"Still breathing, huh? I thought the scavengers would've had your eyes by now," a voice sneered, dripping with a kind of boredom that felt like a slap in the face.
I didn't move. I couldn't. My spine felt like it had been replaced by shattered glass, and every breath was a gamble with a lung-full of rust and blood. I was sprawled in the dirt of the Lower Ward, the kind of place where the air tastes like old pennies and desperation.
Then came the boot. Heavy, leather, and precisely aimed. It slammed into my ribs, pinning me to the grime.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, trash," the man said.
I forced my head to turn. Jax. He was a mid-tier lackey for the kin who’d stripped me—a parasite who’d climbed the social ladder by licking the boots of the people who’d ruined me. He looked well-fed. His marrow rank was decent, giving his skin that polished, arrogant glow that made me want to rip his throat out with my teeth.
"What's left of you even worth stealing?" Jax laughed, leaning his weight into the boot. "You're a hollow shell, Cain. A walking void. You aren't even worth the dirt on my soles."
I tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet, hacking cough. My vision blurred. Then, that voice—the one from the depths of my own shattered core—screamed again. It wasn't a voice so much as a vibration, a hunger that made my teeth ache.
*Feast.*
I didn't know what it wanted, but I knew it wanted *him*.
"Please..." I rasped, the word barely a whisper.
Jax grinned, leaning down. "Please what? Begging for a quick death? Or maybe you want to tell me where you hid those last few shards of essence before they tore you open?"
He grabbed the collar of my ruined shirt, hoisting me up just enough so I could see the smugness in his eyes. He was so close I could smell the expensive cologne he used to hide the scent of the slums. He thought he held all the cards. He thought I was a broken toy.
"I don't... have... anything," I choked out.
"Liar," he hissed. He tightened his grip, his knuckles digging into my windpipe. "You're a bastard of the high blood. You've got something in there. Something the Elders want. Give it to me, and maybe I'll let you die without breaking every finger you have left."
I felt it then. Not a flicker, but a roar. The Devouring Bone—that forbidden, jagged thing fused to my soul—snapped awake. It didn't just want his marrow. It wanted his *existence*.
My hand moved before I could think. It wasn't a punch. It was a claw. I grabbed his wrist, my fingers locking like iron clamps.
Jax blinked. "The hell—"
He tried to pull away, but he couldn't. It was like he'd been welded to me. I felt a sudden, violent suction, a vacuum opening up in my chest that demanded to be filled.
*Give it to me,* the voice howled.
"Let go! Get off me, you piece of—" Jax started to scream, but the sound died in his throat.
I watched, mesmerized and horrified, as a pale, shimmering mist began to leak from Jax's skin. It wasn't blood. It was his marrow—his very essence, the source of his power and rank—being ripped out through the point of contact.
His face went from arrogant to terrified in half a second. Then to pure, unadulterated agony.
"What are you doing? Stop it! Stop!"
I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. The pain in my ribs was vanishing, replaced by a surge of heat that felt like liquid gold pouring through my veins. It was the most addictive feeling I'd ever known. I felt my muscles knit back together. I felt my heart beat with a strength that shook my chest.
Jax's body began to wither. It was like watching a time-lapse of a corpse rotting in the sun. His skin shriveled, clinging to his bones. His eyes sank into his skull, the light in them flickering like a dying candle.
"Please... Cain... stop..."
I didn't let go. I leaned in, my voice coming out low, steady, and dangerous. "You asked what I was, Jax. I'm the thing that eats people like you."
With one final, violent jerk, the last of the mist flowed into me. Jax didn't even have time to scream. He didn't just die; he collapsed. He turned into a heap of grey ash and brittle bone, his expensive clothes falling flat onto the dirt like a discarded costume.
I let go and fell back, gasping. I wasn't coughing anymore. My breath was deep, powerful. I looked at my hands—they were shaking, not from fear, but from the sheer rush of power.
But then, something happened.
As the last of Jax's essence settled into my bones, a flash of images slammed into my mind. It wasn't my memory. It was *his*.
I saw a dark room. I saw a woman with silver hair and eyes like frozen steel—General Sela. She was standing over a map, her voice cold and precise.
*"The boy is still alive,"* Sela's voice echoed in the stolen memory. *"The marrow extraction was incomplete. There's a residue—something the Elders didn't account for. If he wakes up, he's not just a liability. He's a key."*
I blinked, the memory fading as the rush subsided. I stared at the pile of ash that used to be a man.
Sela. She knew I was alive. And she didn't want me dead—she wanted the 'residue' inside me.
I stood up, my movements fluid and sharp. For the first time in weeks, I didn't feel like a victim. I felt like a predator.
I reached down and picked up Jax's discarded signet ring, the gold glinting in the dim light. It was a pass to the Inner Circle. A ticket back to the people who had carved me open.
I looked toward the spires of the upper city, the glittering towers where the divine elites lived in luxury while I bled in the dirt.
"I'm coming for the rest of you," I whispered.
Just as I turned to leave, a shadow flickered in the alleyway. Someone had been watching.
I froze, my senses heightened. I could smell them—something sharp, like ozone and old parchment. I didn't panic. I just waited, my fingers curling into a fist, the Devouring Bone humming under my skin, hungry for more.
"That was a very messy way to kill a man," a female voice said, stepping out from the gloom.
It wasn't Sela. But the power rolling off her was suffocating, a heavy pressure that made the air feel thick. She was wearing a dark cloak, her face partially hidden, but her eyes—bright, predatory amber—were locked on me with a terrifying curiosity.
"Who are you?" I asked, stepping back into a fighting stance.
She tilted her head, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "Someone who knows exactly what you just did. And someone who knows that if the Elders find out you can 'eat' marrow, they won't just strip you again. They'll dissect you while you're still awake."
She stepped closer, the distance between us shrinking until I could feel the heat radiating off her. She didn't look afraid. She looked like she was eyeing a rare specimen in a jar.
"The question is," she whispered, her voice dropping to a low, vibrating tone that sent a shiver down my spine, "do you want to keep running, or do you want to learn how to actually hunt?"