Chapter 3
The hospital smelled of rot and burnt plastic, an acrid perfume that clung to my clothes and skin. Ash drifted in the flickering red glow of the emergency exit signs, landing on broken tiles and twisted metal like snow from a world that had long died.
I led Liora through the ruined corridors, her hand gripping mine so tightly it hurt. Her nails dug into my palm with every step. I didn't speak; the silence was heavy, broken only by the distant groan of metal bending under unseen weight, and the faint, dragging shuffle of bodies somewhere far away.
The hunger inside me stirred. The souls I had consumed whispered from beneath my skin, faint voices like wind in a hollow cage. They are yours. You could take them. You would be unstoppable.
I clenched my teeth. Not now. Not while Liora lived.
The girl—finally a name I could attach to someone human—crouched beside a toppled desk in what had once been the reception area. She hugged her knees, shivering even though the air was stifling.
"Jaxon…" she whispered, voice trembling. "I… I don't understand. How—how did you do that?"
I looked at her, my eyes glowing faintly in the flickering light, the pulse of power just beneath my skin. "I don't know," I admitted. "Something woke inside me when I… when I swallowed the first soul. And now it's awake. It wants more."
Her lips parted, a gasp catching in her throat. "More? Jaxon… that's… that's not normal."
"It's normal for this world," I said softly. My voice sounded alien even to me, harsh, roughened by something I didn't yet understand. "Not for people like you. Not for anyone left alive."
She didn't respond. Her hand stayed in mine, holding on like a lifeline. Together, we moved deeper into the hospital, through hallways strewn with overturned gurneys, shattered glass, and blood that had long since congealed. Broken stretchers leaned against walls, and I could see faint, gray shapes moving beyond them.
The dead.
Always the dead.
Even here, in this place that should have offered refuge, they lurked. But I could see them before they saw us. The souls still whispered to me, faint, insistent. They are yours. They are weak. You could end them.
I forced myself to ignore them. Not yet.
We reached the stairwell. Rusted steps groaned under our weight. Liora pressed close, whispering, "I—I don't think I can do this, Jaxon. I… I can barely even breathe without feeling like my chest will break."
"You can," I said, voice low but steady. "You have to. There's no other choice."
Her head dropped, and she nodded, trusting me in a way that made my chest ache. I hated it. Hated the fact that she depended on me. Hated the fact that I depended on the power whispering beneath my skin even more.
The stairwell led us to a second-floor corridor. Operating rooms stretched off to the side, doors hanging open, some shattered. Equipment lay strewn across the floors, tubing dangling like the limbs of dead creatures. I scanned the shadows, searching for movement. Every instinct told me something was watching.
I was right.
A soft, deliberate clap echoed through the hall. Slow. Calculated.
I froze.
Liora stiffened.
"Jaxon," a voice said. Smooth, cold, almost mocking. "You've survived your first night. I'm impressed."
I didn't need to see him. The hum inside me told me everything. He had come.
The stranger. The one who called himself a teacher—or a watcher.
"I don't know what you want," I said, raising the shard of metal I still carried. My hands trembled slightly, but I kept them steady. "Why are you here?"
"To see if you understand," he said, stepping from the shadows into the weak red light. His presence warped the air, like heat bending in waves, though it was cold, sharper than any winter wind. Shadows clung to him like smoke, coiling around his form. In his hand, the shard pulsed softly, bright, alive, a fragment of stolen power. "The hunger you've awakened isn't just strength. It's a test. And tests… have consequences."
I swallowed. "I survived. That should be enough."
He tilted his head, eyes faintly glowing, unreadable. "Survival is the first lesson. Control is the second. And the third… surrender."
Surrender. The word pressed against my chest. Not the hunger. Not yet. Him. Maybe both.
Liora's voice broke through the tension. "Jaxon… what does he mean?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that left frost in your blood. "Do not worry about her. Not tonight. Keep her alive. Learn what your hunger wants. And when you can no longer resist…"
He lifted the shard, pulsing softly in the dim light. It seemed to throb like a heartbeat. "…come find me before it consumes you."
Then he was gone, swallowed by shadows so deep they seemed to erase the walls around him.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the air outside. The whispers in my veins hissed, clawing at my mind, demanding. I pressed my hands to my chest, feeling the faint glow of the souls lingering inside me, their warmth both intoxicating and terrifying.
Liora crouched beside me, voice trembling. "What… what was that?"
I shook my head, the words failing me. "A warning," I said finally. "And… a promise."
Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time no longer had meaning. The dead didn't follow a clock. They moved on instinct, on hunger, on whatever traces of life they could sense. I tried to quiet the tugging beneath my skin, tried to remind myself of the cost. Every time I resisted, it felt like my muscles were screaming, like my bones ached for the warmth of a soul.
But I resisted. For her.
For Liora.
She finally spoke again, voice soft, almost trembling. "I… I can't imagine what it's like. But whatever it is… we'll face it together, right?"
The word hit me like a punch. Together. Fragile. Human. And it made me almost forget the tugging, almost forget the pull of the souls inside me.
"Together," I said, low, and meant it. For now.
Because I knew it wouldn't last.
The hunger wouldn't wait.
The stranger wouldn't wait.
And outside, beyond these crumbling walls, the dead were never still.
We moved deeper into the hospital, scavenging what we could—rusted metal, broken syringes, anything to defend ourselves. The corridors seemed endless, and every shadow felt alive. Every corner might hide death.
I felt the whisper beneath my ribs again. Stronger. Louder. Insistent. They are yours. Take them. Become.
I pressed my palm to my chest, forcing the voice to fade. Not yet. Not now. I had a girl to protect. I had a name. Something human left to hold onto.
I swallowed, tasting the lingering flavor of the first soul like bitter wine. And I knew, without a doubt, that my first victory had not been the killing, or the escape, or even the rescue of Liora.
It had been surviving myself.
The hunger had been held at bay.
For now.
But soon… it would not wait.
And neither would he.
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