The streets of Northgate were alive with the bustle of late afternoon. Merchants called out their final sales of the day, horse-drawn carriages rattled over cobblestones, and the scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the sharp tang of coal smoke. But Senna paid little attention to any of it as he walked, his mind consumed by Darian's offer.
The idea of working with a Seeker of the Church of Light churned uneasily in his chest. On the one hand, it was practical—he had no money, no real direction, and little hope of finding answers on his own. Traveling with Darian would provide him with both coins and information. The Church's resources would open doors he couldn't reach alone, and he might finally uncover the truth about the fires, his transformation, and why he had survived when so many hadn't.
But the risks…
Senna's jaw tightened as his mind turned to the other side of the coin. Being so close to the Church, it would be only a matter of time before his new abilities were discovered. If Darian or any of the other Seekers discovered what he had become, they wouldn't hesitate to dig deeper. And digging deeper would only bring trouble.
"More trouble than I need," he muttered under his breath, adjusting the blanket draped over his shoulders to shield himself from the lowering sun.
Even now, the idea of being close to the Church made him uneasy. Their sharp eyes, their probing questions, their strange methods for determining the truth—it was too much.
He turned down a quieter street, his steps slow and deliberate as he passed rows of crumbling tenements and shuttered shops.
The streets grew quieter the farther he walked, the sounds of bustling markets and crowded taverns fading into the distance.
He went even further past the refugee camps, into a completely abandoned section of the town.
He had wandered into one of the oldest parts of the city, where time seemed to have stopped.
Here, the houses were significantly more rundown. Their exteriors bore the weight of decades of neglect—wooden shutters hung askew, bricks crumbled from their mortar, and ivy crept along walls like nature's attempt to reclaim what had been abandoned. The cobblestone streets were uneven, many stones missing altogether, and the air smelled faintly of mildew and rot.
Senna's sharp eyes darted around, scanning for signs of life. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of movement—an alley cat darting into a shadowed crevice or a dog running around, but there were no people here.
Senna had heard around the town that there was a superstition of devils living here. Locals claimed that serial killers had once used these crumbling buildings to hide their grisly deeds and that devil worshippers had performed blasphemous rituals in the depths of its abandoned basements.
Senna wondered if the section of the city truly had an evil curse or the isolation simply attracted the kind of people who thrived in the dark—the killers, the thieves, and those who sought power through forbidden means.
Still, he couldn't entirely dismiss the superstitions. His own transformation was proof enough that the world held stranger things than he'd once believed.
There were no prying eyes here, no curious onlookers to stare at him and ask questions. This place, with its eerie silence and crumbling buildings, offered the kind of refuge he needed—a place where he could be alone.
As the sun's last light faded, Senna found himself standing in front of an old, two-story house at the end of a narrow street. The windows were shattered, and the door hung slightly ajar, creaking in the faint breeze. It looked like it had been empty for years, though the faint trail of footprints in the dust suggested it wasn't entirely forgotten.
"This'll do," he muttered under his breath, stepping cautiously toward the entrance.
The wooden floorboards groaned under his weight as he entered, the air inside thick with the smell of damp wood and decay. Broken furniture lay scattered across the room—a splintered chair, an overturned table, and the remains of a fireplace that hadn't seen a flame in decades.
Senna moved deeper into the house, his boots crunching softly on the debris-laden floor. He checked each corner, ensuring he was truly alone, before settling on a small room near the back. The roof overhead was intact, offering shelter from the elements, and the thick shadows promised protection from prying eyes.
He dropped his blanket onto the floor and sat down heavily, leaning against the wall. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint sound of wind whistling through cracks in the wood.
As the last rays of daylight disappeared, Senna pulled his blanket around him, shutting out the chill of the approaching night. He closed his eyes, his mind still churning with thoughts of Darian's offer.
The risks were undeniable, but so were the opportunities. Traveling with the Seeker might be the only chance he had to uncover the truth about the fires and his own survival. But at what cost?
For now, there were no answers—only the quiet creak of the old house and the weight of his own thoughts. He let out a long breath, his body slowly relaxing against the wall.
"I'll sleep on it," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible in the empty room
That night, the pale moon shone brightly, its soft silver light bathing the crumbling rooftops and empty streets of the abandoned district. The air was cool and still, carrying with it the faint scent of mildew and decay. Senna stood on the second floor of the decrepit house he had chosen for shelter, peering out through a shattered window.
Above him, the moon hung in its waning gibbous phase, casting faint shadows across the uneven cobblestones below. Its light illuminated the jagged edges of the broken district, softening the decay and lending it an almost otherworldly beauty.
On the far end of the horizon, Senna could see the crimson fragments of the broken moon. They glimmered faintly, scattered like shattered glass across the heavens, their hue dark and foreboding. The contrast between the pale silver light and the blood-red shards was stark, almost unnatural, as if the sky itself carried a wound that refused to heal.
The silence of the abandoned house was broken by the sound of heavy breathing. As he stared at the moons, Senna felt a searing pain ripple through his body.
His muscles convulsed, his vision blurred, and he felt the familiar, terrifying pull of the transformation.
His hands clenched into fists, claws erupting from his fingertips, and his sharp teeth bared in a feral snarl. His blood-red eyes gleamed in the darkness, glowing faintly like embers. For a moment, he was consumed by a primal hunger clawing at his mind.
But Senna fought back.
He closed his eyes and focused, breathing deeply, forcing the monster to recede. His breaths slowed, the sharpness of his claws dulled, and his fangs retracted. Within seconds, the monstrous appearance faded, leaving him drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a war drum.
His stomach growled loudly, the hunger hitting him with a force that nearly doubled him over. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, trying to ignore the gnawing emptiness.
"It's been days," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. "I haven't eaten properly in days."
He clenched his jaw, willing the hunger away, but it only grew worse. His senses sharpened, his nose picking up faint scents even in the stagnant air of the abandoned house. He shook his head, desperate to resist, but the beast inside him would not be denied.
With a frustrated growl, Senna rose to his feet. "I can't... I can't fight this," he said through gritted teeth.
The hunger was unbearable, overwhelming, and he knew he had no choice. His body moved before his mind could catch up, and in a single, effortless bound, he leapt through the broken window and landed on the roof of the building next door. The structure groaned under his weight, but he didn't stop. His legs coiled like springs, and he launched himself into the air, clearing the narrow street below with ease.
The world blurred around him as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his superhuman strength on full display. The cool night air rushed past him, the pale moon casting a silver glow over the city as he searched for sustenance.
It wasn't long before he spotted it—a stray dog rummaging through a heap of garbage in a narrow alley. The animal's ribs were visible beneath its mangy coat, but to Senna, it was the most enticing sight he had seen in days.
He descended swiftly, landing silently on the cobblestones below. The dog froze, its head snapping up to look at him.
The smell of the animal, mingled with the garbage, made Senna's mouth water. His senses went into overdrive, every sound and movement amplified as he focused in on his prey.
The dog's wide eyes locked onto Senna's glowing red ones, and it whimpered, instinctively backing away.
"I'm sorry," Senna whispered, his voice shaking with both guilt and hunger. "I'm so sorry."
But there was no stopping what came next.
The beast overtook him in an instant, and he lunged forward, his sharp teeth sinking into the dog's flesh. The animal yelped once, a sound that echoed painfully in Senna's ears, before going silent.
Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, as Senna devoured the dog with a voracious intensity. His body moved on instinct, tearing into the meat, his claws shredding fur and bone alike. The taste, though repugnant to his rational mind, was intoxicating to his body.
When it was over, Senna sat back, his hands and mouth stained with blood. He stared at the mangled remains of the dog, his stomach now full but his soul hollow.
"I can't live like this," he muttered, his voice trembling. "This... this isn't me. It's not who I am."
He clenched his bloodstained fists, his red eyes narrowing. "If I don't stop this, it'll only get worse. It won't be stray dogs next time. It'll be people."
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he rose to his feet, the reality of his situation sinking in. He had to find a way to fix this, to cure himself of this monstrous hunger before it consumed him completely.
Senna wiped his hands on his blanket, his resolve hardening.
"I'll take Darian's offer," he said quietly, his voice firm. "If the Church of Light can't help me find a cure, no one can."