The bandaged creature crashed its hand down on the roof and in a flurry of motions, Svet dodged out of the way. He didn't notice the flesh, which had fallen on the garden grounds, bulging and expanding. Giggles reached a shrill pitch as the spirit raised its hand. The wads of muscle flew toward the spirit, hovered in its palm, and melted together. Svet’s thin frown erupted into a smile once the flesh grafted itself back into the creature’s body.

The exorcists shivered and Kane could feel the hairs on the back of their necks standing on edge. His real son had never made such a face before. No- What was smiling, maddened by the marvel before him, simply wasn't human at all.

“You have lived long enough to heal yourself,” Svet mused, his gaze glinting with a maddened glow. “How… exquisite. Yet deeply saddening. 

Svet chuckled, wide-eyed and hungry.

“You will be a delicious meal,” Svet said, full of promise and reverence. “I should consume you quickly.”

“Stop him!” Kane shouted, and all the exorcists stopped their chanting and defenses. They brought their focus over to Svet. “Before he-“

But it was too late.

Svet raised his dagger and the blade cast a ray of light across the golden coins on his torso. Then, after a loud ring, blood ran down his blade. The blazing red liquid welled into a fat drop at the tip before it fell to the ground. And he sheathed it soon after, graceful and practiced.

Everyone's gut fell to the ground. They stood there open-mouthed and too afraid to breathe.

It was quiet.

The haunting spirit quivered, confused by the growing resignation in Svet’s stance. Once it opened its mouth to speak, multiple wounded appeared on its form. Blood oozed out from its form, zig-zagging from all angles.

It blinked. “Huh?" 

With a skip in his step, Svet was standing at its side. He was a tiny spec compared to the towering entity, but the cold and sweet expression on his face made him seem bigger.

“Your starvation ends here,” Svet said, steady with every word.

The spirit’s many pupils shrank, floating eyes widening. And the fear set in.

“GO AWAYYYY!” it screamed. It lunged away from the teen. A hand that no longer resembled one scratched at the roof so that it could crawl away. It's fingers were held together by strips of flesh. The bones protruded from red nubs. “NOOO!”

Svet laughed at the childish wail, and it managed to drag itself toward the ledge.

“No? Oh, precious child, you don't have a choice,” Svet said with mirth.

He meandered toward the fleeing spirit. The exorcists below recoiled, and flesh squelched after Svet dug his boots onto its back. Svet was oh-so-tiny atop its bleeding body, but somehow, he managed to look so… heavy. Overbearing. Suffocating. 

The spirit scrambled and countless eyes burned atop them. Watching. 

Svet slowly peered down at every exorcist, his glowing gaze joining the observer suspended in the air. He tilted his head and grinned. His eyes glowed an eery shade of gold. It was warm in color, but whatever gentleness he may have had before was gone. “Look away, little fools.”

It was not a demand. It was not a tender request. It was a heed of precaution, to save themselves the sight.

Kane didn't need any other warning, commanding his exorcists in a haggard voice, “… Shield your eyes…”

And they did. Every single one.

Laughter and shrieks of pain reverberated through the garden. It mingled with the splattering tug of skin and the impact of limbs. The sounds reached a feverish pitch until the laughter became more child-like and cold. The spirit was laughing, too, in its agony. And even as Svet ate away, it lived on and thrashed.

“That’s it! Fight! Live! Within me!” he shouted, cackling until the sun fell over the horizon.

Finally, all that was left was the stillness that came after death.

Svet stood atop the roof with his robes awash with blood and clumps of meat. His face had raised skyward after eating his fill, and hundreds of eyes littered the space around him. Staring, sharp, and awaiting his call: He was surrounded by the faces of children. 

This moment would have been considered peaceful if not for the rush of consciousness that wracked his mind. His fingers wouldn't stop shaking as the world spun around him and a thick, cold substance slide down his palms. 

And he blinked.

Suddenly, he felt so awake and he crumbled onto his knees. He inhaled deeply and it sounded hoarse and choked. Pain coursed through the veins in his lungs while they struggled to catch up with the lack of oxygen he amassed under the influence of something beyond his control, of someone he wasn’t.

He panted laboriously for a while. Enough that the sky reddened with orange, purple, and pink hues. His hands clenched at the broken wood of the roof, tears rolling down his nose, landing on the back of his bloodied palms. He could faintly hear bodies approaching him. 

"F-Father... What have I done?" He felt their countless faces. The living and dead alike watched the bloody puddle around him rippling while he shook, his body bitten by the cold night breeze. Even if it was just mere moments, his arm had a mind of it's own. "I don't- Why? What do I do? How-"

"Svet. "

Kane placed a hand on Svet’s shoulder, but he could not even give his son the answers. The tight clench that followed, however, weighed down on the teen.

There was something inside him that was too powerful to be contained, something that drove past instincts and memory alike. Now that his body had a taste of being full, he knew it would be nearly impossible avoiding another accident.

And Svet could see it happening again.  

Because the souls were so, so tasty.

Nila, standing behind father and son, was the first to interrupt their silent exchange. “Sir, he doesn't have much time left before...."

"I know," his father said.

Kane stared down at the back of his son's head.

“I know.”