Chapter 11: The Hunger Within

The struggle began the moment Thorne felt the snap of Alina's jaw far too close to her face.

Alina had always been weak—her body slow to adjust, her muscles barely retaining their former function. But now, she moved with an unnatural force, her hands like vices as she clawed at Thorne's robes. They tumbled to the floor, the impact jarring as Thorne's back slammed against the cold stone.

With wild, empty eyes, Alina straddled her, forcing Thorne's shoulders against the ground. Her breathing was ragged, lips parted to reveal sharp teeth she hadn't had before.

Thorne barely had time to process that before Alina lunged again, jaw snapping forward.

Thorne barely managed to shove a forearm between them, keeping Alina's gnashing teeth just inches from her throat. She pushed against her student's neck, using her greater leverage to hold her back. But—gods above—why was she so strong?

Alina's fingers dug into her arms, her grip bruising despite her normally frail strength. This wasn't the movement of a confused, desperate girl. This was hunger. Pure, mindless hunger.

"Alina—listen to me!" Thorne gritted out, trying to hold her back. Her feet scrambled for purchase on the floor as Alina thrashed.

No response.

"You need to fight this! You're not an animal—!"

Alina snarled, eyes wild and vacant, and pushed harder.

A thin strand of drool hung from her lips, stretching until it snapped—landing hot and wet on Thorne's cheek.

Something in Thorne snapped with it.

Filthy.

With a snarl of her own, Thorne twisted her hips, using the momentum to shove Alina off her. As the girl tumbled, Thorne gripped her by the collar and hurled her into the nearest shelf.

Glass shattered. The heavy wood trembled under the impact, sending vials and jars crashing to the floor.

Alina crumpled amidst the wreckage, twitching, her fingers curling like a wounded beast. But Thorne knew better than to assume she was down for good.

"Restraints—" she thought, reaching through her mental link to call her undead. But before she could even think about leaving the room—

—Alina lunged again.

She moved faster.

Thorne barely had time to pivot before the force of the impact drove her backward. She barely had time to register the sharp, biting pain as her back slammed into another set of shelves—more vials shattering against her skin.

A wet, searing burn began to spread across her back.

Thorne gasped, arching off the shelf, but Alina was still there. Snapping. Clawing. Desperate.

Pain flared as some of the shattered glass embedded itself in her flesh, but worse—so much worse—was the feeling of something seeping into her wounds.

Dark liquid dripped from the shelves. The acrid scent of dangerous chemicals filled the air. She felt the burn creep deeper, something unnatural curling inside her veins.

But there was no time to dwell on it—

Alina's teeth went for her neck.

Thorne grabbed the first unbroken glass bottle she could reach and slammed it against Alina's temple.

The impact was enough to make Alina stumble, her body swaying from the blow. It bought Thorne the precious few seconds she needed.

She pushed Alina off, took a staggering step back, and began chanting.

Cold magic curled around her fingertips as she wove a spell of restraint. Thick, invisible tendrils of necrotic energy formed, reaching for Alina's limbs, coiling to hold her in place.

And then—

A growl. Deep. Inhuman.

The sound reverberated through the air, curling under her skin.

For a second, everything froze.

Then—pain.

Magic backlashed violently through her body, ripping her focus apart. The spell shattered in her hands like brittle glass.

A sharp, splitting pain cracked through her skull, as if something had reached inside her mind and clawed through it.

Thorne staggered.

Her vision swam. Her nose bled.

And Alina was still there. Still moving.

The hunger in her eyes was relentless.

And Thorne, for the first time in years, realized—

She might actually be in danger.