grew distant as Yelleen's urgent voice cut sharply through his mind:
"I cannot locate your brother. He is… lost."
Eryndor's jaw tightened. His hands balled into trembling fists on the desk. You mean to inform me you are incapable of ascertaining my brother's whereabouts? he thought furiously. Was it not you who so assuredly declared him beyond peril?"
"Things happened," Yelleen answered, voice strained.
Eryndor's chair scraped sharply against the stone floor as he rose. Conversations stilled. Dozens of curious eyes followed him as he strode purposefully down the center aisle. Yelleen's voice chased after him, tense: "Where are you going?"
He said nothing.
"Say something, Eryndor!" Yelleen pleaded.
Eryndor stopped at the towering wooden doors, spinning around to face empty air. His voice rang through the hushed hall, cold and thunderous: "We placed our trust in you, Yelleen! You proclaimed yourself our guide, declared us exceptional. You vowed to ensure our safety—and now you stand before me and confess that my brother is adrift in this accursed realm under your vigilant gaze?"
The echo of his words rippled down the vaulted corridor as he stormed out of the hall, boots striking the marble with cold finality. He stalked through labyrinthine hallways, breath ragged with rage.
"Where are you going?" Yelleen asked again, her voice almost desperate.
Eryndor ignored her. He stopped before a heavy oak door etched with enigmatic runes, his hand trembling as it closed around the handle. He exhaled slowly, his voice glacial and precise. "In my tenure here," he murmured, "I have acquired a most… unconventional acquaintance."
He pushed the door open with a low creak, stepping into a dimly lit room overflowing with teetering piles of books, stained maps, bubbling flasks, and glowing crystals. The scent of burnt herbs and old parchment hung thick in the air. Shelves sagged under mountains of dusty tomes, and cracked glassware lay scattered across the floor.
Eryndor wrinkled his nose, his gaze sweeping disdainfully across the disarray. "I perceive," he drawled, stepping gingerly over a snoring, six-legged lizard sprawled atop a precarious stack of books, "this chamber remains every bit as squalid as ever."
From above, a rickety wooden ladder leaned precariously against a teetering bookshelf stacked to the vaulted ceiling. A sudden slip—and a tall, blue-haired figure tumbled from the top with a startled yelp.
Eryndor moved with preternatural speed, catching the falling boy effortlessly in his arms before he hit the ground.
"Thanks, man," the boy muttered, cheeks flushed as he glanced around the cluttered room. "But uh… put me down, please—someone might get the wrong idea."
Eryndor smirked faintly and set him back on his feet.
The boy dusted himself off, standing nearly ten feet tall even while slouching. His messy blue hair stuck out in wild tufts, eyes the bright, electric blue of lightning caught in a storm. His broad shoulders bore the crest of House Jermiah, but unlike most scions of great houses, his name was whispered across Festitude Academy not with admiration—but with wary exasperation. Alvin De Jermiah was considered an oddball, a misfit who made people uncomfortable with his unpredictable antics and strange hobbies; most students gave him a wide berth, finding him just a little too strange to trust.
"So," Alvin drawled, leaning against a leaning stack of grimoires with a crooked grin, "what's my favorite friend doing all the way out here?"
Eryndor arched an eyebrow. "I am your sole companion."
"Semantics," Alvin shrugged dramatically.
Eryndor gestured imperiously for Alvin to incline himself. With a curious tilt of his head, Alvin obliged, lowering until their eyes met on equal ground. Eryndor's voice fell to a cutting whisper. "This concerns your… special magic."
Alvin's expression shifted instantly, eyes narrowing. "Hey," he hissed, glancing around wildly, "we can't talk about that here. I haven't cast my silence spell yet. Give me a second."
He snapped his fingers, chanting arcane syllables under his breath. A shimmering field of pale blue mana flickered into existence around them, a bubble of absolute silence that swallowed every sound beyond its boundary.
"Alright," Alvin said, voice suddenly hushed even though the silence field kept it contained, "spill it—what's going on?"
"My brother is missing," Eryndor declared bluntly, his eyes shadowed with fierce urgency. "He traversed some manner of… rift. I require your assistance in locating him. Are you capable of this?"
Alvin scratched his chin thoughtfully, blue bangs falling across his eyes. "Hmm… depends. How far did he go? You got anything that belonged to him?"
Eryndor hesitated, then reached into his coat. He withdrew a small, timeworn red handkerchief, its edges frayed with age. "This once belonged to him," Eryndor confessed softly. "He vexed me one day, and in my ire I seized many of his treasured possessions. I cannot fathom why I have held onto it all these years…"
Alvin's gaze softened as he took the handkerchief delicately between two fingers, mana already beginning to swirl faintly around him.
"Then let's see if I can find your brother," he said, eyes flashing with determination.
---
To Be Continued...