Chapter 12 – Signs of Hunger
It started with the smell.
At first, Kael thought it came from outside—maybe mold from the herb racks, or a half-rotted satchel left too long in the damp.
But the smell followed him.
A sweetness, faintly metallic. Like overripe fruit soaked in blood.
He tried to ignore it.
By the fourth night after the Ironblood Bloom incident, Kael hadn't slept more than a few hours.
The Nameless Verse still yielded nothing but headaches. His body felt lighter, yes—but not in the way of progress. It was a hollowing.
His appetite vanished.
His hands trembled when holding a cup of broth.
Even his breath felt… too loud.
He sat in his chamber long after curfew, cross-legged, bones aching, trying again to align the flow Elric spoke of.
Let the breath follow the root...
But the verse scattered in his mind like dry leaves in wind.
A whisper slid through the back of his skull.
Not your voice.
Not your words.
He flinched.
Silence.
He looked down at his satchel.
Hesitated.
Then opened it.
The bottle was glowing faintly—again. But not from within.
Tiny specks of silver light hovered in the room, like scattered dust, swirling slowly toward the bottle. One by one, they were drawn in. Absorbed.
Kael's breath hitched.
The bottle was breathing.
He rose without realizing it, backing away until his spine touched the far wall.
It didn't stop.
The air in the room thinned, cold curling along the base of his skull.
He gritted his teeth and strode forward, grabbing the bottle.
As soon as his fingers touched the glass, the light vanished.
Stillness returned.
So did the smell.
Sweet.
Sour.
Wrong.
A knock shattered the silence.
Kael jumped.
The door creaked open.
Bren leaned in, candle in hand.
His eyes narrowed. "Were you... talking?"
Kael shook his head. Too fast.
"No."
Bren didn't enter.
His gaze lingered.
"You alright?"
Kael nodded.
Too fast again.
Bren didn't push it.
He let the silence stretch.
Then, quietly: "Elric says most people crack at the wrong layer. Sometimes the damage doesn't show for weeks."
Kael said nothing.
Bren nodded once. "Just don't wait too long to ask for help. Even pride has limits."
He left.
Kael remained in place, staring at the door.
Then at the bottle in his hand.
He didn't uncork it.
Didn't put it away either.
He just held it.
Not like a tool.
Not like a gift.
Like a thing that knew his name better than he did.