Chapter 16 · Prey No More

"You're not leaving this hole until you tell me what the hell you are," Lyra spat, her voice shaking despite the blade she had pressed against my chest.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My body was still half-liquid, a shifting mass of shadow and hunger that felt like it was vibrating at a frequency designed to shatter glass. I looked up at her, my eyes—if you could even call them that—glowing a dim, predatory violet.

"Get back," I rasped. The voice wasn't even mine. It was a wet, distorted echo, like two people speaking through a layer of sludge.

Lyra didn't flinch. She stepped closer, the tip of her dagger digging into the soft, amorphous part of my shoulder. "I've seen every class of monster in the Abyss. Mimics, void-stalkers, corrupted wraiths. None of them look like a puddle of ink that can talk. So, start talking. Now."

I shifted, my form undulating. I wanted to tell her that I didn't know what I was. I wanted to tell her that every time I absorbed something, the noise in my head got louder, a thousand screaming voices demanding a throne I couldn't remember.