Corabelle found herself furiously pacing the garden, able to get the sound of snapping bones out of her head.

  She just didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. What was wrong with him?

  What had happened?

  Barely a week ago, he’d been his completely normal self. So concerned about her. But now? He knew how much she cared about the animals. She’d never so much as seen evidence of him killing anything bigger than a fish before, though she knew he must have. HE kept it well hidden from her.

  What was this sudden shift? She knew he was right, that she would eventually need to eat like every other Faedemon. But she never thought he would show her like that? And certainly not this soon.

  His whole demeanor had suddenly changed. Treating her like she was an interruption, a pest. He showed no remorse or even hesitation slaughtering the animals in front of her when she was very obviously upset. Everything she did was met with a dull placidity. It was almost like he just suddenly didn’t care; about her, about anything.

  He was like a completely different person. If not for the impossibility, she would almost think he was.

  She found herself snatching leaves from branches, crushing fruit in her palm as she plucked them from trees, mind fixating on another impossible problem; that grotesque hunger.

  He’d said all living things had a Spark, but the life of a plant… it was miniscule, nothing but a morsel, a crumb of energy. But she had to try. She couldn’t live her whole life tearing apart animals with her bare hands…. Or worse.

  She ate until she couldn’t move, the sheer volume of substanceless matter making her feel like she was going to explode.

  Sitting on the edge of a planter bed, her mind reeled the ever growing list of catastrophes she was facing.

  She thought she could handle this. She thought this was preferable to death. She though she might have a change at happiness here but now… She would spend her life a monster.

  Faedemons were monsters. That’s what every human was taught. While that ingrained notion had been slowly being amended, she could shake the horrific fear she felt being in the room with Zaramir as he slaughtered those animals. She wanted to believe that Faedemons weren’t inherently murderous animals, just unfortunate souls locked in a pact they never agreed to. That's what she thought Zaramir was, but there was something different now. There was a predatory side, a dangerous cold nature she’d never seen. She knew it was a necessity, but she didn’t think he would slaughter animals in front of her. She knew he was well aware of her feelings toward them and he so callously all but directly called her a hypocrite, implying she was not better. And maybe he was right, but regardless, in those moments, he was a beast she didn’t recognize.

  Until this day, he never behaved like a monster, not from the moment they met. Rude, flippant, condescending, arrogant, wounded, and so so oblivious. But never monstrous.

  She had to pray that this sudden change in Zaramir’s attitude wasn't the new norm. Perhaps he was just going through something she didn’t know. This would blow over. It had to for both their sakes. She had to desperately hope that soon he’d be back to his usual mostly-kind-with-a-touch-of-superiority self soon, because if not, she didn’t think she could handle eternity alone.

  -----

  Crafting the poison had been easy. The ingredients weren’t rare; the methods so easy a novice could replicate with one hand behind their back

  And yet, he hesitated. It would work as intended, of that he was certain, but he hesitated.

  He stared at the vibrant purple liquid that swirled with flecks of particulate. It had a dull glow to it, the vial still warm in his hand, despite having been completed and bottled hours ago.

  This would hurt. Not so much so physically that he couldn’t manage and it was necessary until he found a better solution. But it would hurt.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  But coming down from this would be agony. Every emotion it held back would flood at once, not mention the toll just using it in the first place would take.

  It would siphon his Spark and his spirit, it would leave him as nothing. It would be nothing but computations and knowledge. It would be functional, many even efficient, but misery and he wouldn’t even know it.

  Last time it was a welcome reprieve, being able to work without that spirit slaughtering burden of failure, but this time he wished it wasn’t the only solution. He’d just have to be certain that he sustained his Spark well enough that it wouldn’t kill him, that the Fae wouldn’t notice.

  His fist tightened around the vial until his knuckles went white. He had to loosen his grip before it shattered.

  Rejection from her, he could live with; Possessing her, he couldn’t. He already took more from her than he could ever amend and so long as his emotions continued to spiral, he couldn't guarantee he wouldn’t take more.

  His resolve steeled, remembering the look in her eyes as her memories vanished, her voice expressing little more than disappointment, not even aware of the horrific crime committed against her.

  The poison was nothing but acid. It burned his throat and stomach, even his veins as it rapidly absorbed. His whole body stung, feeling like his skin was covered in millions of small cuts that were drenched in citrus juice.

  He caught himself on the edge of the table, gripping the steel, waiting for it to end.

  The feeling thankfully never lasted long. I mellowed out quickly, leaving an all too familiar sluggishness and an uncanny peaceful apathy.

  Now all that was left was the tedium of maintaining this state. He would need animals, ones with a decent Spark, and he would need to create a backstock of this potion. Then he should return to his work. It would make the most sense to return to the objective he was created for.

  So that's what he did. He worked and consumed the flesh of beasts to sustain his Spark, which dwindled far more quickly. He did so until he was interrupted.

  The stubborn girl never listened. He told her to leave. He knew the sight of the state of his lab would upset her. She had such a fondness for wild beasts and his lab was a mess.

  He’d taken great care before to ensure she never saw him harm anything warmblooded, something she might feel connection to. But if she wanted to disregard his instructions then she was the only one who could be blamed for seeing something she wouldn’t want to.

  Her reaction was as expected. She cared so damn much about everything. Even the small creatures. It was a trait he'd found endearing before, but in his current state was a nuisance.

  She would have to learn to get over it. She couldn’t sustain her Spark for very long on plant matter. Perhaps while she was young, aquatic life might hold her over, but not if she expected to perform higher level spells and certainly not when she required more Runebinds.

  She looked at him like he was a monster when he pointed this fact out to her.

  But, for at least this one aspect of him, he was no more a monster than the sickly timberwolf caged next to him.

  Logic told him he’d regret what he did next when he eventually stopped using the potion, but he doubted he’d ever be able to bear teaching her this lesson without the potion if she looked at him like this when he did.

  He could have told her the wolf was old, didn’t have long for this world, or that the rabbits were both infected by parasites, or that the deer was wasting away with an incurable disease, the small goat born with a fatal defect, but the animals they would need to consume wouldn’t always be so fortunately ill. Someday, there would be need to consume the healthy an innocent.

  He kept many animals, only consuming or using for experiments the ones that wouldn’t thrive in their habitat, but this was a luxury not many Faedemons had, one they likely wouldn’t have forever.

  He was even fortunate enough that he could now survive without human flesh. Young Faedemons out in the world wouldn’t be efficient enough at the hunt to do so.

  Fae knows he had no such fortune in his youth.

  He would need to re-capture the doe, and need to grab the rabbits from their hiding spot eventually, but for now the wolf would do. It was a pity to waste the horse, an animal of that size and intelligence had a comparably large Spark to most creatures.

  He would certainly repurpose the bones for potion. Perhaps the skin could be dried for component pouches. The intact organs could be bladders for larger batch non caustic potions. The flesh would have to be wasted. It was a shame. Though he couldn’t feel guilt for this, waste was unnecessary and he wished it could be avoided.

  She couldn’t even look at him when he consumed the wolf. She lay nauseated on the floor, but she had to accept this eventually. Accept it or starve.

  As he took the goat from its pen, he tried to explain this simple fact to her, but she was only more distressed by it.

  Perhaps this was not the most tactful approach, but it was necessary.

  She ran from him, the expression on her face not one he’d seen since the day they met. Complete fear of the thing that stood before her.

  He wished there was a way to make her understand. He wasn’t a monster. He just had to act like it until he could assure he wouldn’t truly become one.