25. The Hunt

Echo approaches, his hand outstretched and a smile playing on his lips. Without a moment's hesitation, I take his hand. There's no doubt—whatever he means by this "hunt," I'm all in. As our skin touches and shadows envelop us, a thrill tingles down my spine, anticipation kissing my lower back.

I want to feed again.

As we descend, I gasp deeply. Shadows still surround us, obscuring my vision. Yet, I don't need to see anything. Because I feel everything. The vibrant hum of happiness, the heavy pulse of sadness, the buoyant bounce of hope. Emotions charge the air, electric and tangible, each one lingering around me.

It's incredible, yet utterly alien. This place feels nothing like the realm I used to call home. It's a foreign land, inhabited by beings unlike me. It's beautiful. I am in awe the moment I take my first breath of earthly air. But as beautiful as it all is, it also destroys me. My stomach churns, my mouth fills with saliva and my fingers start itching from just how ravenous it all makes me.

My whole body begins to shake, the hunger rolling through me in waves.

The shadows around us stretch out and fade away, then disappear in a rush. Here we are, standing in the middle of a busy city street, invisible to the crowd hurrying past. A middle-aged woman walks right through me, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. For a split second, her soul is so close, almost like I could touch it, but still totally out of reach. I can't grab it. I can only feel it, teasing me with its presence, leaving me to deal with the pain of it being so near.

"Echo," I whimper, clutching my stomach and bending over from the pain.

This pain, though... it ignites a fury within me. I want to murder that woman for causing this torment. I want to unleash hell upon this realm.

Die, die, die, die, die. She must die. I must take away her will to live.

"This is what it feels like to be among the prey, Clarity," Echo purrs beside me, his long, clawed fingers running through my shoulders and straightening me as he presses me against himself. "In order to hunt, we must endure."

What does he mean by saying this is how it feels to be among prey? No, that can't be right. Endure? How am I supposed to endure this? It's driving me insane. I feel like a storm of restless energy that's about to burst at any given moment.

I peer at him through narrowed eyes, my teeth clenched. "How did you endure it?" I ask, my voice strained. "How did you chase me for so long in this nightmare?"

For me to feel him shadowing me for most of my life, he had to spend years watching me, hanging around me like this, invisible to everyone but himself. I never thought about it before—about how it must have felt for him. Being the prey is tough, but being the hunter isn't any easier, huh?

"Patience. Self-control."

I swallow hard. "But this world, it's… maddening."

He smirks. "Of course. Humans are noisy and emotional. They spill their feelings to anyone who'll listen. It's almost comical." He waves his hand dismissively. "But that's exactly what makes them so easy to control. They get lost in their emotions, oblivious to the fact that they're being watched. But you—you were different. You noticed."

I was, wasn't I? Thinking about it makes me feel weird. Proud, yet disgusted. It's strange. I can sympathize with who I used to be, remembering the loneliness and misery that weighed me down. But now, I get it. I understand Echo. Hunting me was just his nature.

What is my nature, though? There's only one thing I'm certain of: I can't imagine being human again. Something inside me is missing. I'm not like the souls wandering these streets.

"Still, as intriguing as it is to watch you endure the same agony I have, I'll show you some mercy, my Little… Demon," he purrs, running a hand over the small of my back. "Come, I know just the prey for a perfect meal."

He doesn't need to tell me twice. I'm ready to follow him to the depths of hell if it means quenching the fiery hunger in my belly.

"So, you had other prey while you were with me?" I ask, as the shadows close in around us again. My chest presses flush against his. For some reason, his skin doesn't feel cold anymore. It's just right—not too warm to burn, not too cold to feel lifeless. Touching him stirs something deep within me, too. It's not hunger; it's something more profound. But I wouldn't be able to name it even if I had to.

"Feeding on your emotions kept me satisfied for a long time," he says, his power whisking us away to another place. "They were so intense, I didn't need to hunt other souls. I was always with you. But when it became clear your soul would stay in my realm, I had to start hunting again."

I'm surprised he's giving me the answers to my questions, but it only feels fitting now, I guess. So, I keep on going.

"What about all the souls in the pit?" I ask, my hands gliding over his muscular shoulders. I thought he was beautiful before, but now, he's even more captivating. Maybe it's because I'm transforming into the being he is, but I can truly feel his immense power now. He's ancient. So ancient... "When did you reap them?" I whisper.

"Before you," he replies.

"So, when you left me in the dreamscape, you were searching for other sustenance already?"

"Yes."

I had thought he abandoned me to torment me, to make me feel utterly alone. But no... even then, he had chosen not to consume my soul. He wanted to keep me.

"But why not just eat the ones you had?" I ask. Hunger dominates my every thought; the idea of possessing souls without consuming them feels like torture. The proximity alone would drive me mad. He had eaten one next to me once, but that was it.

"Think about it," he replies, his voice steady and composed. "If you need a resource to survive, do you use it all up immediately, or do you plan to ensure it never runs out? The pit is my reserve."

Before I can reply, the shadows pulse once more, and suddenly, we're in a dimly lit room, the walls lined with flickering wall lamps. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, mingling with the weight of human despair.

In the center of the room, a man sits hunched over, eyes closed. He's asleep.

"This one," Echo whispers, his hand sliding to the small of my back, gently pushing me forward. "Can you feel how broken he is? Can you feel his soul calling out?"

My stomach tightens. There's something different about this human indeed. He's defenseless.

"What do I do with him?" I ask, stepping closer. Seeing him just sitting there, like a trapped animal, feels strange. But I didn't set that trap; he did. His own emotions have ensnared him, binding him like chains. I can feel each one—self-loathing, hatred, prejudice, and revulsion toward the world.

They weaken him, fill him with animosity. And that animosity calls to me.

"The door to his subconscious is open," Echo purrs. "Can you feel it?"

"I can."

"Slip in," he replies. "It's that easy."

Easy... Yes, it feels so simple. All I need to do is latch onto the venom inside him and let it pull me in.

"And then?" I ask, reaching the chair where he slumps. I crouch in front of him, studying his unremarkable face. Just another face in the crowd, but his ill will… it makes me lick my lips.

"Then we enter his dream. We show him the things he craves most. He'll sink deeper into oblivion. That's when we can do anything with him. We can make him scared, sad, or angry. That's when we feed."

Huh? Is that it?

"But what if I don't want to affect his dreams like that?" I ask, swallowing hard. My teeth graze my lower lip. They're still not as sharp as Echo's but they could easily pierce skin regardless. "What if I don't want to play any games?"

Echo cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing into tiny slits. He watches me intently even now. I think he'll always love watching me.

"You don't want to lure the prey?" he asks finally. "Knowing how powerless they are can be enjoyable if you let it."

I shake my head. It doesn't feel right for me to sneak around. I'm not interested in pretending to be someone I'm not or trapping an unsuspecting soul. I don't want its trust, and honestly, I have no desire to be a lurker at all. I don't know why, but I just want to… attack. I want them to feel me coming.

You were one of them.

But I'm not anymore.

"No, it's not that. I want to sit on their shoulders during daylight." The words spill from my lips before I can stop them. There's a ferocity in my voice that surprises even me, but the hunger gnawing at my insides demands satisfaction. "Not hide in the shadows."

Echo's gaze sharpens, a flicker of that beautiful malice glinting in his eyes."Interesting," he murmurs as he comes over, crouching next to the sleeping human. His fingers trail lightly down my arm. "Even though I created you, you're not becoming a copy of me. Maybe you're not a sleep demon after all. Maybe you don't even belong to the night at all."

I don't know what I am, but I nod, turning my attention back to the man, his despair a siren call. The stench of alcohol in his breath fills the air—I understand it. He's drinking to escape, to numb the feelings he's scared to face, if only for a moment. He wants to run from his problems.

I'd like to deepen that, make him escape further. But for now, we can do things Echo's way.

I focus on the way he told me to enter the human's subconscious. I place a hand on the man's shoulder, and he stirs, a low groan slipping from his lips. His eyes flutter open, and for a brief moment, there's a spark of recognition, a flicker of fear. But then I fixate on my desire to enter his dream, to witness his struggle within. Suddenly, something shifts. He closes his eyes again, his body going limp, and a shiver runs through me.

The room around us morphs. The alcohol-stained walls and scattered bottles vanish, replaced by an entirely different dimension. In an instant, I'm standing in an expansive, decrepit warehouse, cloaked in shadows and grime. The man is there too, lying on the floor, curled into a fetal position, his hands and legs bound.

Behind me, voices murmur, footsteps echo, and cries fill the air. It takes a moment to grasp the scene.

"He once called himself a successful man," Echo whispers in my ear, a mere shadow appearing beside me. "He had a thriving business, a wife, and a baby on the way..."

"What happened to him?" I ask, my voice barely audible.

"He lost everything."

That's all I need to know. The rest doesn't matter to me. The past me would have felt empathy for him. But the present me? I've gone beyond that point of humanity. The hunger within me roars, demanding satisfaction. I kneel beside him, my fingers tracing the lines of his face, feeling his fear and despair radiate in waves. It's intoxicating, a heady rush that blurs my vision and quickens my heartbeat.

"Are we in his dream?" I ask Echo. "Or is he in the dreamscape? In your realm?"

"We brought him to the dreamscape. Just for a little while," Echo whispers softly next to my neck.

The man on the ground stirs, his eyes opening. Our gazes lock, and I see a flicker of recognition—perhaps from another realm, or maybe he simply senses the predator before him. He whimpers, a sound that sends a thrill through me, and I crouch over him. My hand presses against his chest, feeling his heart's frantic thud beneath my palm. His fear is thick and suffocating.

"Shh, it's okay," I hush him. "Don't move."

I feel Echo's eyes on me as power flows from my palm to the man. Suddenly, I make him go limp, his eyes losing the fight in them.

"You made him idle," Echo comments. "Why?"

Honestly, I don't know. It just felt right. It felt natural to make the man give up.

"Do you want him to run?" I ask, turning my head to glance at the beautiful demon next to me. His black eyes glint, his head cocked to the side. "I'll take it away."

With a flick of my wrist, I withdraw my influence from the human, letting my power hum as I reshape the warehouse. Rows upon rows of walls emerge, forming a complex maze. But for the run to be truly interesting, it needs more. Echo craves the macabre, the taste of despair. So, I add another touch to the walls—reflections.

"Please, let me go," the man whimpers, returning to his panicked self, voice trembling.

Have I been once like him? So pathetic and weak? So easily lost to the game before it even began?

"Let you go?" I ask the human. "No, I don't think we'll do that."

Then, Echo puts his clawed hand on the man's chest and grips him tight. The man cries out in pain. The sound is intoxicating, fueling the darkness within me. I can feel his despair and his hopelessness. I want to feel more. I want the man to give up already.

"No, no, no," he cries.

"Can you devour his soul here?" I ask Echo, watching the crying man with eyes widen. I want to see all of it, every single moment of his fear.

"If we break him enough," my demon replies. "Or if he lets us take him willingly."

Him letting us take him willingly… I like the sound of that. Playing games is not what I want. As a human, I've been the subject of too many of them. I want the man's surrender. But I want to see Echo break this man first. I want to watch him hunt.

"Breaking it is, then." I get on the floor with my knees, twisting my body so that I hover above the man just slightly. The taste of his fear is electric in the air. Running a sharp nail through his restraints, I pop them slowly one by one. "Run," I whisper to him, then.

For a moment, he just stares at me, confusion and terror warring in his eyes. Then, with a surge of desperate energy, he scrambles to his feet and bolts into the maze I've created.

I watch him go. His fear is a living, breathing thing that wraps around me. I rise slowly.

The hunt has begun.