“I have seen your mind, Claire,” continued the Vesper. He hadn’t blinked once since the start of our conversation. “You know what it is like to be weak. To be desperate. Imagine that weakness and desperation, combined with pain. Every second of your existence consumed with an ache that burns like acid in your stomach. Constant hunger, giving up your own blood to feed your own.”
The Vesper’s grip tightened. The fabric of the tunic ripped, but my skin remained intact. For now. He bent closer. I choked on bile and the smell of blood and rot as he swarmed me.
“You have endured hardships, Claire. But you know little of true pain.”
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