Page 19 of Marked By His Hunger

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I never used them.

Sleep is a rare mercy—and when it comes, it brings teeth.

The tower suits me better.

Isolated.

Unforgiving.

Honest.

I step onto the narrow balcony, the night opening around me in a violent expanse of storm and sea.

Below, black waves crash against jagged cliffs.

Above, auroras twist across the sky like veins of living light.

I inhale deeply.

Salt.

Rain.

Stone.

And beneath it all—blood.

The hunger rises.

Sudden.

Violent.

I double forward, claws digging into ancient stone as the need claws its way up my throat.

Feed.

Take.

Destroy.

“No.”

The word tears free, raw and guttural.

I will not kneel to it.

I will not surrender.

“I am the Draugr,” I growl into the storm. “I am death.”

The wind devours the sound.

Carries it away.

As it always does.

Because no matter how loudly I declare it…

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