⚔️ **CHAPTER 17 — What the Hungry Accept**
By the second night, hunger stopped being quiet.
It pressed behind Kael's eyes, dulled his thoughts, slowed his steps. Each breath felt slightly heavier than the last, as if the air itself required payment.
Rain had washed the world clean—too clean.
The land darkened underfoot. Soil turned almost black, rich and soft, leaving deep impressions with every step. Strange plants grew here, thick-stemmed and broad-leafed, their surfaces glossy as if oiled.
Kael remembered the warning.
*Don't eat what grows there.*
He kept walking.
His legs shook.
*You're burning reserves,* the second voice said. *Both of ours.*
"I know," Kael whispered.
By dawn, he collapsed near a low ridge. His hands trembled as he tried to stand again—and failed.
For a long moment, he lay there staring at the dark soil, breathing shallowly.
Survival was no longer a concept.
It was a demand.
Kael pushed himself up and studied the plants. One bore pale, berry-like clusters, faintly glowing. Another had roots that bled clear sap where the earth had split.
"I won't take much," Kael said—to the world, or to himself.
*This ground remembers,* the second voice warned. *It takes as much as it gives.*
Kael hesitated.
Then he reached out.
The berries were warm. Too warm. When he bit into one, sweetness flooded his mouth—sharp, immediate, intoxicating.
His body reacted instantly.
Strength surged back into his limbs. His breathing steadied. Color returned to the world, edges sharpening unnaturally.
Kael gasped. "That's—"
*Stop,* the voice urged. *Now.*
But hunger had already learned the taste.
Kael ate three more.
The land shuddered.
Not violently.
Like something shifting its attention.
Kael staggered back, wiping his mouth. His pulse hammered—not with panic, but with *clarity*. Too much clarity. Every sound felt too loud. Every shadow too deep.
The black soil rippled.
A shape rose slowly from the ground where the plants had been disturbed—not a creature, not fully. More like a memory given form. Its outline wavered, face indistinct, mouth unmoving.
Yet Kael heard it clearly.
> "You accepted."
"I had no choice," Kael said, steadying himself.
The shape tilted its head.
> "Hunger is always a choice."
Kael's borrowed power stirred violently, reacting to something older than seals or councils.
*This place marks those who take from it,* the second voice said quietly. *We've been seen.*
The shape sank back into the soil, leaving the plants untouched—as if they had never been harmed.
Kael stood alone again.
But the strength didn't fade.
That frightened him more than weakness ever had.
As he walked on, he noticed changes.
His steps no longer tired him. His wounds closed faster. The world felt closer, thinner—like a veil stretched too tight.
And somewhere far away, something that hunted *anomalies* changed direction.
Kael touched his chest, feeling two heartbeats—not separate, but no longer perfectly aligned.
"I won't do that again," he said.
The second voice did not answer.
Not because it was gone—
But because it was **listening to something else**.
And behind Kael, faint footprints appeared in the black soil.
Not following.
Keeping pace.
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