I didn’t just "hit" Finn with the void. I tasted him.
The drain wasn't a slam; it was a slow, agonizing unraveling. I felt my consciousness hook into his, dragging out his memories like barbed wire through my throat. I saw his first hunt, the way he looked at a girl named Lyra in the kitchens, the pride he felt when Silas first called him a warrior.
I was eating his life, and for the first time, I couldn't pretend it was an accident. My hands were locked onto his chest, my fingers sinking into his flesh as if it were soft wax.
"Finn! No!" Sarah, Finn’s mother, let out a sound that didn't belong in a human throat. She lunged forward, her hands clawing at the air, but the gray mist surrounding us felt like a wall of frozen glass.
"Silas, do something!" Marek screamed, his voice cracking
