Page 39 of Marked By His Hunger
Below, she crossed the courtyard and disappeared beneath the towering doors of the Institute—carved obsidian etched with runes that flared as they admitted her.
The moment she passed through—the hunger snapped back.
Violent.
Unrelenting.
Pain lanced through my spine, arching my body as I gripped the stone hard enough to crack it, black ichor seeping from where my claws split against ancient rock.
“This is no coincidence,” I rasped.
The air had shifted—charged, aware.
Watching.
The storm wasn’t for the students.
It wasn’t for the term.
It was for this.
For her.
For me.
For what had just begun.
Pressure built at the base of my skull. The inheritance stirring. The curse tightening, inch by deliberate inch.
Advancing.
Accelerating.
The unseen crown lowering.
Too soon.
Too precise.
This was design.
I threw my head back and roared. Lightning answered. Thunder split the sky. Rain swallowed the sound.
But the hunger?
It didn’t fade.
It sharpened.
Changed.
No longer blind.
It reached.
For her.
Her presence sank into me—deeper than instinct, deeper than need.
