BLACK DEVOUR

CHAPTER TEN

I jolted upright, gasping for air as my heart raced.

Sweat-soaked strands of hair clung to my damp forehead while I blinked away the lingering remnants of a terrifying nightmare.

Disoriented, I scanned the dimly lit bedroom, reassuring myself that I was safe within the confines of my lair.

Get a grip

I raked a trembling hand through my hair. Easier said than done when your subconscious insists on tormenting you with haunting visions of kaleidoscopic eyes and soul-shredding migraines.

An involuntary shiver coursed through me as the phantom echoes of that dispassionate baritone still reverberated in my skull.

Zelthrimir.

The name itself carried an otherworldly weight, an inherent power that strummed the cosmic strings on a visceral level. As if it wasn't merely a random collection of syllables, but an ancient, fundamental utterance woven into the very fabric of creation.

Resisting the urge to tumble down that hole, I slapped my clammy palms against my cheeks in a lame attempt to reset. "Focus up. You've got classes in..." I squinted at the blinding numbers on my nightstand.

Ah, crap.

I was already running a solid 30 minutes late, leaving no time for my usual minimal morning routine. Not that I was ever one for elaborate self-care - unless you counted aggressively smudging last night's raccoon-like eyeliner and mashing some dry shampoo into my greasy mess of hair as "self-care."

Leaping to my feet, I grabbed random clothing items and frantically wriggled into them. A Grey hoodie, acid-washed skinny jeans riddled with rips and holes, and my signature boots.

I beelined for the bathroom, shuffling awkwardly as I pulled my jeans up, nearly cracking my skull on the door frame in my hurry. Flicking on the light revealed the usual morning horror show in the unforgiving mirror.

"Damn, Hecate, you sexy beast," I crooned at my sallow, wild-eyed reflection, flashing a lopsided, feral grin. If Tim Burton's characters modeled for Hot Topic catalogs, I'd make the cut.

After a laborious three minutes of half-assed grooming - basically just smoothing my disastrous nest into a lopsided ponytail and dabbing concealer over my insomnia-plagued undereye circles - I gave up and bolted from the bathroom.

Bella wasn't in the living room, thank God. Today would be better maybe.

The brisk spring air reinvigorated me as I burst outside, gulping down the chilly, revitalizing gusts. My chapped lips stretched into a wolfish grin as the lingering tendrils of that jarring dream dissipated under the pale morning sunlight.

I set off at a brisk pace down the winding paths, enjoying the solitary crunch of my boots on the gravel and the whispers of wind caressing bare branches overhead.

There was something inexplicably calming about the early morning bustle, the surrounding energy abuzz with a subtle electric undercurrent only felt when the masses still slumbered. It was like the whole world took a collective breath, centering itself before the daily chaos.

Savoring the tranquility, I tuned into my body - the steady thrum of my heart, the cadence of my breathing, the graceful flex of muscles propelling me purposefully forward. Anxiety and darkness scattered like dandelion fluff, replaced by a burgeoning sense of fiery, primal clarity.

I am alive. I am awake. I am power and purpose and raw, unfiltered potential coiled into a force of nature.

The silent affirmation reverberated through my being, a quietly defiant anthem rebelling against demons trying to smother my flames. Because even in my darkest melancholy, that smoldering ember never truly extinguished - merely lying dormant, awaiting the catalyst to burst into an all-consuming wildfire.