Saturday.
The sun had barely begun to stretch across the horizon when Damien was already in the training hall—shirtless, barefoot, his breath slow and measured. The chamber was silent save for the hum of distant enchantments keeping the air circulating and the surfaces cool.
He stood before the same steel table from days past.
The vial was there again.
Ravenous Breath.
Thin glass, etched with containment runes, housing that unnatural shimmer. It pulsed faintly in the light—like something alive was sealed within.
He didn't hesitate.
Uncork. Inhale.
The gas hit him like a surge of lightning—pure fire threading through his veins, igniting everything it touched. His chest bloomed with heat, muscles tensed, and his blood felt thick with fuel.
His heart spiked. His senses sharpened. His skin prickled from head to toe.
Ravenous Breath had taken hold.
And it was time.
