Nothingness.
Then, a vibration.
A dull, distant echo, rippling through a warm and familiar liquid.
Diffuse glimmers, sourceless, dance upon a smooth, curved wall that marks the edge of the world.
A gentle, constant pressure.
A closed universe, silent, unchanging.
Suddenly, a void.
An endless fall. The world tilts, the glimmers flaring in a silent panic.
The vibration becomes a mute scream.
A brutal shock.
Deafening.
The wall cracks.
Stars of frost spreading, crackling.
Then, the familiar prison explodes into a thousand shards.
A torrent of assaults overwhelms all.
THE COLD.
An icy bite on skin that has never known anything.
THE AIR.
A scent of damp stone, of musty earth, of... death.
THE SOUNDS.
A distant hiss, a sinister dripping, and the crackle of the last fragments of the prison dying out on the ground.
The vulnerability is total.
Every fiber of this new existence trembles, coiled on the rough stone.
A formless thing, naked, thrown into a hostile world.
An immense shadow blocks the faint light filtering from above.
Heavy steps that make the ground tremble.
A hoarse breath, a low rumble that resonates through its entire body.
The shadow approaches.
It is a mountain of gray fur advancing.
Eyes that shine in the dark, two embers of pure hunger.
A putrid heat descends, accompanied by a smell of dried blood and carrion.
The creature lowers its head, its muzzle sniffing the air, then the ground, then... the thing.
The maw opens.
A tunnel of fangs as sharp as daggers of glass.
The shadow lunges.
The pain is a flash.
A tearing sensation.
Then, darkness.
But the darkness is not empty. It is warm.
Alive. A dull, powerful beat envelops it.
The cold has vanished, replaced by a new warmth.
An energy that flows in, that is drawn, siphoned.
The pain fades, replaced by a pulse that grows, that strengthens.
The other's strength becomes its strength.
Outside, the beast's growls become confused whimpers.
The mountain of fur trembles, convulses.
The flesh liquefies.
The bones crack and dissolve, not digested, but... assimilated.
The carnage melts, evaporates, leaving only a viscous puddle on the cold stone of the dungeon.
And in the middle, a form.
Larger than before. Stronger.
A skin that no longer truly fears the cold.
Eyes that open to the darkness, no longer with fear, but with a new glimmer.
And for the first time, a clear, unique, imperious sensation.
Hunger.
Not of the stomach. A hunger for existence. A hunger for energy.
A hunger for... more.