The hunger began as a low thrum, like a second heartbeat out of sync with the first. Astraea noticed it during morning circle time, as Teacher Milly led them in the "Sparkle Hello Song." The other children's voices rose in cheerful unison, their small lights flickering in time with the clapping. Astraea's three silver sparkles hovered dutifully above her palms, but her attention was elsewhere.
The numbers scrolled through her consciousness, clinical and alarming. Her body, after centuries of starvation, was finally awake and building at a furious pace. Wings, scales, bone growth, cellular repair—it all required fuel. And the discreet "snacks" she'd been taking from Gate Alpha-7 during CYAP visits were no longer enough.
"Wonderful sparkles, everyone!" Milly chirped as the song ended. "Now, who can tell me what friendly thing we do with our lights when we meet someone new?"
Chloe's hand shot up. "We make them sparkle-greet! Two little sparkles touching!"
"Exactly!" Milly beamed. "Today we're practicing Sparkle Greetings with our buddies!"
Astraea turned to Leo, who was examining his green finger with a frown. "It's not as bright today," he muttered. "Maybe I used it too much yesterday."
She held out her hands, palms up. Three silver sparkles appeared, hovering steadily despite the tremors she felt in her bones. Leo placed his glowing green finger between them, and their lights touched—a brief, gentle contact that should have felt like nothing.
To Astraea, it was a shock.
Leo's human mana, crude and unstructured as it was, carried a warmth she hadn't anticipated. Her dragon core, starved and efficient, instinctively tried to draw from it. She felt the pull—a vacuum opening in her chest—and yanked it back immediately. The sparkles flickered violently.
"Whoa," Leo said, pulling his finger back. "That felt… weird. Like you got cold for a second."
"Sorry," Astraea said, the word tasting like ash in her mouth. She'd almost stolen from her friend. From a child. The hunger was making her desperate.
[System notification!]
[Quest updated: 'Share your sparkles!']
[Objective: Complete ten friendly sparkle-greets today!]
[Reward: 'Social butterfly' Title, +5 to Friendship stat]
[Note: Sharing is caring! Your sparkles make others happy!]
The System's cheerful prompt felt like mockery. Sharing was the last thing her body wanted to do. It wanted to consume. To take. To fill the void left by four centuries of emptiness.
During juice break, the tremors worsened. Astraea's hands shook as she lifted her apple juice box. The simple cardboard container felt impossibly heavy. Across the table, Mia noticed.
"You're shaking, Raea. Are you cold?" Mia asked, her water orbs hovering protectively near her own juice.
"It's nothing," Astraea said, forcing her hands still through sheer will. "Just… growing pains."
But it wasn't nothing. The deficit was accumulating. She could feel it as a cold spot in her chest, a hollow that spread through her limbs. Her glamour, usually a seamless second skin, felt thin and strained. The scale on her arm burned with a cold fire, demanding fuel she didn't have.
She made the adjustments mentally, like closing valves in a complex system. The wing buds' development slowed from a hum to a murmur. The scale's burning sensation dulled to an ache. Her growth—the precious, hard-won growth after centuries—stalled entirely.
But the glamour held. That was non-negotiable. If that failed, everything failed.
By afternoon craft time, she was operating at minimal levels. Her movements were slow, deliberate. When Milly announced they'd be making "friendship bracelets with embedded sparkles," Astraea could only manage the most basic of weaves. Her usual geometric precision was gone, replaced by the wobbly, uneven work of an actual tired child.
"You're quiet today," Leo said as they worked side by side. He was creating a complex pattern of green and silver, his scientist's mind applying itself to string art. "And your sparkles during greetings… they felt different. Hungry."
The word hung between them. Astraea kept her eyes on her clumsy bracelet. "I didn't eat much breakfast."
"Here," Leo said, and to her shock, he broke off a piece of his granola bar—the one his mother packed every day because he had "high energy needs." He pushed it across the table. "My mom says protein helps."
The gesture was so small, so human, so kind that for a moment, Astraea's ancient heart forgot to ache. She took the granola piece. It would do nothing for her mana deficit, but it would do everything for Leo's perception.
"Thank you," she said, and meant it more than he could know.
[System notification!]
[Friendship milestone reached!]
[Buddy Leo shared his snack without being asked!]
[Reward: 'Good friend' recognition, +3 to Kindness stat]
[Note: Friends help each other grow!]
The System, for once, wasn't entirely wrong.
That evening, as Mrs. Evans made dinner ("Extra pasta tonight, you're a growing girl!"), Astraea stood in her room and assessed the damage. The day's deficit showed in her measurements.
Height: 2.7 cm cumulative. No change from yesterday. The first day without growth since the thaw began.
She touched the wall where her height marks recorded four centuries of patience finally ending. Now she was patient again, but for a different reason. Not because time was frozen, but because fuel was insufficient.
The solution was clear in her dragon mind, clinical and desperate: she needed more mana. Substantially more. The CYAP gate visits weren't enough anymore. She needed proper feeding. A real meal.
But gates were monitored. Controlled. The Association kept careful records of mana fluctuations. A sudden drain would be noticed.
Unless…
She looked out her window at the city lights. Somewhere out there were the small, utilitarian gates that kept the lights on, the mana flowing. Unremarkable. Unwatched.
Her stomach growled—not with human hunger, but with the deep, cosmic emptiness of a dragon core running on vapors.
"Dinner's ready, sweetie!" Mrs. Evans called.
Astraea turned from the window. Tomorrow was Saturday. No CYAP. No Teacher Milly watching. No children to perform for.
Tomorrow, she would have to hunt.
Tonight: pasta and pretense. Tomorrow: risk and revelation. The hunger had grown teeth, and they were pointing outward.