The cavern remained eerily silent, save for the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the dark corridors. A heavy, damp air filled the sanctuary, the lingering scent of iron clinging to the stone walls. She lay still, eyes half-lidded, staring at the figure beside her, whose breathing had finally evened out.
Despite her earlier wariness, sleep had claimed the strange girl quickly. The way she curled up so close—utterly defenseless—was foolish. She had been given no guarantee of safety, yet she slept as though she were beside an old friend. It was infuriating.
The cannibal's stomach twisted, the familiar hunger gnawing at her insides like a rabid beast. It was an agony she had long since learned to endure, but now, so close to such an unusual creature, it was unbearable. Blood still stained the girl's ruined dress, its scent thick in the stagnant air. The sight of it made her mouth water.
Reaching out with slow, deliberate movements, she traced a single finger over the drying crimson, pressing it lightly against the girl's arm. Warm. Alive. Yet, she had watched that life slip away, only for it to return as though death had merely brushed past her and moved on. It made no sense.
She lifted her finger to her lips, tasting the dried remnants of blood. It was cold now, lacking the vibrant richness she craved. Still, the taste lingered, something unnatural beneath the iron—something that made her breath hitch ever so slightly.
"What are you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The girl stirred slightly but did not wake. Her face, peaceful in sleep, was infuriatingly trusting.
With a sigh, the cannibal pulled away, pressing herself against the stone wall at her back. The hunger would have to wait. She had more pressing matters to consider—like how long this girl intended to stick around. And why, despite her irritation, she found herself hoping that she would.
Time passed in slow, dragging waves. The cavern's deep cold settled into her bones, but she did not move. The rhythmic rise and fall of the girl's breathing became an unintentional anchor, grounding her in the moment, even as the hunger screamed in the back of her mind. The sanctuary outside their chamber was no longer silent. The once-sleeping masses were stirring.
Beyond their isolated space, faint murmurs drifted through the stone halls. The distant clang of metal against metal, the rustle of shifting fabric, the quiet incantations of prayers to Ternoxae—all signs of morning in this underground sanctuary. Torchlight flickered against the rough cavern walls as robed figures moved past, their steps careful but purposeful. Initiates were awakening, preparing for another day in the goddess's domain.
Somewhere beyond the chamber, the scent of food—though meager and dull compared to what she craved—hung in the air. A reminder of what the others lived on, scraps of sustenance provided by those who clung to the twisted hope of Ternoxae's blessings. It was hardly enough to satisfy them. It was certainly never enough for her.
A shifting weight beside her pulled her attention away from the world outside. The girl murmured something incoherent, her brows furrowing before she stretched slightly, her fingers flexing against the blood-stained fabric of her dress. Her movements were sluggish, as though the very air pressed heavily against her limbs.
The cannibal watched as the girl rubbed her face with the back of her hand, then blinked blearily at her surroundings. For a fleeting moment, confusion flickered in her gaze, but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by a sleepy sort of contentment. She did not look afraid. She did not look wary. She simply looked… comfortable.
The cannibal's expression remained unreadable as she leaned her head back against the stone wall. Outside, the sanctuary continued its slow march into wakefulness. Inside, between the two of them, the quiet remained—fragile, unspoken, and lingering just on the edge of something unknown.
She would need to decide soon: Would she push this girl away, discard her like the others? Or would she keep her close, if only to unravel the mystery behind her blood?
As the cannibal's thoughts once again wandered, the girl tapped incessantly on the woman's shoulder, as if beckoning her, she had some sort of question or desire of something. The repeated motion was light but persistent, her fingers timid yet insistent, as if she hesitated to demand attention outright but could not ignore her own needs.
A low growling could be heard from the girl's stomach, this sound followed by an expression of discomfort on her face. She winced slightly, pressing a delicate hand against her abdomen as if that would quiet the protest.
The cannibal could ignore her own hunger; she was used to it. It had long since become an ever-present companion, an ache that she simply carried. But something deep within her twisted at the sight of the girl's discomfort, something foreign and unwelcome. The impulse to assist, to provide, made her scowl.
"You wanna hunt for men? Or do you prefer the flavor of girls?"
The cannibal said with a low bellowing tone, this was evidently her morning voice, thick with disuse. Her lips curled slightly, her tone dripping with amusement but layered with something else, something more curious. A test, perhaps.
The girl blinked, clearly caught off guard, her lips parting as if to respond but finding no words at first. The tension hung between them, thick and unspoken, as the distant hum of the waking sanctuary continued outside their chamber.
The cave beyond their chamber grew busier as more initiates prepared for the day, the distant echo of voices rising and falling in the tunnels. A few figures passed their doorway, shadows flickering in the dim torchlight, momentarily obscuring the warm glow that seeped through the cracks in the stone. The sound of boots scraping against the cavern floor mixed with murmured conversations, creating a dull, ambient noise that filled the space between breaths.
The cannibal's gaze flickered to the girl again, watching her reaction closely. The girl hesitated, shifting her weight slightly, her fingers twitching against the frayed fabric of her stained dress. It was clear that the thought of hunting unsettled her, but whether it was due to morality or something else entirely, the cannibal could not tell.
She smirked slightly, amused by the girl's hesitation. "Don't tell me you're picky," she murmured, stretching her arms lazily before pushing herself off the bed. "You came here for a reason, didn't you?"
The girl swallowed hard, as if the weight of the question pressed against her ribs. The sanctuary hummed with life outside, but in this chamber, the only sound was the quiet tension between them.
Then, for the first time since waking, the girl found her voice.
"I don't know what I am anymore," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But… I don't think I want to be like you."
The words settled between them like a final note in an unfinished song. The cannibal's expression remained unreadable, her eyes dark pools of something unreadable.
A quiet chuckle left her lips, but there was no humor in it. "Then you better learn to survive another way. Because in this place... mercy won't keep you alive."
And with that, she turned away, stepping into the flickering torchlight, leaving the girl with her unsteady thoughts and the slow, gnawing realization that she was further from home than she had ever been.