The crowd's adoration thrummed through Celeste's veins, intoxicating, addictive. She stood in the center of the ballroom, bathed in the shimmering lights of cameras, microphones, and flashing neon. The energy was overwhelming, the buzz of excitement a constant hum in the air. But what made it even more surreal was the fact that she was the center of it all. Her first private event. Her first taste of what was now her reality.
Her song Riot played over the speakers as she stepped onto the stage, the crowd's roar growing louder. The pulsating beat filled her chest as if her heart had synchronized with the thumping bass. She had written Riot months ago, a song about defiance, about reclaiming power. She hadn't known then that it would become an anthem for her own journey—a signal to the world that Celeste was no longer just a dreamer, but a force to be reckoned with.
But as the song bled into the next track, Popular, her latest single that had exploded into viral charts and climbed to the top in just a few weeks, Celeste felt something darker stirring within her. The hunger.
It was like a whisper at the back of her mind, coaxing her, pulling her. Every word she sang, every note she hit, made her crave the energy, the adoration. She reached out to the crowd, letting their hands brush hers, absorbing the power of their touch. They wanted her. They needed her. And with every song, every performance, she was feeding.
Popular had done what Riot couldn't. It had cemented her as the "it" girl. A trend. A force of nature in the music industry. Overnight, her Instagram followers had grown from a couple thousand to over a million. Her YouTube channel skyrocketed. Every interview, every photo shoot, every stage she stepped on—people hung on her every move. It wasn't just fame. It was addiction. Their addiction to her, her addiction to them.
And that's when she realized something. She wasn't just a performer. She was a product. A vessel. An object to be consumed and worshipped. And in the silence between songs, in the fleeting moments when her eyes darted to the backstage, she could feel it—the hunger, that constant craving for more. More attention. More touch. More power.
She left the stage as the crowd cheered her name, their voices crashing against the walls. She could hear them screaming for more, calling her name like a chant, a prayer. The backstage area was a blur of assistants, agents, photographers, and producers, but her mind was elsewhere. It was empty and full at the same time. She needed something. Something more.
"Celeste."
She turned sharply. It was Riot, standing in the corner, watching her with a knowing look.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.
"Yeah," she answered, though her eyes didn't quite meet his. "I'm fine. Just… just need a minute."
Riot studied her for a moment, his eyes softening. He knew that look. The same hollow hunger that had been in his own eyes when he'd first fallen into their grasp. It wasn't just the crowd she was feeding off now. It was the fame. The constant praise. It was a drug. And the more she got, the more she'd need.
"I'm here if you need to talk," he said, his tone sincere.
Celeste nodded, but her thoughts were already drifting. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she wasn't seeing—something deeper in this world that she was just starting to understand.
As if on cue, the auburn-haired woman appeared from the shadows, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she approached Celeste.
"You were perfect," the woman purred, her voice a smooth, velvet promise. "Everyone is talking about you. The Riot single is everywhere, and Popular is climbing the charts faster than we ever anticipated."
Celeste's stomach clenched, but the words tasted sweeter than ever. She had known that her singles were big, but this? This was beyond anything she could have imagined.
"I told you it would work," the woman continued, her gaze never leaving Celeste's face. "And now you're ready for the next step."
The woman's words pulled Celeste out of her reverie. "What next step?" she asked, her voice faint with confusion.
"The world isn't enough anymore. Now, we take control." The woman's eyes flickered, and Celeste could almost see something flicker in the depths of her gaze. "We need you to take the next step, Celeste. You've been feeding off the public, yes, but now it's time to feed from those closest to you."
Celeste's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
"You've already bonded," the woman said softly. "But to take full control, you need to feed more. Your power will only grow stronger when you bind those who are closest to you. Those who would do anything to keep you in the spotlight."
"Like… Riot?" Celeste's voice shook, though she wasn't sure why.
The woman's smile was sharp. "Exactly. You'll need him to stay by your side. The bond won't just secure your power; it will keep you from falling apart. But remember, Celeste, the more you feed, the more you'll crave."
The words hung in the air like a warning, but Celeste didn't know if she was ready to listen.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen.
Mom: "We're on our way. Should be there in a couple of hours. Excited to see the new house! We love you!"
Celeste's heart stuttered in her chest. She couldn't wait to see them, to show them the life she was now living. But she also couldn't help the nagging feeling that things were starting to slip away from her grasp.
And when she looked back at Riot, standing in the corner with that far-off expression on his face, she knew—he was already starting to slip, too.
Hours later, Celeste paced around the massive foyer of her mansion, her eyes darting to the grand staircase. The house was empty except for her, the servants, and the staff. The feeling of solitude pressed in around her, but she was no longer alone in her mind.
She felt it again. The hunger.
Her phone buzzed again.
Mom: "Almost there. Can't wait to see the place!"
Celeste took a breath, letting the tension drain from her body for a moment. Then, the doorbell rang.
Her heart raced as she rushed to answer it, nearly throwing it open. Her mother and Rollie stood on the other side, the look of awe on their faces as they took in the sprawling mansion.
"Celeste…" her mother said softly, her eyes misting. "This is… this is incredible."
Rollie, ever the dreamer, gaped. "You really did it, huh?"
Celeste smiled, feeling an unfamiliar weight settle on her chest. She couldn't deny the ache of pride. But the hunger? It was still there. Growing.
"Yeah, I did," she said, her voice low. "And now it's our turn."
But deep down, she knew the truth—this wasn't their turn. It was hers. And whatever came next, she would have to feed to stay at the top. And the only way to feed was to take.
Take it all.