Caelum crouched near the twisted roots of a massive tree, his breath shallow, his eyes locked on the carcass of a horned rabbit sprawled across the moss. Its neck was broken cleanly, his doing. He should have felt nothing—it was just another meal, another small victory in this cursed forest. But something in his chest pulsed strangely.
He dragged the limp body closer, his hands sticky with its blood. Normal him would skin it quickly, roast the flesh, and eat just enough to silence the gnawing hunger in his gut. But this time, his gaze lingered on the crimson trickling from the wound.
It shimmered under the dappled sunlight, thick and rich.
Why does it look so… alive?
His lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't know why, but an urge rose within him—a voice that whispered, not from outside, but deep inside his bones. Taste it.
He frowned.… his hand lifted without his permission, slick with scarlet. His heartbeat quickened as if something deep within him already knew what would happen next.
With a deep, almost reluctant breath, Caelum pressed his bloodied fingers to his lips.
The metallic tang of iron burst across his tongue, hot and raw. But what followed froze him where he sat.
His heart didn't just beat, it echoed. For an instant, he felt it, the frantic thumping of the rabbit's last moments, the wild panic of prey staring down death. His muscles tensed, his ears twitched at the faintest sound, his skin prickled with every shift of the air. He could almost hear the grass bending, almost smell the approach of danger even when there was none.
It was as if a second set of instincts had taken root in his mind. A prey's paranoia. A prey's desperate will to survive.
Caelum jerked back, panting. His bloodied hand trembled.
What was that? Did I just… steal something?
He pressed his back against the tree, staring at his hand like it no longer belonged to him. At first, fear knotted in his chest. What if he was losing himself? What if with every taste, he becomes what he devours?
His lips quivered. The urge to vomit wrestled with the urge to try again.
Moments passed. The forest was still. His breath slowed. And then, an idea crept in...
No… this isn't a curse. It's… a gift.
Cautiously, he closed his eyes. He willed himself to sink into that new layer of awareness. And there it was again. The forest sharpened. A beetle scuttled over the bark several paces away, its tiny legs echoing like thunder. A crow shifted its wings high in the canopy, invisible to the naked eye but perfectly clear to his sharpened instincts. Even the faint tremor of the soil betrayed the burrow of a mole beneath the roots.
Caelum's lips parted slowly.
This wasn't illusion. This wasn't madness. He was truly sensing the world with something beyond himself—through the rabbit's essence still clinging to his blood.
A low, disbelieving laugh escaped him, quiet and broken. His laughter shook harder until it scraped against his throat, a sound raw and eerie in the silence of the forest.
Is this… what they felt?
His mind wandered, unbidden, to the memory of his kin—their screams, their laughter, their defiance even as blades cut through them. He remembered how they smiled even as they bled, as though their deaths were not a tragedy but an ecstasy.
He had thought them insane.
But now… now he understood.
The line between terror and joy blurred when survival itself was ecstasy. To live was to laugh, even at the edge of slaughter. Perhaps they weren't broken after all. Perhaps they were simply free.
His chest heaved. A hollow smile spread across his face as he whispered, "So that's why… you laughed. Even while dying."
For the first time in his life, he didn't surpresss the urge inside him. He let it grow.
-----
Caelum's body shivered with the aftertaste of the rabbit's blood still lingering on his tongue. The sharpened instincts prickled across his skin, warning him of every shift in the undergrowth, every flutter of wings above. It was intoxicating, yes—but also dangerous.
He forced himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild thrill that clawed at his chest.
The sun was dipping lower, its light bleeding into orange streaks between the trees. And with it, the forest began to change. Shadows thickened, and the familiar calls of birds grew quieter, swallowed by the promise of predators that ruled the night.
A grimace tugged at his lips. Even with this newfound gift, even with his laughter still echoing in his ears, he wasn't reckless enough to test the darkness of this forest. Not yet.
He scanned the towering trunks around him, then found one broad, its bark rough, its branches thick with leaves. With nimble steps, he climbed, settling into a cradle of branches high above the ground.
For the first time in his life, lying there didn't feel like hiding. It felt… right.
The wind whispered through the leaves, carrying the scent of soil and moss. The bark pressed firmly against his back, oddly warm, almost like an embrace. Perhaps it was the lingering essence of the tree still inside him. Or perhaps it was something else.
Freedom.
His lips curved faintly as his eyes grew heavy. It was strange—he should have been tense, restless, alert to every danger. But instead, a deep calm settled over him, heavier than any fear.
Was it because this was the first time he had left the suffocating walls of his house? The first time no one was watching, judging, controlling him? The first time the breath in his lungs, the blood on his hands, the life in his veins truly felt like his own?
Or was it simply the essence of the forest cradling him, telling him he belonged here, even among dangers?
He didn't know. And he didn't care.
With the forest humming softly beneath him, and the sky darkening into velvet above, Caelum let himself drift into sleep.
And for once, sleep came easily. Deep. Unbroken. Free.