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A Hunger That Knows Her Name

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I. Dawn That Refused to Break

Dawn crept over the ridge slowly, staining the clouds red without warmth. Elara woke before the light fully formed, breath catching on an inhale she didn’t remember choosing.

The sensation beneath her ribs had changed.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Recognition.

Something inside her chest moved with intention, testing the limits of bone.

She pressed her fingers to the scar beneath her sternum. Heat answered in measured pulses—patient, deliberate, aware.

Across the room, Kaeliah sharpened her blade. The sound was steady. Controlled. Each stroke exact.

“You breathed too fast in your sleep,” Kaeliah said without looking up.

“I was dreaming,” Elara replied.

“Dreaming,” Kaeliah repeated. “Or remembering?”

Elara didn’t answer. The difference had grown unreliable.

She shifted upright, and the air responded—subtle, but unmistakable. The room seemed to register her movement.

Kaeliah crossed the floor and placed a steaming cup in Elara’s hands. “Drink.”

Elara obeyed. Warmth settled her breathing, but the presence beneath her ribs pressed closer, attentive.

Kaeliah’s eyes flicked to Elara’s chest. “It moved again.”

A ripple crossed under the skin.

“It wants something,” Elara whispered.

Kaeliah’s jaw tightened. “Everything does.”

“No,” Elara said. “This feels like recognition.”

Kaeliah straightened, alert. “Then we deal with it before it decides for you.”

Elara tried to stand.

Her shadow lagged behind her—only a fraction of a second, but enough.

Kaeliah noticed. Looked away too quickly.

The shadow snapped back into place.

Elara felt cold settle deep in her bones.

Something was waking.

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