Page 26 of Psycho Shifters

Seconds stretched into an eternity. My consciousness flickered as he fed, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision. Just when I thought I might pass out, he wrenched away with a gasp, blood staining his lips and chin. His milky eyes had gone wild.

"Oh," he moaned, running his tongue over bloodied teeth. "You're even more divine than I imagined. So much power. So muchlife." His fingers dug into my shoulders as he shuddered with pleasure. "Can you feel it? How your essence sings in my veins?"

I wanted to scream, to fight, to die—anything but endure the way he looked at me now, like I was something to be consumed. To be devoured. But I couldn't even turn my head away as he leaned in again, tongue tracing the wound he'd made.

"Your blood might save us all," he whispered against my throat. "Perhaps we should open you up, spill all of you onto the land itself, see if we can't restore the entire realm with what flows through these veins." His hand slid down to rest over my heart. "That’s what you want, isn’t it, my darling? To be the salvation of Umbrathia?"

"My brothers and sisters," he called out suddenly, his voice trembling with the most horrifying form of excitement. "Come taste her."

Gray uniforms moved toward the bed, knives glinting in their hands, their milky eyes all fixed on me with that same terrible hunger. My mind broke further as they surrounded me, blades catching the light.No. Please no.I thrashed internally against the paralysis, but my body betrayed me, refusing to respond as they descended.

Sharp pricks of pain bloomed across my arms, my shoulders, my wrists my ankles. Each new wound followed by the press of cold lips, the grotesque sounds of feeding. My essence was being pulled in too many directions, drawn out of me like poison from a wound. The room began to spin.

Valkan's laughter drifted somewhere above me. "Careful. We mustn't drain her completely. Not yet." His bloodied fingers traced my cheek. "She's far too precious for that."

The last thing I saw before consciousness fled was his face hovering above mine, those dead eyes gleaming with triumph as he whispered, "Welcome to your new life."

Time lost all meaning.I drifted between darkness and horror, never fully gone, never truly awake. Each time awareness returned, new mouths fed from different cuts. The room spun endlessly, and my essence felt threadbare, pulled apart like afraying rope. Sometimes, I could make out distant conversations, fragments of sentences.

“Sir, I just returned from Ilsthyre. You requested me?”

“Oh do tell, how is my dear brother? Still pouting over his newest title?” Valkan’s voice cut through the mist swimming in my head.

“He seems to be having a hard time.” The other man’s voice sounded pained, almost fearful.

“Of course he is. He’s always been dreadfully dim-witted. Always cowering at a simple conflict. Tell me, what’s the status of blood rot?”

“They’re uncontrollable. Lethal, and strong. But they do not discern between foe and friend, sir. It seems to be getting worse.”

For a split second, I could have sworn Valkan’s eyes settled on me.

“I have an idea, Frederick.” His voice was touched by a smirk. “A recent discovery. It’s made me rather curious.” Valkan’s hand slithered across my arm. “Bring me one of them. I wonder if they will respond differently to her.” He found my hand and dragged it up against his lips.

“You want to bring one of them here, sir?” the voice questioned, a slight tremor in his tone. “Into the city?”

“Did I not make myself clear? Why do you still stand before me? Go.”

“But–”

A scream shattered the quiet murmurs from the rest of the room. At first, I thought it might have been a figment of my imagination, but then there were more. They grew louder, more distinct. More victims in other rooms? No one would have volunteered for this if they knew what fate awaited them once Valkan's forces began their torture.

But it didn’t seem to be. Both Valkan and the other Damphyrehad gone eerily silent, their heads snapped in the direction of the door.

“How did he—” A man's voice rang from beyond the chamber, followed by more screams.

A deep vibration began to pulse through the stone floor. The crystal chandelier above swayed. One of the windows cracked—a thin line appearing in the glass that spread like a spider's web.

The pressure in the room shifted suddenly, violently. My ears rang and crackled, like being dragged into ocean depths. The walls seemed to groan under some invisible weight.

A massive crack split the air—the sound of wood and stone protesting against an impossible force. The bedposts splintered, pieces of ornate carvings raining down around me.

The Damphyre scrambled through the room, but it was too late. Their bodies jerked upward as if yanked by invisible hooks, boots scraping desperately against marble as they were lifted into the air. For one terrible moment, they hung suspended—their milky eyes wide with genuine fear for the first time.

The pressure in the room became suffocating as the Damphyre's bodies hung in the air, so still, even as chaos erupted around them.

In an instant, their forms began to contort.

The sound of bones snapping filled the chamber as they compressed, folding inward like paper crushed by a giant fist. Blood erupted from every orifice as the pressure increased. Their screams cut off in wet gurgles before their forms imploded completely, reduced to unrecognizable masses that rained down onto the marble floor.