Together, we killed the monsters. The wicked. The unwanted.
And yet the truth remained—if we didn’t consume souls, we would wither and die.
So, we kept killing.
Because we had to.
It was a harsh lesson—one I learned the moment I first regained consciousness as a young man, my naked body adrift in the unforgiving ocean. My mind was a blank slate, stripped of all memory save for a single word echoing through the void—Balthazar.
Confused. Desperate. Starving.
I dragged myself onto the jagged shore, driven by instinct and the gnawing ache of something deeper than hunger. It was then that I uncovered the truth of what I was—not a man, not fully—but a predator—a creature born to inhale souls, cursed to crave the essence of the dead.
No food could satisfy me. No meat, no fruit, no drink. Not even the blood of beasts. Only the souls of humans could silence the ravenous void inside me.
And now, with Zara beside me and five daughters whose laughter gave me light, the truth had only grown heavier.
If we died, there would be no one left to protect them. There was no one to explain the blades that hung from their necks. No one to shield them from the monsters of the world—or from what they might become.
So, I continued to kill because I had no choice.
Because my daughters meant everything to me.
Because love, for a creature like me, was forged in blood.
Weeks passed before I was summoned for another raid. The visions of darkness and impending doom that once haunted me had faded, dismissed as lingering echoes from our last brutal encounter with the Timehunters.
“Please… let me come with you,” Zara pleaded.
I looked up, surprised. She stood before me in the front room, clutching my tunic while I crouched near the fire, sharpening my weapons. The rhythmic scrape of stone on steel ceased.
I arched a brow, wrapping fresh leather around the hilt of my battle ax, careful not to cover the protective runes I had branded into the wood. They were more than symbols. They were prayers carved in pain.
“No.” I hefted the ax, testing the grip with practiced precision. It felt right in my hand—balanced, deadly. Ready to cut down armies.
“Please, my love.” Her voice faltered as she gripped my arm more tightly. Tears welled in her eyes. “We’ve grown so close these past weeks. Please… let me come. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to loseyou.”
I met her strong gaze and took her hand in mine. I brought her trembling fingers to my lips and kissed them softly.
“Our bond is unbreakable,” I whispered, my voice low with conviction. “You’ll never have to fear losing me. Not truly.”
Still, she trembled.
I rose and pulled her closer, pressing my lips to hers—softly at first, then with deepening urgency. I kissed her until her body melted into mine, until her trembling ceased, and her breaths came deeper. I poured everything I felt into her—love, devotion, the ache of knowing I had to leave her behind.
Only when our energies were aligned, connected like threads in a single weave, did I pull away.
“Are you feeling better now?” I murmured, brushing a thumb along her cheek.
“A little,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed, eyes shining.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” I promised.
But she shook her head, the firelight dancing in her golden hair.
“I can’t keep living like this,” she whispered. “You leave for weeks—sometimes months—and I’m alone, carrying on witheverything by myself. Wemustfind out who we are… and why we were made this way. We need toknow.”
Zara gripped my tunic fiercely, her nails biting into the fabric. “We can’t stay here and pretend everything is fine,” she hissed, sounding desperate. “Our children deserve the truth.Wedeserve the truth. We must find out who we are—before it’s too late.”
