The morning sun spilled over the thatched roofs of Eldervale, painting the village in shades of gold and amber. Smoke from hearth fires rose lazily into the sky, carrying the scent of fresh bread and burning oak. To most, it was just another day of harvest and laughter, of gathering water from the well and tending to fields.
But to Arden, every sunrise was a reminder that he was not alone inside his own skin.
For five years, a voice had lived within him, sometimes silent, sometimes whispering hunger. Today, the whisper was louder.
"Blood… just a little taste…"
His grip tightened on the wooden bucket he carried, knuckles whitening as he forced himself to breathe. He was on his way to the river, just as any teenager in Eldervale might do, but his mind was not calm.
He paused at the edge of the path, eyes scanning the trees. For a moment, the world seemed sharper: the rustle of wings above, the heartbeat of a rabbit hiding in the underbrush, the faint pulse of life in every villager he had passed earlier. The demon made him feel it all.
"Not today," he muttered under his breath, pushing the voice away.
The villagers smiled at him as he walked by, unaware of the battle raging within. To them, he was just nineteen, a quiet boy who had grown too quickly into a man. No one knew the truth. No one saw the shadow behind his calm eyes.
At the riverbank, he knelt and dipped the bucket into the cool water. His reflection rippled back at him his own face, dark hair falling loosely over his brow… and then, for a breath, not his face at all. Red eyes. A grin too sharp to be human.
He stumbled back, water sloshing onto the dirt.
"You can't hide me forever," the voice hissed, curling in his chest like smoke. "One day, they'll see what you are."
A shout broke the silence.
"Arden! Are you coming?"
He turned to see Maya, his childhood friend, waving at him from the road. She was balancing a basket of herbs against her hip, smiling in the way only she could, bright, untroubled, unafraid.
For a moment, the whispers retreated. He forced a smile and waved back. "Coming!"
But as he lifted the bucket, his hands still trembled. He knew the demon was right about one thing. He couldn't hide it forever.
And sooner or later… Eldervale would learn the truth.
Arden carried the full bucket back toward the village, each step heavier than the last. Maya walked beside him, humming softly as she adjusted the herbs in her basket. Her presence steadied him, she had always been his anchor, the one bright thing that kept the whispers from swallowing him whole.
They passed the village square, where children chased each other in circles, their laughter ringing like bells. A blacksmith hammered steel in rhythm nearby, sparks flying into the air. For a moment, Arden almost let himself believe he was just another villager.
"Arden," Maya said suddenly, her tone half-scolding. "You've been so quiet lately. Even more than usual."
He forced a chuckle. "Maybe I've run out of things to say."
Her sharp eyes narrowed. "Or maybe you're hiding something again."
He looked away, heart pounding. She had always seen too much.
Before he could answer, a shriek cut across the square. One of the children had tripped, skinning her knee on the cobblestones. The girl sat crying as a few villagers rushed to her side. Arden's gaze fell on the wound.
And then it happened.
The world slowed. He could hear the girl's heartbeat—fast, panicked. He could smell the iron tang of blood from where he stood. His chest burned as the demon stirred awake.
"Yes… fresh… take it."
Arden staggered, clutching the bucket so tightly the wood creaked. His vision blurred, and for a heartbeat, his hands were not his own, clawed, darkened, trembling with hunger.
"Arden?" Maya's voice pierced through, sharp with worry.
He blinked, and the claws were gone. The bucket slipped from his grip and crashed to the ground, spilling water across the dirt. Villagers turned to stare. His breath came ragged, his body shaking.
"I….I'm fine," he forced out, though his voice was strained.
Maya stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. Her touch was warm, grounding, but her eyes searched his face with quiet fear. "No, you're not."
The demon's laughter echoed in his skull, low and mocking. "Sooner or later, they will see. And when they do… There will be no turning back."
Arden clenched his jaw, leaning to steady himself as whispers of suspicion rippled through the onlookers. He had sworn never to let the demon take control. But in that moment, as the taste of blood lingered in the air, he realized something terrifying. His control was slipping. And Eldervale was no longer safe.
That night, Arden lay awake in the small wooden house he called home. The moonlight slipped through the cracks in the shutters, painting pale lines across the floor. He should have been sleeping. Instead, he sat at the edge of his bed, fists clenched.
"You almost had them today," the demon purred inside him, its voice like oil sliding over fire. "One little slip, and the truth would have spilled out. Imagine their faces when they see you for what you really are."
"Shut up," Arden hissed under his breath. "I won't let you take control."
"Won't let me? You can't stop me, boy. Every heartbeat, every drop of blood calls to us both. You feel it, don't you? That hunger? That power? You're mine."
Arden buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his temples as if he could squeeze the voice out. "No. I'm not yours. I'll fight you until the end."
The demon chuckled, low and cold. "Fight all you want. The day will come when you beg me to take over."
The laughter faded into silence, but the echo remained, gnawing at him. Arden lay back at last, staring at the ceiling. His body was trembling, not from fear but from the truth he didn't want to admit..
