Elias didn't remember walking home.
One moment he was in the forest, staring at the lifeless boar at his feet. The next, he was stumbling through the Thorn family's crooked wooden door, mud on his boots and a tremor in his hands.
His mother looked up from the hearth. "Elias? You're pale. What happened?"
He opened his mouth but the truth lodged in his throat like a stone. How could he explain the voice, the serpent, the devouring? How could he admit he felt… stronger?
"I just got lost," he muttered.
She frowned, but didn't push. She never did. The Thorn family had long grown used to disappointment.
That night, Elias lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His veins pulsed with a faint glow only he could see. His senses were sharper. His body felt coiled, ready.
And the hunger gnawed at him.
"You must feed," the voice whispered from somewhere deep within. "Or you will wither."
Elias pressed his palms to his ears, but it didn't help. The voice wasn't sound. It was instinct.
He tried to sleep.
He failed.
By dawn, he was shaking.
He slipped out of the house before sunrise and returned to the forest. The world felt different now — every heartbeat of every creature echoed faintly in his mind. He could sense life like warmth in the cold.
A rabbit darted through the underbrush.
Elias didn't want to kill it.
But the hunger surged, drowning out thought.
He lunged.
The rabbit never had a chance.
Warmth flooded him again — weaker than the boar, but enough to quiet the gnawing ache. Enough to make the glow in his veins pulse brighter.
Elias fell to his knees, panting.
"What am I becoming?"
The voice answered with a purr of satisfaction.
"What you were always meant to be."