Every fallen wizard has been through a struggle of despair.
Nikita vaguely remembers the first time she tore open a wizard's throat.
At that time, she was wandering at the end of the Nile River, with the scorching sun baking the earth mercilessly. The sand beneath her feet felt like a swamp, pulling her forcefully into the dark depths.
A young wizard had been tailing her for over a month. Hunters always have endless patience with their prey. He would watch her from afar as she stumbled and staggered through the desert.
She hadn't eaten anything in a week.
The demon blood transformed her completely, from her body to her psyche. The food of wizards, or humans, when eaten, would be violently rejected. Only blood could be accepted by a demon's body.
While animal flesh could stave off hunger, the more she ate, the stronger the sensation of starvation. Every upright being seemed like a moving candy, giving off a tempting sweet scent.
She resisted this desire.
