Ten years later.
The boy crouched low in the shadows, his ribs sharp beneath his skin, his hair matted and wild. His eyes—cold, gray, unblinking—watched the tunnel ahead.
A dungeon hare sniffed cautiously at the air, its fur pale and eyes crimson. It hopped closer to the crude snare Kael had built with twine made of sinew and bones.
Kael's stomach growled so loudly he feared the creature would hear.
Just a little closer…
Snap!
The snare whipped tight, clamping around the hare's leg. It shrieked, flailing wildly.
Kael lunged, driving a jagged bone shard into its throat. Blood spattered across his arms as the beast went limp.
Panting, he dropped to his knees, tearing at the flesh with trembling fingers. The meat was raw, but he didn't care. He devoured it in frenzied bites, blood dripping down his chin.
Then it happened.
The mark on his chest pulsed.
Warmth spread through his body. His shallow wounds closed. His limbs grew heavier… stronger.
Kael froze mid-bite, staring at his hands. The glow on his chest flickered faintly like embers in the dark.
"…This dungeon," he whispered hoarsely, "…feeds me back."
He licked the blood from his fingers, his eyes burning with hunger—not just for food, but for the strange power filling him.