The chamber breathed.
That was Adrian's first thought as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The vast hall was not stone but something deeper, darker—walls that pulsed faintly, like the skin of a slumbering beast. Every breath he took came back to him as a whisper, soft and insistent, echoing his heartbeat.
At the center of the chamber stretched the table.
It was long enough that he could not see its end, carved from bone the color of moonlight, ribs fused into an altar. Upon it lay a banquet of impossible abundance: platters of crimson meat still steaming as though freshly torn from living flesh; fruit that swelled and throbbed like beating hearts; chalices that smoked with shadow, their rims gilded with blood-red light. The scent was overwhelming—honey and rot, sweetness and iron—an invitation and a threat in every breath.
Around the table sat the feasters.
Faceless, countless, cloaked in darkness. Their heads turned as one when Adrian stepped across the threshold. He felt their gaze without eyes, their hunger without mouths. A thousand throats breathed his name in unison, the sound slick and unbearable.
"Welcome, Vessel," they whispered. "Welcome, Hunger."
Cassia clung to his arm, trembling so violently he thought she might collapse. Her face was pale, her lips pressed tight as though even breathing this air might poison her. Still, she held him. Still, she would not let go.
Selene, by contrast, walked ahead, her crimson gown trailing like spilled wine. Her steps were unhurried, almost reverent. She stopped before the table, gaze sweeping the grotesque bounty with something close to satisfaction.
"This," she said, her voice low but steady, "is power given form."
Adrian's chest burned. The mark pulsed violently beneath his shirt, each beat hotter than the last, answering the rhythm of the chamber. He pressed a hand against it, gritting his teeth. The shard was gone, but its echo throbbed alive inside him, rejoicing at the sight of the feast.
He whispered to himself, but the words carried: "It wants me to eat."
Selene turned, her eyes alight with a fire that belonged to no mortal woman. "Then eat, Adrian. Take what it offers. Claim it before it claims you."
Cassia gasped, pulling him back. "No! Don't listen to her! This isn't food—it's corruption! It's a trap!" Her voice cracked, desperation raw. "If you eat from this table, you'll never come back. You'll lose yourself forever."
The faceless feasters leaned forward as one, their whispers overlapping until they became a chant, thick as smoke:
Feed. Feed. Feed.
The air thickened, syrup-slow and suffocating. Adrian staggered, clutching his chest. The mark flared, and in his mind came visions—searing, undeniable.
He saw himself tearing into the feast, blood and sweetness staining his lips, his veins blazing with strength beyond imagining. He saw Selene pressed against him, fire merging with his hunger until the chamber itself bowed to their union. He saw Cassia weeping, her purity consumed, but her devotion still binding him, making his new form invincible.
The visions shifted.
He saw himself refuse, saw the feasters rise from the table, faceless mouths opening wide to devour him whole. He saw Cassia's broken body, Selene's chained fire, his own form hollowed into nothing but a shell for the shard's will.
He dropped to his knees, gasping, the taste of ash already on his tongue.
Cassia fell beside him, cupping his face in trembling hands. "Don't look at them! Look at me. You're stronger than this. You chose yourself once—you can do it again."
Selene knelt too, but her touch was different—firm, commanding, nails grazing his jaw. "No, Adrian. Strength isn't denial. Strength is acceptance. Take it, and no one will ever own you again."
Their voices crashed against each other, filling his skull. His body trembled, every nerve alive, his skin crawling with hunger not his own.
The feasters' chant rose.
Feed. Feed. Feed.
The banquet shifted, plates rearranging themselves, meat steaming, fruits pulsing, goblets spilling black wine across the bone table. The smell of it was unbearable, thick and sweet, filling his lungs until he thought he might drown in it.
Adrian's hands shook. His mouth watered despite his revulsion. The mark seared white-hot, burning through his shirt, bleeding light into the chamber. The feasters moaned in unison, a sound of ecstasy, their faceless heads jerking as though in prayer.
Selene's lips brushed his ear, her whisper a blade of heat: "Take it. Take me. Together we will master it."
Cassia pressed her forehead to his, her tears cooling his burning skin. "Don't. Please, Adrian. Don't leave me alone in this."
He screamed.
The chamber shook, the walls bending inward, shadows writhing like serpents. His voice tore from his throat raw, layered with the shard's echo. "Enough!"
The chant ceased. The feasters froze. Even the banquet stilled, fruits ceasing their pulse, goblets quieting their smoke.
Adrian rose unsteadily, fire and light crackling around him, his eyes burning with inhuman glow.
"I will not be your vessel," he snarled. "Not for hunger. Not for shadows. Not for anyone."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the chamber roared.
The feasters rose as one, faceless forms towering, their cloaks whipping in a wind that had no source. The table split down the center, bone cracking like thunder. From the rupture poured darkness—thick, alive, rushing upward like a tide.
Cassia screamed, clutching him. Selene laughed, mad with delight, crimson gown whipping around her as the storm swallowed them.
The mark on Adrian's chest blazed blindingly, searing through fabric and flesh alike. He felt himself pulled in two directions: upward, toward the storm, and inward, toward the hunger in his veins.
The voice returned, not whispering now but thundering:
"Feed—or be unmade."
Adrian's knees buckled. His vision blurred. He saw Cassia's eyes—pleading, broken, endless devotion. He saw Selene's lips—curved, demanding, aflame with lust and fury. He saw the faceless feasters—arms outstretched, offering eternity.
The choice bore down on him like a blade.
His hand reached forward—toward the table, toward the feast, toward damnation or salvation.
The chamber erupted in light.