Hunger, Hatred, and the King of Shadows
The night pressed its suffocating darkness through the towering pines, the wind's low moan striking the needles like a broken, mournful melody. Above, the moon was nothing more than a thin, silver crescent; its pale light barely brushed the forest floor, leaving me in a world of shifting shadows. Inside me, something sparked—a volatile mixture of rage, grief, and a hollow, aching void. I couldn't tell where the pain ended and the anger began.
"How will I kill them… damn it all," I muttered to the darkness, my voice sounding like a funeral prayer whispered over an open grave. My fists clenched so tight that my nails bit into my palms, drawing blood. In my mind's eye, every flicker of light from the village windows was a stain of my mother's blood. "Rot in hell, you monsters… people of the village… just wait. I'll burn your homes to ash until nothing but silence remains!"
The shout dissolved into the night, but the fire in my ribs only grew.
Suddenly, my stomach twisted with a primal, humiliating hunger. It was animalistic, a gnawing beast that didn't care about my grief. "Curse it… curse it all," I spat. The hunger and the hatred were tearing at me simultaneously, competing for control of my broken body.
"Mother… Father… they're gone. It can't be… what am I supposed to do?" Their names fell from my lips like heavy stones dropped into a well. "Mom… I miss you… Dad…" Each word scattered into the cold air, unanswered.
"WHY?! Why, damn you!?" I screamed at the sky, my eyes burning. "God… why did you make me like this?! Damn you! Because of you… because of this curse… they are dead!" My hatred spread through my veins like a slow-acting poison, turning my blood cold.
A restless dark circled my vision. Then, my stomach clenched with a sound so sharp it felt like something inside me was screaming for life. I dropped to my knees, burying my hands into the damp earth. Every breath I took seemed to magnify the ache.
Rustle.
A faint sound came from the brambles. Something was moving. A chicken—a fragile, clucking creature lost in the bushes. Even with my sight dimmed by tears and exhaustion, I moved. My movements felt ritualistic, driven by an instinct I didn't know I possessed. I closed in, a shadow among shadows.
I reached out with shaking hands and caught the bird. My heart hammered with a primitive mix of relief and crushing shame. "Use a stone… do it now! DAMN IT!" a raspy voice commanded from my own throat. I found a heavy stone and struck with a hard, desperate arc.
The sound of the impact cracked something inside me. Warm blood slicked my fingers, and for a fleeting moment, a bitter disgust washed over me. "Good… now eat. Gross, but… survive," I whispered with a twisted, bitter grin.
With every raw, metallic bite I swallowed, my mother's voice returned to me: "Riven, eat; you must keep your strength." I could almost feel her touch on my hair, hear her soft laughter. Those memories lodged in my chest like rusted nails. "I miss her…" I murmured, my tears soaking the soil as I curled into a ball. A burning shame for staying alive warred with a sharpening, lethal purpose for revenge.
I lay on the cold earth, surrounded by the scent of pine and damp rot, shivering as a heavy, drowsy sleep began to take hold. "Revenge… I must live for revenge," I repeated like a mantra until my mind opened to a dark, beckoning unknown.
Then, the world went white.
THE DREAM BEGINS
Everything was a void of pure white—no edges, no shadows, no air. The silence was so thick it rang in my ears like a physical weight. Then, a voice, distant yet crystalline, pierced the emptiness:
"DO YOU DESIRE VENGEANCE?"
I spun around, but there was nothing. "Who are you!?" I shouted, my voice flat and echo-less.
The voice drew closer, carrying a cold, mocking smile. "I am… the Demon King."
"What?! N-no… why are you in my dream!?"
"Your thirst for revenge called to me, Riven. It is a delicious cry."
"How do you know my name!?" I cried, but the answer was a low murmur that made my skin crawl.
Then, my eye—AHH! MY EYE!! It felt as if my left eye was being torn open from the inside by a white-hot blade. The pain was so agonizing I dropped to my knees, clutching my face. "Sorry… I suppose it is a bit early," the voice cooed mockingly as I writhed in the void.
The Demon's voice curled around me like freezing smoke: "This… is only the beginning."
I snapped awake on the cold forest floor, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The weight of the dream still pressed on my chest. "What… was that? Damn it…" I breathed, caught between a paralyzing fear and a dangerous curiosity.
The burning in my eye remained—raw, insistent, and powerful. My curse had awakened, and there was no going back.