It was what we did.
Amara and I would tend his wounds when his father’s temper struck him. And in return, he fed me.
Back then, it had felt like a balance—fragile but whole.
Now, sitting in this pit—my stomach shrunken, my thoughts fraying—I wondered if that bond between us was already gone.
“Poor little Lazarus…”
The voice slithered through the dark like a serpent made of smoke—silken, venomous, poisonous. It didn’t echo. It breathed straight into my ear, damp and hateful.
Severen.
“You always knew your mother sold herself,” he whispered, each word soft but molding at the edges. “You just never knew to whom.”
My stomach turned over as if it meant to crawl out of me. I pressed my palms to my ears, digging my nails into my skin, as if I could crush the voice between them.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
But nothing stopped Severen. He wasinsidemy head.
I blinked—once—and the world warped.
The cavern melted into a pit of decay. Men sprawled around me, their eyes rolled white, their spines bent at impossible angles. Some twitched like animals caught in snares; others were already still; mouths open to the dark. The stench of blood and rot thickened until it coated my tongue.
Their groans were wet, bubbling, the sound of flesh choking on its own blood.
And there—moving among them like a phantom—was Salvatore.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t touch them.
He only paced, slow and deliberate, like a lion waiting for the weakest to twitch.
And I—I was the only one who heard the monster.
“You want the truth?” Severen’s tone turned syrup-smooth and sickly sweet. “Salvatore lost his purity to your mother. She was well known, remember? He paid for her like the rest. He took what the others took.”
My lungs refused to work. My vision burned. “No…” I whispered, curling into myself. “He wouldn’t.”
“He’ll feast on you before this trial ends,” Severen murmured, amusement slick in his voice.
“No,” I rasped, throat raw. “He would never.”
“You think he’s loyal?” the voice spat. “You think he cares for you? He’s a butcher, Lazarus. A taker. He devours everything he touches.”
His laughter crawled under my skin. It wasn’t in my ear anymore—it was under my tongue. I could taste it.
I forced my head up.
Across the pit, Salvatore stood motionless. His face was carved from shadow, unreadable, his eyes catching the faintest light.
For one heartbeat, I didn’t know which was worse—the voice whispering in my skull, or the silence coming from him.
My breath came shallow and ragged, the air thick enough to chew. The hunger clawed inside me, whispering now in Severen’s voice, blending with my own thoughts until I couldn’t tell them apart.
And somewhere deep down, beneath the noise and the fear, a single thought surfaced—cold and trembling.
