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The night sky unfolded its grandeur above him. The celestial canvas, once veiled in a soothing blue haze, now unveiled a cosmic spectacle of countless pearls strewn across the velvety expanse. It resembled sugar delicately spilled over a vast blanket of darkness, each twinkling star a radiant gem.
The mesmerising display was more than a mere visual feast; it embraced him with a sense of profound welcome. Riki stood beneath the celestial masterpiece. It was a sight so enchanting that he knew, deep within, he would never tire of the sight.
Tell me, dear Harrow, is it true that vampires hate wolves?
The voice echoed throughout the forest, and Riki stopped his feast. The man, half dead in his arms, desperately tried to scramble out of his grip. Fingertips clawed at his porcelain skin with despair, yet Riki's grip did not falter.
Red eyes trailed over the empty forest, trying to catch sight of the woman — or whatever she was. When he saw nothing, heard nothing, he opened his mouth, sharp teeth shining under the stars. They sunk into the flesh of his prey once again. The sweet taste of crimson ran down his throat, quelling any hunger he had been feeling.
I smell prey, little star!
As do I, dear Harrow.
Riki pushed the body off him, dropping it to the ground, half dead. The body twitched and choked on his own blood. His own body froze, eyes lined with anxiety as they flickered across the dark forest once again. Nothing. There was nothing. No, there was something. Staring back at him were a pair of red eyes; Harrow.
From the shadows lept a figure, black fur and four paws. Harrow had taken the form of a wolf, his jaw open, before snapping shut around the throat of Riki's former victim. In surprise, Riki staggered backwards, almost tripping over his own feet as he saw Harrow rip the person apart. Blood and flesh, Riki had seen it all, but this was something else.
A palpable sense of malaise clung to Harrow, an unsettling aura that emanated from his enjoyment of chasing souls or the way he seamlessly embodied the very chaos that surrounded him. For Riki, it was as if needles were piercing his skin, a nauseating sensation rising in his throat like an unwelcome tide. The paradox of feeling unwell in the presence of something so strange and overwhelming baffled him — the dread within his chest, the oppressive weight upon his heart, and the prickling unease across his skin.
Fighting against this inexplicable discomfort, Riki couldn't linger in this disconcerting atmosphere. Desperate for respite, he tilted his head towards the ebony expanse above, seeking solace in the celestial dance of stars. Yet, even the stars themselves seemed to transform, mirroring the pale eyes that haunted his nightmares. Thousands of cosmic eyes stared back at him, materialising from the vastness of space in a haunting wisp of smoke.
