Page 8 of Marked By His Hunger

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Because some things are beyond salvation.

Some creatures are born to be the nightmare—not the man who escapes it.

Still… that doesn’t stop the wanting.

I reach for the dagger resting beside the contract.

Cold steel. Familiar.

Reliable.

Unlike me.

Without hesitation, I drag the blade across my palm.

The pain is brief.

Insignificant.

Blood wells instantly—dark, thick, wrong.

The runes on the parchment flare to life as it falls, drinking it in like a starving thing.

Fitting.

I press my hand to the page and sign my name.

A mark of ruin.

A promise I cannot break.

The magic seals with a pulse that echoes through the room—and through me.

Binding.

Final.

Kenna inclines her head slightly.

“It is done.”

I withdraw my hand, watching as the wound slowly closes, as if even my body refuses to let me forget what I am.

What I always will be.

I turn toward the window one last time.

Toward that distant, unreachable world.

Toward the life that will never be mine.

And yet…

I will still watch.

Still wait.

Still hunger.

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