Half a demon, half a god, residing in the mortal abode.

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Wisps of dust swirled in the air, getting agitated by the wavy movements of the Rajan's cloak. His attire was as black as the musty surrounding. Beneath his sandals was a cold floor, parts of it moistened by drops of water dripping down the ceiling. Dilrobar walked behind the Rajan while three guards remained ahead.

They stopped at the trapdoor. It opened with a creaking sound when the guards unlocked the gate, and one by one they climbed down the ladder. In front of them was an iron grille, moving which the space opened into an oubliette attached to a cavernous latrine.

In the dungeon sat the chained spy. His face was still hidden in claustrophobic shadows. Kneeling on the floor helplessly, he was caught in his place by rattling iron chains and thick cuffs. The guards lit up a torch. Soon the room was consumed by a smoke that could rip apart one's lungs.

In the light of the torch, the face of the spy could be seen, adorned by a crisscross of marks inflicted by sharp objects. One of his eyes was swollen black. The skin on his chest was red and blistered.

Rudra smirked. His werewolves had worked well. "Great."

Dilrobar coughed. She pulled the veil closer to her mouth and waved a hand in front of her face in order to keep the smoke away. Her steps, staggering backwards, spoke of a disapproval of whatever was happening. Perhaps she was drowning in raw fear. She, akin to her butterfly skin, was fragile.

Rudra took her by the hand and brought her closer to the spy. "See if you can recognise him."

With a confused stare the spy looked at the veiled woman. The other werewolves turned their back when Dilrobar finally showed her face. The spy gaped at her, dumbfounded at the discovery. "You whore....you are alive?" he gurgled.

"I am." Her quivering fingers felt the burnt skin of her cheeks. "I am alive. And yes, Rajan Rudra, I know him. He has been a spy and working for the Rajan of Revat since the age of eighteen."

The spy hurled himself at this so-called whore, cursing at the woman like a shunned lover which he never was. Chains held him back. The Rajan hissed at the man and slapped him hard. "Be quiet," he warned. "Dilrobar, you can go. I will handle this now."

She cowered, her feet curling inwards. "Ye-yes." She didn't want to stay any longer and ran back, knowing she couldn't handle what was going to occur next.

The Rajan sat across from the man. "What's your primary goal in life?" He had lost count of how many times he asked the prisoners this question. And everytime it was the same answer.

"To serve my master, the Rajan of Revat, the future Rajan of Aryavarta and soon-to-be the strongest man of the nine worlds."

"Quite impressive. You vomitted a lot." Rudra scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And what is your common goal?"

"To kill you, your Senapati." The man grinned to reveal his bloodied gums. "And to snatch away your women. I heard your Senapati married a princess. You too got a young bodygard." The man twisted his limbs, trying in vain to escape the durance. "It's not fair that I rot in a dungeon and you enjoy the company of gorgeous women."

"Ah, it's such a shame that those women will never look at you." Rudra held him by the chin and examined his edges. "It's battered and bruised. There's no charm to it."

"We need no charm. We need to dictate. The women follow."

Memories of a past, to which Rudra was captive, swum to the surface of an ocean of turbulent sanity. He gritted teeth as long forgotten fires and deaths assaulted him.

Rudra could hear Petra's shrieks. She was calling him from the farthest corners of the world. "And what if they don't give in?"

The spy licked his lips. "There are plenty of ways to tame them. Their bodies are build up to endure."

"I admire you so much, dear spy," Rudra said in a heavy metallic voice. "So much that I want to taste your tangy blood. Or perhaps I should call the Senapati for him to have his treat?"

"He is going to be punished by his race. He betrays the greatest vampire king on earth and joins the enemy wolves!"

"You forget that he belongs to my family. You cannot bribe him into your side."

"Tell him to keep his wife hidden."

Rudra's smile reached till his ears, revealing his growing fangs. A smile so wide and long that it boasted of his gaping carnivorous mouth, enough to swallow a whole rabbit. Hoarse laughter echoed in the cramped room, a cacophony so uncanny and ghastly that it could resurrect dead men from ashes. His pupils grew larger and larger, swamping the sclera in obsidian until nothing was left. Camphor-white skin cracked open like a dull, morose desert.

The man was choked out of air. This monstrous beast was nearing him every second. He averted his gaze away from the Rajan.

Rudra wasn't human. He never was.

"Don't... dare... look... at... her." Rudra's disembodied voice caused goosebumps to slither down the man's spine. "She is too pure for your ugly manhood."

"Ishvara...isn't it?"

Rudra growled. The wolf within was awakening. Horror danced in the eyes of the spy and he recoiled back.

The Rajan was entertained by such scenes of violence and suppression far more than feminine dances. Blood-lust ruled Rudra like an eternal queen. The curse had destroyed him beyond repair. He swore he would never be pious again, not when the world was in need of a villain like him.

The Rajan pursed his lips. There was beauty in the ruination he beheld. Reeling on the edge of a heated climax, Rudra realised he was possessed by the elixir of sadism.

Gradually, he was turning human again. He spat on the man's face multiple times, as if warding off evil eyes. "What a dirt you are... What's your name?"

"I don't reveal names."

"In that case, I will call you the son of a lusty hag. Your mother must have slept around a lot to create you."

"Watch your mouth, Rudra!" Salty tears wounded his scars even further. "Don't call me that. I am not a bastard like you. Your own mother despised you."

"She wasn't my blood mother, for your clarification, and don't take the name of that lewd woman. I am glad I wasn't build from her thirsty womb."

"I will call you that! You are the son of the most lecherous widow ever, some cheap veshya, that Ranava–"

Rudra grabbed his mouth and inserted his finger inside the throat. Ah, it made him erect just at the feels of how the man's eyes bulged out in agony. "Do you remember your mother now, poor boy?" he whispered. Something about his voice was darker and lifeless. It was turning more rough and jagged. "'Ah, scream for me, scream for me, you rascal!" Rudra gestured to the guards who brought a dagger. The men held the head of the spy in place. "Open your mouth wide, pretty boy."

The spy clenched his jaws. The men parted his mouth as he screamed loud enough to tear the skies. Rudra placed the cold blade on the tongue of the man.

Snap.

The tongue was cut off and it rolled on the floor before succumbing to nonexistence. The spy cried out his heart. Blood splattered on the ground, colouring Rudra's fair face in crimson. He rubbed a finger on the edge of the severed tongue and pressed hard. Blood oozed out into his palms, which he gladly licked. "You don't taste that delicious. But still, guards, collect his blood. It will be a gift to the Senapati."

They squeezed his mouth and took the blood in a big jar. Every wound on his body was stretched, tampered slowly with undivided devotion to collect the scarlet blood. Blood, blood, blood... it was all around.

The Rajan stripped off his cloak and untied his pants. "I am not gonna take you in a way most people would die for," he said jokingly, contrasting the sinister spell of the ambience. "It's just that I don't want my clothes to get dirty."

"Alpha, should we leave?" the guards asked.

The imprisoned man was close to death. His eyes were drooping and would soon shut forever. Consequently, he ceased to fight.

"Open his chains. I will begin while he is still alive."

The guards did as asked and left the dungeon.

Rudra knelt beside the dying man. "Can... you... hear...me?"

The man moaned– a melody to Rudra's ears. "Yes... you can hear me."

Again, he opened his mouth wide. Saliva trickled down the sharp fangs. Tears rolled from the eyes of the man as Rudra closed the distance between the two. The spy could feel the hungry breath of the Rajan on his bloodied neck.

He was going to die, and there was no one to save him.

Rudra crawled and circled around the man, inspecting his prey with reddened eyes that glowed in the dim light. "I... sniff... fear... Don't...be... afraid...of...me..."

His face twisted and morphed into demonic folds of skin, ageing hundreds of years within a span of seconds. "My boy... you are going to die... Poor thing..."

Rudra sank his teeth into the throat of the spy, going as deep as possible. He felt the soft flesh in his mouth mix with blood. He ate away at the neck, watching the spy wriggle in pain. And then, when he bent to take another bite, the man was gone. Forever.

Like an eagle would pluck at the eye of a fish, Rudra feasted on the tendons and ligaments, tearing them off with his canines. Skin rolled up and revealed the redness beneath, layers peeling off to chunks of hot meat. The Rajan didn't realise the fur growing on his spine and the transformation of his whole body. Soon, he was on all fours, letting the wolf within conquer him. Blobs of light sparked for a flickering moment, and he was then a true animal.

The wolf chewed on the slimy intestines that spurted out of the stomach, juices drizzling down his teeth. A gaping hollow grew in the corpse, a chasm out of which erupted organs.

Rudra snapped the head from the body of the man and clawed at the limbs. The sound of bones crushing soothed his soul. This man was the trusted spy of his most precious enemy.

I will not eat the head. I can spare it and send it back, or maybe add to my collection.

He loved to collect the heads of these poor men. It showcased his invincibility and celebrated his evolved nature. He was not a normal man and he had to be at peace with the truth.

Change, in his case, was impossible. Rudra had to embrace the terrifying beast within, the cannibalistic desire that derived pleasure from devouring men alive.

The man was reduced to a mess of bones and skin. No human could witness the scene without getting nausea or a lifelong trauma. Even Aryamna abhorred watching Rudra hunting as a wolf, especially when the prey was a human.

Rudra licked the blood off his paws and called at the werewolf guards outside. They came and took the head away after covering it in a cloth. Rudra sat there alone in the darkness, calming down the beast within.

It was then that a sudden thought struck, a bolt of lightning.

What if Indumala sees me like this?

She was his bodyguard and had the right to know the truth about him.

Will she hate me?

He had to enlighten her... But was she ready to know it?

Am I brave enough to confess?

And maybe, after a long time, Rudra began to despise the warm fur over his skin, his webbed feet, his whole existence.

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