The ink bled onto the parchment like it was alive. Celeste's hand shook as she finished scrawling her signature, and the instant the last curve of her name was complete, the room shifted.
The man smiled—bigger this time, too wide, as if his mouth wasn't constrained by human anatomy. "It's done," he said softly, reverently.
The robed figures began to chant, their voices weaving into an ominous, pulsating rhythm that made Celeste's heart race. The air thickened again, but this time it wasn't suffocating. It was electric, a strange, hot current buzzing over her skin.
"What… what now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Now," the auburn-haired woman purred, stepping closer, "you become one of us. One of the chosen."
The room fell away, the shadows consuming everything until it was just Celeste, the man, and the woman standing together in a space that felt vast and infinite. A golden glow ignited under Celeste's feet, and she realized she was standing on an elaborate sigil carved into the floor.
"What's happening?" she asked again, more urgently this time.
The man's silver eyes bore into hers. "You've made the sacrifice. Now, you are bound to us—and to the pact."
Celeste stumbled back, her heart pounding. "I didn't agree to be bound—I thought this was about my career!"
The auburn-haired woman laughed, a rich, honeyed sound. "And it is, darling. But you can't have the fame without the exchange. You'll still be you—just enhanced. Elevated."
"Changed," the man corrected.
"How changed?" Celeste demanded, panic starting to creep into her voice.
The auburn-haired woman stepped closer, her sharp nails tracing along Celeste's jaw. "You'll feel it soon. The hunger, the heat. It's intoxicating, really."
Before Celeste could reply, the sigil beneath her feet flared bright, and her body was consumed by an intense, searing warmth. It wasn't painful—quite the opposite. It was euphoric. A rush of energy surged through her veins, her heart pounding faster, her senses sharpening.
She gasped as her skin tingled, her vision sharpening until she could see every detail of the figures still shrouded in the shadows. The robed bodies were human, but the eyes glowing beneath the hoods were not.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"Power," the man said simply.
The warmth intensified, pooling in her chest, her throat, her hips. Her body felt alive in a way it never had before, like every cell was vibrating with potential. But there was something else too, something darker—a deep, insatiable hunger clawing its way up from the pit of her stomach.
Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, gasping. The auburn-haired woman crouched beside her, brushing Celeste's hair back. "That feeling?" she said, her voice low and intimate. "That's your awakening. Your initiation."
Celeste looked up at her, eyes wide. "What do I have to do?"
The woman's smile widened, and she leaned in close, her lips brushing Celeste's ear. "You feed."
The next thing Celeste knew, she was being led down a narrow, dimly lit corridor. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and something else—something heady and primal. The walls were lined with doors, each one emanating a faint, pulsing glow.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
The man walked ahead, his silver eyes gleaming in the low light. "To the next stage. Your first offering."
Celeste's heart thudded in her chest. "Offering?"
The auburn-haired woman, now walking beside her, chuckled. "Every great artist has a muse. Someone who gives them strength, inspiration, drive. You'll find yours here."
They stopped in front of a door, its glow pulsating like a heartbeat. The man turned to Celeste, his expression unreadable. "Inside is someone waiting for you. Someone who wants to give themselves to you completely. Their devotion will sustain you, elevate you, bind you to the pact."
Celeste stared at the door, her hands trembling. "And if I don't?"
The auburn-haired woman tilted her head, her fiery hair cascading over her shoulder. "Then the hunger will consume you. And trust me, darling—you don't want that."
Swallowing hard, Celeste reached for the door handle. The metal was warm under her palm, almost alive. She pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room was bathed in soft, golden light, and at its center stood a man—young, strikingly handsome, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was shirtless, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, and his eyes locked onto hers the moment she entered.
"Celeste," he said, his voice low and reverent.
She froze. "How do you know my name?"
He smiled, stepping closer. "I've known about you for a long time. We all have. I volunteered for this."
"For what?" she whispered, though deep down, she already knew.
"For you," he said simply. "I'm yours now."
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. The warmth from before returned, spreading through her veins, pooling in her core. The hunger clawed at her, stronger now, impossible to ignore.
"I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers. "You don't have to. Just let go."
And then, instinct took over.
The golden light dimmed as the sigil on the floor flared to life again. The man's body arched beneath her touch, and Celeste felt the energy transfer between them—a rush of power unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Her mind blurred with the sensation, the hunger fading as her body drank in his devotion.
When it was over, she sat back, panting, her skin glowing faintly. The man lay before her, his breathing shallow but content, a serene smile on his lips.
The auburn-haired woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes alight with approval. "Beautiful," she said. "You've taken your first step."
Celeste stared at her hands, trembling. "What did I just do?"
"You fed," the woman said. "And now, the real work begins."
The hunger was gone—for now. But Celeste knew it would come back. And next time, it would demand more.