Chapter-19 The Art Of Consumption

Frederique sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of Lysandro's workshop, the air heavy with a mix of burnt herbs, melted wax, and something metallic... like the scent before a storm. A dozen candles lined the edges of the circular room, their flames barely flickering despite the complete absence of windows. The hunger gnawed at her chest, constant but restrained. For the first time, it wasn't screaming for control.

But it was still there. Always waiting.

Across from her, Lysandro perched on a high-backed chair, upholstered in crushed purple velvet, one leg crossed over the other. His hair was tied back, and his tailored purple suit shimmered faintly in the dim candlelight. His fingers drummed against the armrest in a slow, patient rhythm. Watching. Measuring.

"Again."

Frederique clenched her fists against her knees, inhaling deeply through her nose as she had been taught.

Before her, the shimmering figure of pale light reappeared... a flickering illusion of a young man, trembling, wide-eyed, his spectral form almost see-through. It was more than just a visual projection. She could feel his fear radiating like heat from a fire.

"Focus on the emotion. Not the shape," Lysandro reminded, his voice calm but unyielding. "You're not feeding on flesh. You're feeding on what lingers. Taste it, draw it in. But stay in control."

Frederique closed her eyes and let her senses expand.

The fear called to her like a scent... bitter, electric, and sharp. She felt it pressing on her, tingling at the edge of her awareness, just out of reach. The hunger stirred, responding to it like a predator catching a scent.

A wisp of pale mist coiled from the illusion's chest, curling toward her.

The hunger wanted more.

' Take it. '

Frederique inhaled, and the mist drifted closer, drawn to her. As it touched her lips, warmth spread through her limbs, a strange, soothing sensation that seemed to fill the void inside her.

The mist dissolved.

The illusion faded.

She opened her eyes, breath steady but heart pounding.

Lysandro stared at her with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey. Then, slowly, he gave a single nod.

"Better. You're starting to feel it now. That was controlled, careful. But... "

Frederique braced for the criticism she knew was coming.

"It was still..." He waved his hand in the air as if plucking the right word from the air. "...weak."

Frederique's jaw clenched. "I fed. I controlled it."

"Yes. And that control is valuable. But you can't afford to keep holding back. The hunger is a blade... sharp but effective. If you never learn to push, it'll fail you when you need it most."

He gestured sharply, and Groff emerged from the shadows near the entrance, silent as ever. The troll-like fey approached with a measured calm, his heavy steps echoing through the stone chamber. In his large hand, he carried a gleaming silver dagger.

Frederique tensed as he handed it to Lysandro without a word.

The Redcap twirled the blade lazily between his fingers. The silver caught the candlelight with each rotation, dancing reflections across the stone floor.

Lysandro held the dagger out to her.

"Take it."

Frederique hesitated before grasping the cold hilt, her pulse quickening.

The illusion reappeared... a pale, shaking figure, clutching his chest as if on the verge of tears. His entire being radiated raw fear.

Lysandro's voice lowered to a whisper.

"Make him feel it. Do not touch him. Do not harm him. But you will make him believe you could."

Frederique blinked, confused. "You... want me to threaten him? I thought you said feeding on violence was reckless."

He shook his head. "I'm not asking you to harm. I'm teaching you to evoke. Emotions feed us. What better way to feed than to inspire the feast yourself? Fear. Dread. Terror."

Frederique stared at the illusion.

It was just a trick. A magical projection. Not real.

She gripped the dagger tighter, the cold pressing into her palm.

The hunger stirred again, whispering, "Let me show you. Let me feed. "

' No. Not yet. '

Her lips curled into a faint snarl.

She stepped toward the illusion, towering over it, tilting the dagger so it caught the light just enough to glint menacingly. The illusion's trembling increased.

A thin ribbon of pale mist seeped from its chest.

But it wasn't enough.

Lysandro clicked his tongue.

"Pathetic. You're showing it a weapon, but you don't believe you could use it. You're holding back. This is not kindness, Frederique. It is weakness."

The words struck deeper than she expected.

The hunger surged again.

' Let me show you how to take. '

Her breathing deepened.

This time, she didn't resist.

Her grip shifted, and something primal uncoiled inside her.

Her smile widened... too wide. Teeth shifted, sharpening just slightly.

The illusion's eyes bulged.

The mist surged.

The hunger purred.

Frederique inhaled, and the mist flowed toward her faster, drawn in deeper this time. Her skin prickled as the fear was consumed, filling her with a rush of warmth and power. It wasn't just satisfying... it felt right.

When the last of the mist dissolved, Frederique blinked.

The illusion was gone.

The hunger was quiet.

Lysandro nodded, folding his arms. "Now you understand."

Frederique exhaled, the dagger trembling slightly in her hand.

"I… I didn't hurt him."

Lysandro's sharp smile returned.

"No. But you made him afraid. You drew out what you needed without breaking him. And you controlled it. That, Frederique, is how a predator truly feeds. Not with violence. With presence."

She looked down at the dagger, a knot tightening in her chest.

"But I felt the hunger push. It wanted more."

Lysandro shrugged. "It always will. Control is not denying the hunger. It's wielding it. You're learning. But you're far from ready."

He gestured to Groff, who stepped forward again.

"Take her to the next chamber. The real lesson begins now."

Frederique's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

Lysandro's grin widened.

"You've learned to taste fear."

The candles around them flared brighter.

"Now, we see if you can endure it."