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I rush through the forests, devouring beast after beast. My appetite feels insatiable to me, with every bite only driving me further toward a different kind of hunger. I know there will come a point when my mission feels ready for my taking, and I can again feed on the corrupt dreams and deeds of sentient mortals, but that time isn’t now. First, I must feast.
The dripir are saltier than I remember, but their dryness is pleasing to my tongue, and eating them almost invokes feelings of nostalgia. I find them scattered through the forests, spread around by the coming storms.
Eating through the coats of thistle has become difficult, and though their meat is quite savory, I resolve to leave them for less selective predators.
The villages and settlements linger on the horizon, enticing me with their darkness. Soon, I will join them, to rid them of their infections and satisfy the deeper hunger within me. Just as I can hear the screams of the persecutors, whose souls are tar black, I can feel the pleas of the oppressed who think their wishes go unheard.
But there’s something inexplicable that burns deep within me. It’s not a hunger for flesh or darkness. I can’t satisfy it by filling my stomach or devouring the wicked. I’m not sure what will satisfy this intangible craving.
For now, I prowl through the forest, filling this body with everything I can find and stalking the beasts that will enable my purpose. The chilly evening air breathes lightly on me, reassuring me of my mission while hardening my resolve.
3
ANNETTE
“There has to be… something.”
I push aside a large leaf, then step through more branches, careful not to scratch myself or ruin my dress. As much as leaving home devastates me, at least I get to be in the forest again, walking beneath the trees and crawling through their prickly intersections.
This really takes me back to simpler times.
The forest is still and quiet around me. There’s an eerie tranquility to the scene that is chillingly beautiful. Pale moonlight pours down from overhead, and pavo birds fly erratically through the branches, chirping wildly.
But as I prowl onward, finally finding the first hints of a clearing, I realize that the pavos aren’t enjoying the splendor of the moonlit forest. If anything, they seem panicked. When the first scents of iron reach my nostrils, mixed with a foul smell unlike anything I’ve ever perceived, I realize that something must be very wrong.
At first, I tried subtle questions to try to confirm Mellara’s killer, using my skills of deception to try to weasel out an answer before I had to leave.
But an instinct led me into this forest, and because I felt like I was running out of solutions, I decided to follow that instinct.
And it seems, as I retch and try to prevent myself from heaving from the scent, that my instinct was right. What I smell is certainly blood, freshly spilled and mixed with some other agent.
My mind turns toward victory. It feels nearly within my grasp.
I imagine the council’s faces when I reveal their true killer. I imagine the satisfaction of knowing that I prevented more pointless deaths.
But it somehow feels too easy. I follow the smell as best I can, trying to settle the contents of my stomach. The smell feels deliberately repulsive, as though designed to ward off people like me. The closer I am to the smell’s source, the more difficult it becomes to focus.
The clearing opens further, and as I get a wider view of the forest when turning the corner, I see a trail of sleeping animals lying still under the moonlight. The strangest thing is that it’s not a uniform arrangement of creatures, so I know that I haven’t discovered a pack. Creatures that naturally prey on each other are all aligned following the trees and the natural features of the landscape.
Also, my steps are not terribly silent. I wonder why so many creatures haven’t been jostled awake by my approach.
I let my eyeline follow the path of creatures and realize that the creatures at the farthest end away from me are mangled beyond recognition.
Here, the creatures look at peace and could easily be sleeping, but several dozen feet away, I see guts splayed open and blood splatters on the forest soil. The beautiful tranquility of the evening light in the grove is almost an affront, betraying the violent acts I’m now seeing secondhand.
I need to run away. I argue with myself about why I don’t sprint in the opposite direction, accepting my exile and moving on. Whatever killed all these creatures is beyond my power or my understanding.
But then I remember the shame I experienced when I left Mellara, and my fists ball up until my knuckles are white.
I need to investigate this if I want any chance of regaining my life.
Taking several hesitant steps, I lean over the dae closest to me and begin to take a whiff.
My mouth and my stomach burn all at once. As I figured, this was the source of the smell and probably also what terrified the pavos.
My eyes watering, I reach my hand down to the ground, finding a single droplet of dae blood that I collect on my fingertip. Given that I don’t know what attacked these creatures, it could be very risky, but I don’t have much choice.
I bring it to the side of my nose, letting magical heat sear through my skin as two words escape my mouth, and the smell is gone.
