The cannibal's body stumbled slightly as she moved into the faintly lit corridor—
Her strong, but thin figure dissipates into the shadows, leaving the girl behind.
Many rushing cultists bumped past her with no regard for her existence—
For she was simply an impasse in their divine plan.
As each individual rudely knocked into her and continued—
Her delicate body could be seen falling over, an almost dramatic scene.
Her palms scraped against the coarse cavern floor, catching her fall before her cheek could meet the stone. She hissed softly through gritted teeth, more out of irritation than pain. Their indifference burned more than the sharp sting in her hands. But what did she expect? This place was not built on kindness. The sanctuary—this underground haven—was a cage draped in ritual and secrecy. A home for the cursed.
Behind her, the girl lingered near the chamber's edge, eyes wide, arms folded closely to her chest. She flinched with every shout echoing down the corridor. Her steps were hesitant, feet unsure on the uneven ground. She had followed the cannibal out, perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps fear of being left behind—but now, as the chaos of the sanctuary unfolded around her, her presence felt even more out of place.
The cannibal rose to her feet without grace. She didn't bother dusting off the dirt clinging to her skin. Her hunger, suppressed for too long, pressed into her ribs like a rusted dagger. She wanted—no, needed—to find something to gnaw into. But the twisted logic of survival kept her gaze tethered to the girl.
She turned slightly, eyeing her with thinly veiled annoyance.
"Move," she muttered. "Before someone decides to trample you for real."
The girl blinked and nodded quickly, scurrying toward her with that same strange lack of fear. That fragile trust that unsettled the cannibal more than any shriek or threat of death. She didn't ask questions, only kept close as the two of them pushed deeper into the sanctuary's arterial tunnels.
All around them, life stirred with frenzied energy. Priestesses marched with ceremonial blades tucked into belts, cloaks stained with old blood trailing behind them like shadows. Initiates chanted low prayers in twisted tongues. Some wept. Some screamed. And others knelt with bloodied knees before grotesque altars built from bone and blackened stone.
The air pulsed with the thick stench of burnt incense and rot. Crimson dripped down the walls in places—whether from old rites or fresh offerings was unclear. The stone beneath their feet was slick in patches, warm in others. Everything breathed in this place, as though the mountain itself were alive.
The cannibal stopped at a junction, her eyes scanning the passageways splitting off into darkness. One corridor glowed faintly, torches leading into a communal chamber. Another descended, spiraling downward, where shadows danced and sounds of ritual carried upward like smoke. Her instincts tugged her toward the lower path. That's where the hunger would find something—someone—to feed on.
But the girl behind her tugged gently at the hem of her shirt.
"I think... we were supposed to go that way," she said softly, gesturing to the left, toward the communal chamber.
The cannibal narrowed her eyes, gaze flicking between the path she wanted and the path the girl suggested. She hated how easily her movements were influenced by the slip of a voice behind her. But something about the way she said it—hesitant, hopeful—cut through the haze in her mind.
She turned left.
Inside the chamber, dozens of initiates gathered around a massive stone basin filled with a dark, viscous liquid. A high priestess stood before them, arms outstretched, voice ringing out in verses that twisted through the air like living things. The goddess's name—Ternoxae—reverberated with every utterance, as if the very stones responded to it.
The cannibal hung back near the wall, her arms crossed. She didn't join the others kneeling before the basin. She couldn't. Not when the smell of blood, real and symbolic, made her mouth ache.
The girl beside her was more composed now. She stepped forward slowly, drawn to the ceremony like a moth to flame. Her eyes sparkled with an unreadable emotion—was it awe? Or something deeper?
"I think... I've been here before," she whispered.
The cannibal tilted her head. "What?"
The girl turned toward her, confusion etched across her brow. "Not really here. But it feels familiar. Like a dream I forgot."
The cannibal said nothing. She didn't care for riddles wrapped in vague memories. She only knew her hunger sharpened with every moment they stood idle. She would need to feed soon—or risk losing control.
As the initiation continued, the high priestess called forth a handful of names. New initiates, freshly cursed, were dragged into the center for all to witness. Some writhed. Some screamed. Some accepted their fate with hollow eyes and trembling hands. Ternoxae's blessing was never gentle.
The cannibal turned away from the spectacle, jaw clenched. She had no desire to see another poor fool broken under the guise of salvation. She had lived it.
She retreated into the shadows of the chamber, the girl following close behind.
"What curse did you get?" the girl asked, voice nearly swallowed by the echoes.
The cannibal paused. Her lips twitched into a bitter smile.
"Hunger," she said simply. "Endless. Unrelenting. The goddess decided I should always crave what I can't have."
The girl frowned, her expression soft. "That sounds... painful."
"It is," the cannibal replied, eyes dark. "But it keeps me sharp."
They continued walking, past the crowded ceremony and into the deeper, quieter hallways of the sanctuary. These halls were older—less lit, more skeletal. The walls here bore carvings of writhing figures and monstrous forms. Sacrifices. Transformations. Devotions.
Every step they took seemed to echo louder.
Eventually, they reached a heavy iron door embedded into the stone. The cannibal pushed it open with effort, revealing a smaller chamber beyond. A quiet place. A place where hunger could breathe without interruption.
She stepped inside and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. Her bones ached, her muscles trembled with restraint. The scent of blood still clung to the girl, even after all this time.
And yet… she didn't devour her.
Not yet.
The girl wandered around the room, running fingers over ancient relics on the shelves—worn tomes, rusted chains, a chalice carved from bone. She didn't speak. She simply existed, and that was somehow worse.
"I don't understand you," the cannibal muttered.
The girl looked over her shoulder. "I don't understand me either."
A long silence passed between them.
Then, without warning, the cannibal crossed the room and stood in front of her, eyes narrowed.
"You should fear me," she said.
"I don't."
"You should."
"I know."
The girl smiled, and the cannibal's hunger screamed.
Yet, she did not act.
She turned away, stormed back toward the door, hand gripping the frame so tightly her knuckles paled.
"I need air," she growled.
The girl didn't follow immediately. She lingered, watching her leave, eyes filled with something strange—perhaps admiration, perhaps pity.
In the dim corridors of the sanctuary, the cannibal ran. Away from the girl, away from the rituals, away from the cruel joke that she had been cursed to endure.
She ran until her legs gave out. Until her vision blurred. Until she collapsed in a forgotten chamber, gasping for breath.
And there, in the suffocating silence, she screamed. Not in fear. Not in agony.
But in rage.
Because for the first time in a long time…
She didn't want to be alone.
Her breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps as she tried to steady herself against the cold stone floor. The isolation of this place, the sheer weight of the hunger gnawing at her insides, became too much to bear. Alone. Always alone. That was how she had lived, how she had survived. But now, with the girl in her presence, things were changing. She could no longer shut out the growing need to understand—understand the girl, understand what it was that connected them in ways she couldn't explain.
Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms as the intensity of her feelings collided with the hunger clawing at her gut. In that dark chamber, the hunger seemed louder, more insistent. The emptiness inside her was deeper than it had ever been, but it wasn't just physical—it was emotional too.
For the first time in her life, the cannibal questioned whether being alone was really worth it.
The sound of footsteps approaching cut through her thoughts. A figure, silhouetted against the dim light in the hallway outside the chamber, appeared in the doorway.
She didn't need to look up to know who it was.
"Are you just going to run forever?" The girl's voice was quiet, but it carried a weight to it that made the cannibal's chest tighten.
The cannibal's jaw clenched. She stood slowly, muscles protesting, as she turned to face the girl. Her throat burned with something she couldn't name, and she hated it.
"I didn't ask for this," the cannibal growled, her voice rough.
"I know," the girl whispered back, and her eyes glimmered in the darkness—full of understanding, full of something that made the cannibal's heart stutter.
She stood there, caught between the hunger and the weight of the unspoken bond growing between them.
Neither of them moved. The tension thickened, stretching out like the calm before a storm.
And for the first time, the cannibal wondered… could she allow herself to want this?