The hunger returned on Sunday, but it was a different beast than the mana-starved void of before. This was a roaring, physical furnace that demanded fuel—constant, massive, caloric fuel.
Astraea woke with her stomach clenched into a painful knot. It wasn't the deep cosmic ache of her core; this was raw, biological need. Her cells, once dormant, were now firing at dragon-level activity. Bone density was increasing hourly. Muscle fibers were thickening. The new teeth required mineral integration. The wing buds were voracious consumers of protein and complex mana-lipids.
The numbers were staggering. A human child her apparent age needed maybe 2,000 calories. She needed the caloric intake of an Olympic athlete in peak training. Daily.
Breakfast was a revelation of insufficiency. Mrs. Evans, bless her, made a large Sunday spread: pancakes, bacon, eggs, orange juice. Astraea ate two helpings of everything, clearing her plate with a speed that made Mrs. Evans blink.
"Someone's hungry!" she laughed, refilling the pancake plate. "Growing girls need their fuel!"
Astraea managed a smile around a mouthful of bacon. The food helped, a little. It banked the immediate fire, but she could feel the energy being sucked into her system almost instantly, converted to bone mass and muscle fiber with terrifying efficiency. An hour after breakfast, the gnawing emptiness was back.
She spent the morning in a state of distracted hunger, her thoughts constantly circling back to food. She read a book without absorbing a word. She tried to draw, but her hands felt weak, shaky. The glamour on her teeth consumed a tiny trickle of mana, and even that felt like a wasteful luxury.
By lunch, she was ravenous. Mrs. Evans served hearty vegetable soup and thick sandwiches. Astraea ate three bowls of soup and two sandwiches, then finished the bread from the basket. Mrs. Evans' smile became slightly fixed.
"You'll burst, sweetie," she said gently, but her eyes held a flicker of concern. "That's more than your dad eats after a day on the construction site."
"Sorry," Astraea mumbled, her cheeks flushing. "I just... I'm really hungry today."
It wasn't just today. She knew it. This was her new normal.
The afternoon was a battle. She rummaged in the kitchen when Mrs. Evans was doing laundry, finding crackers, cheese, an apple. She ate them standing at the counter, barely tasting them. It was like throwing twigs on a bonfire.
When Mrs. Evans announced she was running to the grocery store, Astraea saw her chance. "Can I come? I could... help carry things."
The supermarket was a temple of potential energy. Astraea's dragon senses, usually tuned to mana, now screamed at the sheer density of calories packed into brightly colored boxes and chilled aisles. Her mouth watered at the smell from the bakery section. The protein in the meat department called to her like a siren song.
She guided the cart with single-minded purpose. "We're out of peanut butter," she said, loading in two large jars. "And granola bars. Leo says these ones are really good." She added two boxes. "And maybe some extra chicken? And nuts? For protein?" She sounded, even to herself, like a poorly programmed nutrition bot.
Mrs. Evans looked at the growing pile in the cart, then at Astraea's too-bright eyes. The concern deepened, but it was tempered by her fundamental kindness. "Alright," she said slowly. "But let's get some fruits and vegetables too. Balance."
Astraea nodded eagerly, adding bananas, a bag of oranges, and a family-sized bag of baby carrots she had no intention of eating slowly. Vegetables were fiber and vitamins, but they were low-energy. She needed density. Fat. Protein. Carbs.
At the checkout, the bill was significantly higher than usual. Mrs. Evans didn't comment, but Astraea saw her checking the receipt twice, her brow furrowed.
The hunger was a tangible thing that night, a companion at the dinner table. She ate four pieces of pizza, a large salad, two helpings of garlic bread, and then finished the leftover pasta from lunch. Mrs. Evans watched, silent.
"Astraea," she said finally, as Astraea was washing her third plate. "This... isn't normal hunger. Are you feeling okay? Really?"
The question was gentle, but it carried the weight of medical concern. Astraea turned, her hands wet and soapy. She saw the worry in Mrs. Evans' eyes—the foster mother who had taken in a strange, quiet girl and was now watching her consume enough for three grown men.
"I feel... empty," Astraea said, which was true. "All the time. Like my body is a hole." Also true.
"Maybe we should see Dr. Evans," Mrs. Evans said, using the title for her friend, the pediatrician. "Just for a check-up. Rapid growth can sometimes... cause imbalances."
A check-up. With scans. With blood tests. A doctor would see cellular activity that defied human biology. They would see bone density readings off the charts. They would see something.
Panic, cold and sharp, cut through the hunger fog. "No," she said, too quickly. "I mean... it's probably just a phase. You said it yourself—growing pains."
"Eating this much isn't a pain, sweetie. It's a symptom."
"Please," Astraea said, and let her voice tremble, just a little. Let the child show through. "Can we wait? Just a week? If it doesn't get better, I'll go. I promise."
Mrs. Evans studied her face, the conflict clear in her own. Protectiveness versus respect. Medical caution versus a child's plea. Finally, she sighed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Astraea's forehead. "One week. And you tell me immediately if you feel dizzy, or weak, or anything strange. Deal?"
"Deal," Astraea whispered, relief making her knees weak.
But the relief was short-lived. The hunger didn't care about promises or deadlines. It was a biological imperative. That night, after Mrs. Evans went to bed, Astraea crept back to the kitchen. She ate the rest of the chicken, cold from the fridge. She ate a block of cheese. She ate a loaf of bread, slice by slice, standing in the dark.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough with human food alone. Her body needed mana-saturated materials, magical biomass. Things that didn't exist in a supermarket.
She was trying to power a starship with cooking oil.
Back in her room, her stomach still growling despite the sheer volume of food inside it, she made a plan. She needed a new source. The gates provided pure mana, which fed her core and magical development, but her physical body needed more. It needed substance.
Her eyes fell on her scale, gleaming softly in the moonlight. Dragons of her kind were omnivorous, true, but their historic diet... Her memory supplied images: great, shimmering fish from mountain lakes that glowed with inner light; herd beasts that grazed on mana-rich grasses; even, in lean times, certain types of stone that held geothermal energy.
None of which were available in the city.
But maybe... maybe she didn't need the whole beast. Maybe she could find the essence. Mana-infused plants. Concentrated mineral deposits. There were places in the city, she knew from her online map studies. The botanical gardens had a section for Awakened flora. The natural history museum had a geology wing with rare crystals.
It was risky. But so was starving, or being taken for medical tests.
[System notification!]
[Quest updated: 'Time to eat!']
[Objective: Consume 50,000 calories in 24 hours! (That's a lot of sandwiches!)]
[Reward: 'Bottomless pit' Title, +10 to Appetite stat]
[Warning: Trying to eat this much may make your tummy hurt! Ask a grown-up for help!]
The System's cheerful idiocy was almost comforting in its consistency. Astraea looked at the quest, then at her hands, which still trembled slightly with unmet need.
The fire in her gut had two fuels now: one for magic, one for matter. Both furnaces roared, empty and impatient. The hunt for something real to chew on was no longer a luxury; it was a countdown to exposure.