Page 175 of Demon’s Snack

I feel it pushing at my mind, trying to overwrite instinct with instinct, trying to make my thoughts dissolve into pure consumption. The pressure inside my skull spikes so violently that my vision doubles. The hunger under my skin surges in answer, eager to accept the thing’s ancient authority because part of me understands it.

That understanding terrifies me more than the creature itself.

Isolde’s hands remain pressed against my chest.

The bond burns bright through the chaos, threading her pulse through mine with fierce precision. I cling to that rhythm while the devourer batters against the inside of my head like a storm trying to rip a door from its hinges.

“Corin,” she says sharply.

Her voice cuts through the pressure.

I drag my eyes toward her.

Rain streaks down her face. Ash smudges one cheek. Her gray dress is soaked through, clinging to her arms and throat while black-gold fire reflects in her eyes. She looks frightened enough to shake apart, but her hands stay steady against me.

“Stay here,” she says.

The devourer hisses through my mind.

Mine.

Feed.

Take.

The alien hunger rolls through me in waves, trying to drown my thoughts under instinct and appetite. It wants the crowd. It wants the district. It wants the souls packed behind Rhazek’s wardline. It wants Isolde most of all because the stabilizing resonance between us feels rare and powerful and alive.

Rage explodes through me so fast it clears my head for one brutal second.

No.

The word tears out of me aloud.

The courtyard shakes.

Black-gold flame erupts around my body in a spiraling wave that forces several nobles backward. The devourer’s fractured form convulses above the summoning circle, reacting to the refusal like a hooked animal jerking against a spear.

Rhazek’s voice cuts across the storm. “Corin!”

“I hear you!”

“It is attempting dominance through resonance memory.”

“Yeah,” I snarl, smoke and sparks ripping out with the words. “I noticed.”

The devourer slams another pulse into my core.

Agony lances through my chest. My back arches involuntarily as the creature tries to widen the tether again, trying to make room for itself inside me. The hunger answers with violent instinct, eager to tear back, eager to swallow until the threat disappears.

The easiest thing would be rejection.

Force it out.

Expel the whole screaming mass into the storm and let the courtyard deal with the aftermath.

The moment the thought forms, I see exactly where that path ends. The devourer detonating loose across the district. Soul-energy ripping through civilians. The veil widening instead of closing. Vaerith’s story becoming truth in front of every witness present.

Monster loses control.