THE LAST DAWN
Chapter 21: The Hunger Unleashed
The hall was empty.
The torches were dark. The chairs were gone. The masks were scattered on the floor, their empty eyes staring at the ceiling, their silent mouths gaping. The silver light had faded to nothing, swallowed by the darkness that pressed against Rowan from all sides.
He stood alone.
The knife was in his hand.
The hunger was in his chest.
The end was in his heart.
And then — he felt it.
The hunger.
Not sleeping. Not waiting. Not growing.
Waking.
It surged through him like fire through dry grass, like water through cracked stone, like blood through an open wound. His knees buckled. His breath caught. His vision blurred.
He fell to the floor.
The knife clattered against the stone.
The darkness swallowed him.
He dreamed.
He was standing in a field of ash. The sky was black. The ground was cracked. The air was thick with smoke. And before him, a door.
Not a door of wood or stone or iron.
A door of light.
Silver light.
Pulsing. Breathing. Hungry.
He walked toward it.
The ash crunched beneath his boots.
The hunger pulsed in his chest.
The door opened.
Beyond the door was darkness.
And in the darkness, a figure.
Not the man in white. Not the woman in red. Not the child of light.
A woman.
She was young — younger than Lyra, younger than Morwen, younger than anyone had a right to be. Her hair was black, her skin was pale, her eyes were silver.
She was the hunger.
She was the end.
She was the beginning.
“Hello, Rowan,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He woke.
Lyra was beside him.
Her silver eyes were wet.
“You were screaming,” she said.
“Dreaming.”
“Same thing.”
He sat up.
His body ached.
“The Council is gone.”
“I know.”
“The hunger is waking.”
“I know.”
“What do I do?”
She took his hands.
Her fingers were cold.
“You become the hunger. Or you become the end.”