"No… no, no, no, this can't happen. This can't happen!"
The great elder's voice trembled, his hands clutching the ceremonial staff as though the wood could hold the world together. The crystal at the podium still flickered faintly, but its glow was wrong—tainted.
"Where did I go wrong?" His muttering spilled out in a panic, the words barely coherent. "We were just about to place the contract. The time was correct, the invocation flawless. Was there something I missed? No… no, it was said this was the right moment—so why—why is this happening?"
The patriarch's expression was stone, but his clenched jaw betrayed him. His gaze shifted to Brinet, who sat trembling, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. She managed a nervous smile, thin and hollow.
"You're certain… it was Pumon?" she asked, voice brittle.
The patriarch's knuckles whitened on the armrest. His lips pressed into a hard line. "That aura… that suffocating malice. If it wasn't Pumon, then what else could it be?"
The elders erupted into frantic whispers.
"This is bad, this is bad," one muttered, pacing like a trapped beast.
"We are nothing compared to the great houses of the capital," another hissed. "Our elven bloodline is diluted, fragile. If they discover we brought this disaster into the world, we'll be exterminated. Wiped out like vermin."
Murmurs swelled into panic. Servants looked around wide-eyed, elders snapped at one another, and the once-proud hall dissolved into chaos. The word Pumon slithered through the air like a curse, heavy and poisonous.
"Find him!" The patriarch's roar cracked like thunder, silencing the noise for an instant. His eyes burned with desperation. "The boy must not leave the grounds! Do you hear me? Search every corridor, every courtyard, every forest path—now!"
Out of everyone, Brinet knew she's the one with the most trouble, if the boy comes back for them, her death won't be merciful.
Feet thundered as guards and elders scattered. Shouts of Caelum's name echoed against stone walls and into the night.
But no one could find him.
*****
Caelum ran.
His lungs burned, his chest seared, but he didn't stop. He didn't dare. Branches lashed against his arms, his legs ached, but he ran until the sound of pursuit faded into nothingness.
Finally, at the edge of a grove, he stumbled against a broad tree. His knees buckled, and he slumped to the ground.
And then the pain struck.
A violent, searing fire tore through his veins, as though molten iron was being poured into his blood. His vision darkened, spots dancing in his eyes.
"Aaaagh!" His scream ripped through the forest, raw and primal. He clawed at his chest, banged his head against the tree trunk, as though physical pain could drown the inferno inside.
And then the voice returned. Cold. Calm. Absolute.
"You will feel this pain. And after the pain, the anger will consume you. If you cannot find sustenance in the next five minutes… you will not survive."
The words were not a suggestion. They were a verdict.
Caelum's body convulsed. His fingers dug into the earth until dirt filled his nails. His breaths came shallow, ragged. The hunger clawed at him, sharp, unbearable.
"No… no…" he rasped, shaking his head. "This isn't real—"
But it was.
The scent of fruits reached him. He staggered toward them, ripping them from their stems, biting into them with desperation. But the moment the pulp touched his tongue, his face twisted.
Sand.
It tasted like sand. Ash. Emptiness.
His stomach rejected it, his body screamed for something else. Something richer. Warmer. Alive.
His eyes darted wildly, his breathing quickened like a predator's. His hands twitched, his nostrils flared, his body lowering instinctively toward the ground. He was no longer searching like a boy. He was hunting.
And then he saw it.
A small animal. Auburn fur, long ears, quick eyes. He remembered the name from a dusty library book: Atenum. Prey species. Nimble, sharp. Weak, but survivors.
The perfect test of instinct.
Caelum crouched low, hidden behind thick leaves. His body trembled—not from fear, but anticipation. The Atenum twitched its ears, nibbling at roots. It felt no danger.
And then Caelum lunged.
The attack was sudden, precise. Before the creature could turn, its neck was already trapped in his hands. Its squeal died in his grip as teeth sank into flesh.
Warmth. Copper. Richness.
The hunger receded. The pain dulled. And in its place came… something else.
Exhilaration.
His body quivered as he swallowed, a strange euphoria spreading through his limbs. His hands shook, and he looked down to see them slick with blood, foam dripping between his fingers.
He should have felt disgust. Horror.
But instead… he felt power.
Raw. Addictive. Terrifying.
His lips curled into something between a sob and a laugh.
And then the voice whispered once more.
"Congratulations, last heir. You have awakened your first gift."