Hunger is Killing us

The moon hung low over the land, its red glow piercing the thick swirling mist that clung to the ruins below.

Yelian stood at the cliff’s edge, the wind whipping at his cloak, staring down at the shadowed remains of what was once their thriving dominion. Their world, once a labyrinth of towering obsidian spires and bridges woven with silver, now lay in eerie silence. The scent of blood, once abundant in the air, had long since faded.

“We have gone too long without feeding, Salvatore. If nothing is done we will cease to exist,” Yelian’s voice was heavy, his eyes reflecting the red hue of the moon’s light.

Behind him, Salvatore stood with his arms crossed, his expression grim yet resolute. He had heard these words before—whispered in the dark halls, hissed in council chambers where desperation outweighed reason.

Salvatore exhaled slowly. “I know that Yelian, we are doing all we can to handle it. I’m close to a real solution.”

Yelian turned slightly, eyeing him. “Close isn’t good enough. We are on the edge of ruin. Our people grow weaker by the night, and soon, they will break. Have you not heard them? The whispers of those who would rather burn than waste away?”

Salvatore had heard. The younger ones—reckless, frenzied—were already losing control. Some were taking from others, denying them sustenance. Others had vanished into the wilds, succumbing to madness. If the starvation continued, it would not be long before they became nothing more than feral creatures, shadows of what they once were.

But Salvatore had not been idle. He had spent weeks, months, poring over the forgotten chambers of their archives, searching through ancient texts, lost knowledge buried by time. He scrolled through countess old pictures of Sigils and foreign words. Most paths led to dead ends—until now. The final piece had fallen into place, it was just a matter of understanding what he found.

He needed insight.

So, he sought out Vael, the only one left who might still remember.

Vael lived in the ruins of an old tower, far beyond the remnants of their city. Vale was the oldest of them that was still alive, one of the last keepers of their true history.

Once a formidable figure, now he was withered, his long silver hair draped over his skeletal frame. But his mind remained sharp, his hunger not yet turning him into a husk.

Salvatore placed the parchment before him, the worn edges curling with time. “Tell me what you see.”

Vael’s bony fingers traced the inked lines. “A world drowned in water,” he murmured, his voice like a small echo. His pale grey eyes flickered with something —recognition, perhaps even longing. “I’ve seen this before.”

Salvatore leaned forward. “Where?”

Vael exhaled slowly. “Not where, but when. This world—its existence was only whispered among the ancients. It was supposed to be our eternal food source but it was said to be unreachable, the intelligent beings there were too…difficult. We feared they could not be compelled to serve as a willing source of sustenance, so we abandoned the idea.”

“We?” Salvatore asked, confused.

“The council, boy. Do not be naive enough to believe this hunger crisis is new. We always feared our food source would dwindle, but we believed we would find a solution before that day came. If you pursue this idea, you must be willing to sacrifice everything.”

“Vael, I have a lot to lose if I don’t. A family. I will do whatever it takes to ensure they don’t fade away.”

Vael studied him for a long moment before nodding. He rose slowly his bones creaking, and Salvatore moved to steady him.
“There is a way. A path hidden beneath the currents, a cycle we once used to travel between worlds.”

“A cycle?” Salvatore pressed.

Vael nodded, shuffling to a chest hidden beneath a crooked bell in the tower. He retrieved a stack of ancient texts, their covers worn by centuries of neglect. He spread them across the table, pointing to an intricate diagram.

“This,” Vael said, tracing the circular inscription, “is a cycle.”

Around it there were twelve smaller sigils connected to form a ring.

“Once every full moon, a path to a cycle opens. Think of it like a gate and each leads to a different world. There are twelve worlds close to us, each accessible only once every twelve moons. The next opening…” His voice dropped lower. “...It will lead to a place they call Earth.”

Salvatore stared at the parchment. The ink, the sigils, the forgotten words—they all made sense now. This was it.

But then Vael’s expression darkened. “But it is not without cost.”

Salvatore looked up. “What cost?”

“The cycles demand a toll,” Vael murmured. “Once you pass through, you have only till the next cycle before you have to return. If you don’t return by that time, you will not at all.”

Salvatore rose abruptly. “I need to go.”

Vael’s voice stopped him. “Do not be reckless, Salvatore. You need a plan and not just that, a good plan. Everything must fit in perfectly including the journey back. Be sure of this before you do anything.”

Salvatore hesitated only a moment before meeting Vael’s gaze. “If I do nothing, we won’t survive long enough for it to matter.”

Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted down the stairs, his steps echoing against the cold stone. He wasn’t as fast as he once was, the hunger drained his strength, but urgency propelled him forward. By the time he reached Yelian’s chambers, his body ached, yet exhilaration burned in his veins.

Bursting through the door, he found Yelian staring out of the window, lost in thought.

“I have it,” Salvatore declared, his voice sharp with conviction.

Yelian’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“A way to survive. A way to end our suffering.”

“What is it this time Salvatore? All your ideas have failed.”

Salvatore stepped forward and held out a worn, yellowed parchment. On it, an image, the shape of a world, full of water.

Yelian studied the image, his expression shifting as Salvatore explained the plan to him. He looked at Salvatore, then back at the parchment. “How long will it take?”

Salvatore met his gaze. “There and back?” He let the words settle.

“Twelve moons.”

Outside, the wind howled. The night stretched long and hungry. But for the first time in years, Salvatore saw something beyond starvation.

Hope.