A scent was known to belong to monsters— rotting flesh, dried blood, and the ache of bloodlust. I never knew they existed until I caught it drifting on the wind, So I hunted it, clinging to the peace I’d fought so hard to keep. By the river, I met only my reflection. Quiet, solace in the stillness. And then that unfamiliar scent— one I never knew my body could harbor: rotting flesh, dried blood, and the ache of bloodlust. A shiver traced my spine.