The air in the temple didn't just feel cold anymore—it felt invasive, like some unseen force was prodding at me, poking at the edges of my sanity. Lavar, poor guy, dropped to his knees, his hands clawing at the stone floor like it was going to swallow him whole. I mean, I get it. This pain wasn't just the usual kind; it was like a drumbeat in his chest, thrumming in time with my talisman but sharper—way sharper. And every tiny breath he took, every struggling gasp, made it feel like his lungs were filling with frost.
"Get... out of my head," he wheezed, his vision clearly swirling like a dizzy spell on a carnival ride.
But I didn't budge. Nope. My image flickered like a half-baked hologram, overlapping perfectly with his personal space. "I'm not in your head, partner. I'm in your blood now. That's the price of a soul-bound contract." There's a certain satisfaction from twisting the knife in these moments. I caught a glimpse of my own hands, the ethereal nature of them becoming more opaque, more defined. I flexed my fingers, relishing the feel of it. "The bond is hungry, Lavar. And I'm starving."
"What do you want?" he managed to stand, his legs shaking like he just ran a marathon—or maybe like he just faced down a terrifying truth.
I turned my attention toward the temple exit, my emerald eyes fixated on the glimmering lights of the city beyond. "I want to taste something other than dust and memory. There's a bakery on the corner of 4th and Vine. It's been there for eighty years, if you can believe that. They make a honey cake that smells like sunlight."
Lavar looked at me like I'd just lost my mind. "You dragged me into a blood pact for... cake?"
"Not just the cake," I hissed, letting the chill slither into my words. They need to feel the gravity of this. "I want the heat of the ovens. I want the sound of the bell on the door. And if you don't get me there before the sun kisses the horizon, that 'binding sensation' in your chest? It's gonna start squeezing—hard."
A sharp pinch jabbed at his heart, a literal tug urging him toward the door. Let's just say I wasn't asking; I was tethering him, pulling at strings woven deep into the fabric of our pact.
"Move," I commanded, a smirk creeping back onto my lips. "I've waited fifty years for a snack. Don't make me wait another minute."
There are moments in life where you can't mess around, you know? And this? This was one of them. Time was ticking, and my hunger wasn't going to dissipate quietly.