Chapter 4
The hospital had become our cage. Broken walls, shattered glass, the stench of rot, and the constant, low groan of the city outside—it pressed in on us from all sides. I could feel the dead moving beyond the crumbling windows, their eyes faintly glowing in the dark, reflecting the cursed light that still clung to this world.
Liora sat on a toppled chair in what used to be the nurses' station, her fingers entwined tightly in her lap. Her eyes darted to every flicker of movement, every shadow that shifted. I could see it in her face—the fear, the exhaustion, the small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could survive this night.
I couldn't allow myself the luxury of hope.
The hunger whispered again, soft but insistent, tugging at the edges of my mind. They are yours. Take them. Become.
I clenched my fists, letting the faint glow of the souls inside me flare just slightly beneath my skin. The sensation was addictive, like fire running through my veins. The first taste had been intoxicating. The second, even stronger. And now, as the whisper grew louder, I felt the pull of the power urging me forward, demanding it be fed.
"We need to move," I said, voice low. "There's a stairwell at the end of this hallway. We can barricade it, maybe get to the roof, see what's left of the city."
Liora hesitated, shaking her head. "I… I can't keep running forever, Jaxon. I'm not strong. I… I don't have your…" Her words faltered. "…whatever that is."
I glanced at her, feeling the strange ache in my chest. Her fragility, her humanity, it burned in me. I hated that I needed it. Hated that I depended on her survival to keep myself anchored.
"Strength isn't everything," I said finally. "Right now… survival is enough."
We moved through the corridors carefully, the light flickering as we passed, casting shadows that danced across the walls. Every shadow could be a corpse. Every sound could be the groan of the dead—or worse, a human driven mad by hunger.
I paused near a broken window. Outside, the city stretched like a corpse frozen in time. Twisted buildings, skeletal streetlights, overturned vehicles, and drifting ash. The sun—or what was left of it—had vanished behind clouds of smoke and ruin, leaving only the bruised twilight that swallowed the world whole.
"Do you see that?" Liora whispered.
I followed her gaze. Across the street, in the skeletal remains of a burned-out apartment building, a faint flicker of blue light pulsed. The glow wasn't like the dead I'd fought. It was… alive. Focused. Waiting.
I felt the hunger stir, sharper now. The souls inside me vibrated in response, thrumming against my bones. I could reach them. Take them. Become stronger. And yet… I hesitated.
"Jaxon…" Liora said, her voice almost breaking. "…what is it?"
Before I could answer, the figure stepped into the dim light of the street below. Tall. Calm. Commanding. Human, but not human. He moved with the fluidity of someone who had mastered something I barely understood.
The stranger.
I felt my stomach twist. The tug beneath my skin became a roar. My heart pounded in sync with the souls' whispers. Take. Feed. Become.
"Not now," I muttered under my breath.
Liora's hand squeezed mine. "Who is he?"
I didn't answer. I only knew one thing: he wasn't here for her. He was here for me.
The blue light pulsed again, flickering like a heartbeat. It wasn't a soul like the others I had devoured. It was something stronger, older, dangerous. The stranger held a shard in his hand—one that shimmered with that same eerie energy.
"You're testing yourself," he said, his voice carrying across the street without moving his lips. "I can see it. The hunger grows. The power you hold is untrained, untamed. You think you control it. But it controls you."
I felt it—the tug, the pull, the seductive promise of what I could become. Faster. Stronger. Untouchable. And the cost… the cost clawed at me, whispering that each step toward power made me less human, less capable of mercy, less capable of love.
"Stay back," I shouted, raising my shard. "We're leaving."
He laughed softly. It wasn't cruel, not exactly. It was cold. Measured. Certain. "Leaving doesn't matter. You've already begun. The hunger chose you. And soon, you'll understand. Nothing survives the hunger—not even you, not even her, not even what's left of this city."
I swallowed hard. My chest tightened. The pull of the souls inside me burned hotter than fire. I could feel every muscle in my body tense, every nerve screaming. I could jump, strike, destroy… and feed. Become more. Become unstoppable.
But I resisted.
For Liora.
For the tiny spark of humanity left in me.
"Come on," I whispered, grabbing her hand. We moved down the corridor, trying to stay out of sight. The stranger didn't follow. Not yet. But I could feel his gaze, like ice pressing against my spine, following every step.
We reached the stairwell. Broken, rusted steps groaned under our weight. I led Liora up, each step careful, calculated. Above, the roof promised a vantage point—safety, if only for a few minutes.
When we stepped onto the roof, the city stretched beneath us. Smoke curled from burning buildings, ash drifted lazily across the streets, and the dead moved like waves, scattered but relentless. Their dim, glowing eyes swept the city, searching for prey.
Liora crouched behind the low wall, trembling. "We… we can't survive out here forever," she whispered.
"We'll survive tonight," I said. My voice was calm, but inside, the hunger clawed. Take. Feed. Become.
I let it flare slightly, a pulse of energy rippling beneath my skin. The air shimmered faintly around my hands. A soft glow appeared in the distance—one of the dead, creeping toward us. Its eyes flared pale blue. I reached out. The whisper came again, stronger. It is yours.
I hesitated.
And then I did something I hadn't dared before.
I focused. The shard in my hand pulsed in rhythm with the souls inside me. The dead froze, a flicker of hesitation in its movements. I extended my hand—and the soul within it leapt to me like a spark catching fire. I absorbed it. The rush hit me instantly: sharper, faster, more intoxicating than before.
The tug at my mind screamed. My hands shook. My vision blurred. The city seemed to split between light and shadow, humanity and corruption. I had become something else. Something stronger. Something terrifying.
The dead behind it froze, then scattered, as if sensing the change in me.
Liora's eyes were wide. "Jaxon… what did you—"
I didn't answer. Not yet. I only knew the cost. The power burned, insistent, whispering that this was just the beginning.
From the shadows of the opposite building, I saw movement—a figure watching, waiting, measuring. The stranger. He didn't step forward. He didn't speak. Just observed.
And I knew, with a certainty that chilled me, that he would not leave me alone.
The hunger pulsed beneath my skin. My heart beat in time with it.
I had survived the first night. I had resisted the first real temptation.
But the city, the dead, and the stranger were only the beginning.
The hunger would grow.
And I… I would listen.
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Chapter 4 expands the stakes:
Jaxon tests his power consciously for the first time.
The antagonist observes and manipulates from the shadows.
Liora continues to humanize him, grounding his morality.
The hunger escalates, foreshadowing moral and physical trials ahead.
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