Page 11 of Alien Prince's Cure

The dim lighting of our makeshift hideout — likely an old warehouse from the stray moonlight through the wooden slats — illuminated his worried features.

“You’re safe,” he assured, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

His touch was unexpectedly warm, grounding me in the present.

Yes, yes, that’s right, I thought. I had run into the street with Mayn and we… we found this empty warehouse.

Then I ended up in that dreamworld somehow…

My heart still raced, the vestiges of the nightmare lingering like a malevolent aftertaste. “It felt so real,” I murmured, my voice shaky.

Mayn’s eyes bore into mine, a mix of understanding and urgency. “The Vendikar toxin,” he said quietly, “it affects the mind as well as the body. Your nightmares are a manifestation of the transformation process.”

I shuddered, the memory of my distorted reflection fresh in my mind. “How do I stop it?”

“Fear not, for there is a way,” Mayn vowed, determination evident in his voice. “But you must trust me.”

Trust. He was asking a lot.

But if it meant I didn’t have to return to that maze, to that hellhole I’d just been trapped in, then I would do it.

I would do anything.

As it turned out, anything was exactly what was necessary.

* * *

The muted sounds of the city after dark enveloped us as Mayn and I continued to weave our way through its labyrinthine streets.

The distant hum of cars, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the soft murmurs of nighttime wanderers — all of it felt both familiar and strange.

The veil of darkness provided some sense of security, but it also deepened the mystery of my recent experience.

A peculiar sensation gnawed at the pit of my stomach — a hunger, but not the usual kind I was familiar with.

This was a raw, pulsating craving, almost primal in nature.

I tried to shake it off, attributing it to the stress of the day, but it persisted, growing more intense with each passing step.

We turned a corner, and the mouthwatering aroma of freshly grilled meat wafted through the air.

My senses seemed to heighten instantly.

Drawn to the scent like a moth to a flame, I spotted a street vendor ahead.

His makeshift stall was illuminated by the soft, golden glow of lanterns, revealing skewers of meat sizzling on a grill.

Without fully comprehending my own actions, my feet propelled me forward.

I could hear Mayn calling my name, but it was as if I was in a trance.

As I approached the stall, the vendor gave me an appreciative nod, likely assuming I was just another hungry customer.

But what I did next was far from normal.

In one swift motion, I lunged at the grill, grabbing a handful of the hot skewers.

I barely registered the sting of the heat against my skin as I tore into the meat, consuming it with a voracity that was alien to me — especially as a devout vegan!

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