Dark Hunger part 2

 Shadows of the Anduin: A Tale of Mirkwood, part 2

The forest floor was damp with dew, mirroring the wet earth piled over Aerin’s hastily dug grave. Tauriel knelt before the simple cairn, her hands clasped, not in prayer, but in a desperate, silent plea for forgiveness. Tears, cold and stark as winter rain, streamed down her pale cheeks. She felt no hunger now, only a crushing, hollow grief, a vast echoing emptiness that dwarfed the physical void within her. The scent of blood, so intoxicating just hours before, now filled her with self-loathing.

“Such sorrow, little warrior. A waste of such keen emotion.”

The voice, silken and familiar, cut through the quiet despair. Tauriel’s head snapped up. Rhûn stood at the edge of the clearing, seemingly materializing from the mist that clung to the ancient trees. He wore the same dark cloak, but his eyes, predatory and knowing, now held a glint of something akin to pity, or perhaps, possessive satisfaction. Rage, cold and pure, surged through Tauriel, eclipsing her grief for a brutal moment. She sprang to her feet, her new strength a startling surge through her limbs. Her fangs instinctively extended, her claws flared.

“What have you done to me?!” she snarled, her voice a raw rasp, deeper than she remembered. “You… monster! You took everything!”

Rhûn did not flinch from her fury. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice a quiet murmur that held an unsettling power. “I have given you a gift, Tauriel. You are Nosferatu now. A creature of the night, yes, but so much more than what you were.”

He gestured around them, encompassing the fading Mirkwood. “This world dies, little Elf. The light recedes. But you… you may now endure. As long as you feed, regularly and discreetly, you will find new senses, new speed, strength beyond anything you possessed. The shadows are your allies, the darkness your mantle. Healing, impossible for others, will be but a fleeting inconvenience for you. You will know no illness, no decay, no death by the slow hand of time.”

His words, meant to entice, only fuelled her incandescent fury. “A gift? This is a curse! How do I undo this? How do I lift this… this blight from my soul? Why did you do this to me?!”

Rhûn finally stepped fully into the clearing, his gaze holding hers. “Because I was drawn to you, Tauriel. In a world full of fading echoes and forgotten passions, you burned with a fierce, untamed spirit. You kindled a desire within me that I have not felt in many centuries. You are not a pawn, nor a mere vessel, but a reflection of a wildness I thought lost.”

He paused, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something almost human—or perhaps, something even older and more profound—crossed his features. “I chose you. And I chose you because I wish for you to join me.”

He extended a pale hand towards her, his palm open, an invitation that shimmered with dark promise. “Come, Tauriel. Leave this dying forest, these fleeting memories. Step into the true night, with me. The world holds wonders and horrors beyond your current imagining. We could explore them, together. You are no longer bound by the petty concerns of your former kin.”

Tauriel stared at his outstretched hand. A strange, undeniable pull echoed within her new, cold heart. Her instincts, twisted and reforged, recognized a kinship, a terrible power. To be alone in this new state felt like an eternal torment, but to join the creature who had wrought this devastation…

She hesitated, her gaze dropping from his hand to Aerin’s fresh grave, then back to the mesmerizing, dangerous eyes of Rhûn. The forest held its breath, waiting for her choice. The terrible hunger for companionship warred with the primal scream of her lost Elven soul.