The Host

Boredom. That annoying, nagging itch, an unrelenting hunger gnawing away at her patience. Bloodshed and violence weren’t enough anymore—they were fleeting, like a fire that burned too fast. Ashes, gone with the breeze... No, she craved something deeper, something richer. Rich like blood. Something she could sink her claws into. Like flesh.

Ravana’s pace slowed as she descended into the volcanic tunnels. This place she knew, her uncle having brought her to examine the thriving herbs that grew within the fertile ground. But the tunnels? She was venturing within for the first time, alone. The air was thick and musky, a blend of sulfur and something far more intoxicating—metallic and sweet, tinged with despair. Fresh. It teased her senses, sent a ripple of thrill through her body. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, her lilac eyes narrowed to slits as she soaked in the scent with relish. It was familiar. But what did that really mean to her?

The sound reached her next—retching that echoed down the stone tunnels. It was the kind of noise that carried weakness. Sickness. Her lips pulled into a slow, amused grin, a twitch of excitement making her claws flex against the cool stone floor. It wasn’t quite a mere whimper of discomfort. This was something visceral, something begging to be explored. At least to Ravana. It was pain incarnate, wrapped in a voice wishing to hide.

As she rounded the corner, the sight of Abyssinica sprawled across the ground brought her to a halt. Her sibling—one of the brood she had been raised alongside—looked pitiful. Their fur was damp and matted with sweat, their breaths shallow and shuddering. The bile streaked with blood pooled beneath them, painting a grotesque masterpiece on the stone floor. Ravana tilted her head, her grin sharpening into something predatory, dagger-teeth gleaming as she approached. An artist’s glee quickened her pulse as she looked on.

Her tail flicked. Perfect.

“Oh, Abyss,” she crooned, her voice syrupy with false concern as she moved closer. “What have we here?” Her steps were deliberate, her gait unhurried. Each paw landed with grace, her claws clicking faintly against the stone as she prowled toward them. Her stolen healer’s pouch jangled softly at her side, a mockery of the role she played. Thanks to her uncle, she had plenty of things to experiment with.

She stopped just short of them, her nose twitching as she inhaled deeply, savoring the coppery tang of blood and sickness that clung to Abyss like a second skin. Her lips parted in a slow exhale, her gaze glinting with something between curiosity and delight. It smelled deathly in here, like an animal that would have liked to remain hidden until their final breath.

“Such a mess,” she murmured, her tone wistful as she crouched low. “You look like death itself dragged you halfway to the abyss, only to lose interest and toss you back out.” She tilted her head the other way, her grin widening as she leaned closer. “Ironic. Tragic. And yet…” So amusing.

Her paw reached out, the movement slow, almost delicate. She pressed it lightly against their fevered forehead, her claws brushing their fur with teasing pressure. Reminding them of their weakness and her current strength. “You’re burning up,” she said softly, her voice dipping lower, her eyes narrowing with wicked glee. “Come now, don’t keep me in suspense. What are you hiding in there? Is it poison? A bad meal? What sickness has gripped you?” She let her claws trail lazily down their trembling side as she circled them, the touch too heavy to be comforting. “Why hide from the scavengers that might feast on you? If you are to die, do so with dignity.” Wasn’t that the way nature worked?
She leaned in further, her nose hovering just above theirs as her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I hope you will cling to life, dear sibling.” Her breath was cool against their fevered skin, her tone laced with mockery and a strange, eerie tenderness.
A quiet chuckle slipped from her lips, a sound devoid of warmth. Her claws tapped against the stone floor, her tail flicking behind her as if this moment alone was enough to amuse her. “You’re not dying—not yet,” she said, her grin never faltering. Until she saw the writhing within her siblings' belly. “But maybe you’ll wish you were.”

Ravana’s head cocked to the side again, her lilac eyes glinting as she studied Abyss like a puzzle. The healer’s pouch at her side swayed as she shifted her weight, the tools within practically begging to be used. She inhaled deeply, savoring their pain as though it were a fine wine, her claws twitching against the stone. “Let me help,” she murmured, her voice a velvet caress. “I’ll make it memorable. I promise.”

Her grin widened, a dagger cloaked in sweetness, as she finally leaned back, giving Abyss just enough space to breathe—but not enough to escape.


"Ravana Seraphim Saxe"