Living Hunger

Frederique stared at the pale light filtering through her bedroom window, the events of the past days still lingering like a bruise on her mind. The encounter with Arno, the truth about being possessed, the monstrous hunger gnawing inside her... it was all too much to process.

And yet, she knew.

She couldn't stay ignorant anymore.

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.

When she opened it, Arno stood on the porch, hood pulled low over his raven-black hair despite the morning sun. His dark eyes met hers, holding that same unsettling sharpness... like he was always watching, always calculating.

But it wasn't Arno who caught her attention.

Behind him, a massive figure loomed.

Groff.

If the name hadn't sounded so blunt, almost laughably simple, she might've thought it was a joke. But nothing about the silent man looked humorous. He was massive, towering well over six feet with broad shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe. His skin was rough, with a grayish undertone, and his face was square, weathered, and expressionless.

Frederique felt a chill that had nothing to do with the hunger.

"What... is this?" she whispered, eyes narrowing.

Arno gave a half-smile.

"This is Groff. He's here to make sure nothing... bad happens. To you. Or from you."

Groff didn't speak, just nodded once.

Frederique's stomach twisted.

"I don't need a babysitter."

Arno raised a brow. "You don't. You need answers. And that's what we're giving you."

She hesitated. Then followed them into the street.

The walk through the streets was strangely quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Arno led the way, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, whistling a soft, tuneless melody. Groff followed behind them like a silent shadow.

Frederique couldn't take it anymore.

"What is all this? What am I part of?"

Arno slowed, glancing back at her with a curious tilt of his head.

"You're not part of anything. Yet."

"That's not an answer."

He sighed.

"Fine. You want the whole truth? Let's start with the basics. The world you thought you lived in? The one where monsters are just stories? That was the lie. This world..." He gestured around them vaguely, at the city streets, the people walking by obliviously. "...is much bigger than you think. Dangerous. Messy. Complicated."

"Like what? Ghosts? Vampires?"

"Vampires, yeah. Werewolves too. They mostly stick to their own, but some of them get... messy. Especially now that the Hunters have gotten bolder."

Frederique blinked. "Hunters?"

Arno nodded.

"Humans. Regular ones, mostly. Some with magic, but most are just... people. They think all supernatural beings need to be destroyed. Doesn't matter if you're dangerous or not. If you're different, you're on their list."

Frederique swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the presence lurking in her chest.

"What about me?"

Arno shrugged. "You? You're complicated. Fey-touched. Possessed, technically."

"Technically?"

"Yeah." His voice dropped slightly. "Possessed means you're still fighting for control. When you're... balanced, they call it being a Changeling. It means you and the thing inside you can coexist. Share the body. Work together."

Frederique felt a cold weight settle in her stomach.

"I don't want to share."

Arno's gaze softened.

"That's what everybody says at first."

They walked in silence for a moment before Frederique finally asked, "So... you too? You're a Changeling?"

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Yeah. My Fey's name is Arnatraax. Sounds dramatic, right? Most of us take Fey names when we stop... fighting. It's part of the deal. Makes things easier when you're dealing with the courts."

Frederique furrowed her brow.

"Courts?"

Arno nodded.

"The Fey are old. Older than most of the other monsters. They're not just random creatures... they've got structure. Politics. Rules. The bar we're going to tonight? It's part of the no Court. You'll meet some of the others. Hopefully, you won't try to eat them."

Frederique's breath caught. "Eat them?!"

Arno grinned.

"Relax. You probably won't."