Chapter 6
The morning came like a lie. The sky was bruised purple, streaked with ash and smoke, sunlight struggling through the haze like a weak pulse. The city beneath us stretched in jagged ruins, skyscrapers bent and broken, streets cracked and littered with the remnants of lives that had ended too soon. Silence hung thick between the skeletal remains, broken only by the faint hiss of wind and the distant moans of the dead.
I could feel it again—the hunger pulsing beneath my skin, stronger than ever after the rooftop battle. Every heartbeat, every breath, carried the echo of the souls I had consumed. They whispered now, insistent, urgent, promising power, speed, clarity. And yet with each whisper, the edges of my mind frayed a little more. The predator inside me roared, demanding release, and the human part of me recoiled, afraid of the cost.
Liora stayed close, her presence tethering me to a world I wasn't sure I deserved. Her hand brushed mine occasionally, a lifeline I could almost pretend kept me grounded. But I knew better. The hunger didn't forgive. It didn't wait. It demanded.
"We should find shelter," I muttered, voice low and rough, unused to gentleness. "We can't stay exposed like this."
Her eyes scanned the ruined streets, cautious, calculating. "There's a partially collapsed apartment block a few blocks east. It looks… safe. Maybe."
Safe was a relative term in this city of death. I didn't argue. I only moved.
As we navigated the streets, the city itself seemed aware of us. Shadows stretched unnaturally. Broken alleyways twisted into impossible angles. The faint wind carried whispers I couldn't place—some memory, some echo of the dead, some warning from the hunger itself.
I stepped over the charred remains of a body and felt a pang—not disgust, but longing. The pull was subtle at first, almost teasing. Then it grew, coiling through my veins like fire. The hunger whispered: There is more. Take them. Become.
I clenched my fists, resisting. Not here. Not now.
And then I heard it.
A scream—sharp, human, full of terror.
Liora's eyes widened. "Somewhere ahead… help!"
The predator inside me snapped. Instinct surged through my muscles, reflexs sharpening to a preternatural clarity. Every soul inside me throbbed with anticipation, eager to be fed. I moved before thinking, sliding through the streets with fluid, impossible speed.
We turned a corner and saw him: a man cornered by three of the undead. His back was to the wall of a burned-out café, hands empty, trembling. The creatures hunched, glowing eyes flickering dimly, teeth gnashing.
The hunger tugged, insistent, sweet, dangerous: Consume. Absorb. Become unstoppable.
I hesitated. Not for long. The moral choice came in an instant: feed for power, or save a life.
Liora's hand found mine. "Jaxon… we have to help him."
The whisper inside me roared. The predator wanted release. The human part wanted mercy. I made my choice.
I stepped forward. The first creature lunged. I let the shard fly, piercing its chest. The soul within flared, flickering fragile. I could have taken it, felt the fire surge through me—but I resisted, barely. Another lunged, faster, sharper. Again, I struck, feeling the tug of power behind me, fighting it down, focusing on saving the man.
The final one leapt at him. My reflexes moved faster than thought. I caught it mid-air, crushing it. I felt the surge, the temptation, but let it pass, choosing control over indulgence.
The man stumbled backward, wide-eyed. "Th-thank you… I thought—"
"Stay alive," I said, voice low, hoarse. That was all. Words felt meaningless. The predator within me roared at restraint, reminding me that each soul I resisted was a spark of defiance against its will.
Liora's voice pulled me back. "We need to move. Now."
We led him east, weaving through the debris, over broken cars and ash. Every step was a test. I could sense the dead gathering, drawn to the residual pulse of the souls within me. My skin itched, trembling—not fatigue, but longing.
Finally, we reached the apartment block. Half its walls had collapsed, exposing floors to the sky, but it offered vantage points, concealment. Liora guided the man inside while I scanned the ruins outside.
And then I saw him. The stranger. Across the street, on the skeletal remains of a streetlight, he watched, motionless. The shard in his hand glimmered faintly, reflecting the dim, broken light of the morning. His gaze was heavy, assessing, measuring. Not threatening—yet—but a reminder that every choice I made was being observed, judged, weighed.
The hunger inside me flared. I clenched my fists, the souls within me pulsing. I could taste power, fire, clarity—and the predator inside me ached to feed. The rush, the warmth, the intoxication of it all made my stomach tighten and my pulse spike.
I wanted it.
I hated that I wanted it.
Liora approached, her face pale but determined. "Jaxon… are you okay?"
I blinked, focusing on her. The predator snarled, impatient, but I forced it down. "We're safe… for now," I said.
Her eyes searched mine, desperate, almost pleading. Don't lose yourself, they seemed to say. I wanted to believe I could cling to the man she thought I was. But the hunger tugged insistently, whispering that control was temporary. The line between restraint and indulgence was thinner than she could imagine.
The man we had saved trembled, voice shaking. "I… I don't know how to thank you."
"You don't need to," I muttered. "Just survive."
Even as I spoke, I felt the cost. Mercy and survival were no longer simple. Every act of control, every choice to hold back, left a residue inside me—an ache, a longing, a whisper of what could be gained if I surrendered.
The rest of the day passed in tense, fragile quiet. We scavenged for food and supplies, avoided wandering dead, and tried to rest. Sleep evaded me. Every quiet moment allowed the whispers of the souls within me to grow, tracing their threads through my mind, reminding me of the cost of power and the price of restraint.
I found a quiet corner on the roof, away from Liora and the man, and closed my eyes. The whispering grew louder, vivid. Flashes of memories from the souls I had consumed—laughter, sorrow, fleeting moments—flickered in my mind like broken film. I understood now that every soul taken left a mark, a fracture in my humanity.
The stranger watched, I knew it. Calculating, measuring, waiting for the moment when I might falter.
Liora's voice broke through the haze. "Jaxon… you're scaring me. I can feel it… inside you."
I shook my head, trying to push the hunger's whispers away. "I'm still me," I said, though the truth tasted bitter. "I just… need to learn control. That's all."
Her gaze searched mine, desperate for reassurance, for the man she believed I was. I wanted to give it to her. But the hunger wouldn't let me. The predator pulsed inside me, a dark, alluring force whispering that restraint was temporary.
Tomorrow, the city would demand more. The dead would rise again. The hunger would not wait.
I touched the shard at my side, feeling the pulse of the souls I had taken. Warmth. Power. Danger. And the weight of it pressed down like both promise and curse.
I had survived another day. I had saved a life. But the cost was already pressing against me—a little less mercy, a little less humanity, a little closer to the predator I was destined to become.
And the questions remained, unspoken but relentless:
How far would I go to survive?
How far would I go to protect her?
At what cost to myself… and the world?
The hunger whispered.
And I would listen.
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