Hunger and Devotion

Temptation—that’s what Ursula was. As Julian stalked through the city above, Ravenlight remained his to protect. Yet, he still needed to feed, to renew the bond between himself and the land. The ritual, which usually involved the people of Ravenlight offering him a vessel to feed upon, had been disrupted by Ursula. Because of her, he hadn’t been able to complete it.

He walked down the cobbled streets, lanterns flickering as the crisp winter wind whispered past him. His prey lurked somewhere in these seedy alleys. He didn’t relish the thought of feasting on a criminal—those never settled well—but he had a promise to keep.

Julian was bound to the land, held fast by an ancient spell his family, the Vortalis, had upheld for thousands of years. He was more than just his mortal form—so much more. The Vortalis were the very things that haunted children’s nightmares, ancient beasts tasked with protecting the land.

When Ravenlight was built atop the sanctuary of the Vortalis, a pact was forged: the city would provide the family guardian with sacrifices, and in return, he would shield the land from the horrors that lurked beyond.

He was still haunted by her words—the way she had said please, as if the death he could give her was a mercy, an end to suffering. No one pleaded. Most fought, begged not to be consumed. But she wanted him to kill her, and that alone had stopped him.

The thought infuriated him. Ravenlight had offered her up? She had volunteered? No one volunteered to die.

As he stepped into the seediest part of town—the Devil’s Backbone—the shadows thickened, curling around him like living things. He stretched his fingers, flexing them as they elongated into dark, black claws. The air itself seemed to seep with darkness, swallowing what little light remained. Lanterns flickered, their glow stuttering out. The wind howled, snapping in response to the ripple of his power. His coat flared in the moonlight, his fangs glistening, his skin dripping with inky blackness as he began to stalk the streets of the Devil’s Backbone.

Julian rippled through the alleys, his footsteps muffled by the heavy shadows. The people in their homes and packed taverns didn’t notice him as he moved through the darkness, a silent predator. Then, he heard it—a sharp cry of pain. It pierced the night, like a red string of anguish only he could hear. He turned his head at an odd angle, honing in on the sound.

He swept down the alley, passing debris and broken glass, his movements swift and silent. There, on the ground, lay a girl—beaten, bruised, and battered. A man stood over her, his posture cocked as if sensing that death was about to greet him personally. Julian felt the hunger rise within him, a cold, gnawing force that he couldn’t control. In an instant, his restraint shattered. The man had no chance.

Julian’s jaws unhinged, and he became the darkness itself. His form blurred, the black stain of mortality fading from the world as he moved. With a single, swift motion, he snapped the man's life away, devouring his very essence in a moment of sheer violence. The coil of life was severed, and with it, the man’s soul was extinguished.

The light returned to the lanterns, flickering once more as if nothing had happened. The girl lay motionless on the ground, yet another victim of violence in the Devil’s Backbone. Julian adjusted his coat, the dark fabric settling with an eerie fluidity. He wiped his mouth, a small smear of blood staining the leather of his gloves. The taste of life lingered on his tongue, a bitter reminder of the darkness he had embraced. His eyes flickered with an unnatural shade, something far beyond human.

He didn’t linger. Julian scooped the girl up effortlessly, her fragile form cradled in his arms.He moved swiftly, no hesitation, no thought of consequences.He knew exactly where to take her—a person in Ravenlight who would take her in, no questions asked. It was a place of refuge for those who had nowhere else to go.

As he vanished into the night, the shadows seemed to cling to him, but the girl’s life—however fleeting—would be preserved. For now. He made his way to Willow Court, heading toward the backdoor of Olive Chambers' house. A woman appeared, taking in the sight of Julian with the girl in his arms. Olive Chambers stood there in a black gown, her steely grey eyes cold and sharp, her countenance imperious.

“You didn’t do this, did you?” Her tone was accusatory, laced with venom.

“No.” The word resonated from him, low and unwavering.

“Take her to one of the rooms. I’ll see she’s taken care of. Where did you find her?” Olive asked, her dark dress swishing with every precise movement.

“The Devil’s Backbone,” he replied, taking her to one of the rooms and laying her gently on the bed. A maid entered shortly after, beginning to assess what needed to be done. Olive watched him carefully.

“And…” Olive began to ask.

“We have a deal,” Julian said, his voice a low hiss as it slithered through the room. The air seemed to chill, the tension thickening. “You don’t ask questions.”

Olive met his gaze. She had been one of the few bright spots in the darkness of Ravenlight. Her husband, Michael, had been killed seven years ago—one of the very things the Vortalis family was meant to keep out of Ravenlight. A Dreadbeast had attacked, taking both Michael and his brother James during the battle. In the aftermath, Olive had made an accord with Julian: she would take in those he brought to her, without question, and in exchange, Julian would continue to fund her household. It was a strange partnership born out of loss and mutual need.

“I need a favor, and I need you to be discreet,” Julian said, his voice cool but with an edge of something unspoken. He rarely asked Olive for favors, but something about Ursula was bothering him. She was below the earth now—like a sightless bird, willingly sacrificed, if not something darker.

“I need you to make inquiries about who the Mayor of Ravenlight sent me—Ursula Fiore.”

Olive raised an eyebrow. “Why?” She couldn’t help herself, curiosity lacing her tone. She looked at him, her gaze piercing as she awaited an answer.

Julian stared back, silence stretching between them. How could he answer that? Temptation lay beneath his feet, tucked away in one of his own rooms below the city. The scent of her life force still lingered in his mind, strong and unsettling, even now.

"She volunteered," was all he could offer.

That alone was enough to make Olive gasp. Something was undeniably wrong, and unease settled over her face.

Julian Vortalis had served as Guardian of the land surrounding Ravenlight for over five hundred years. Those brought before him faced one of three fates—condemnation by the court, selection by lottery, or being offered as a beautiful sacrifice to uphold the rites of protection.

But never had Julian fed from a willing soul. The very thought pulled him back to a time he longed to forget.

Once, he had loved—a beautiful woman named Isabella Rose. But his father had been cruel, forcing him to consume her soul. Love, the elder Vortalis had decreed, was a weakness their bloodline could not afford. He still remembered the way she died in his arms, the way he tried to make it as painless as possible. And the way it had shattered him nonetheless.

“Don’t worry, I sated the land tonight,” he said, his gaze dark as he thought about the life he’d consumed not long ago. The bitter taste still lingered in his mouth. Men of violence tasted like ash and venom. His patience was beginning to wear thin; he shouldn’t linger here much longer.

“Reassuring,” Olive murmured, extending her hand.

Julian pressed a kiss to her knuckles—not in affection, but in respect. The work she did was dangerous, sheltering the lost and broken, giving them purpose in a world that offered none. Then, without another word, he slipped into the night, vanishing into the garden’s shadows.

His mind swirled—tonight had been many things. Julian walked to the edge of town, letting the darkness overtake him. As he stepped into the tree line, the shadows curled around him, embracing him as he surrendered to the beast within. He ran, giving himself to the night, but no matter how fast he fled, the sound of her life force still haunted him—a melody he was doomed to remember.

His clothes tore away, shredded by the force of his transformation. Shadows coiled around him like living tendrils, his eyes narrowing into slits. Under the cover of night, he ran—wild and unbound—as the world around him faded into the abyss.