Velra paced restlessly, biting her nails as anxiety gnawed at her insides.
Just like that strange parasite had said, there was a hidden cellar deep in the forest—tucked behind thick overgrowth and masked with clever camouflage. A perfect hideout. Goblins had taken shelter there, cowering from the larger predators of the region.
They hadn't lasted long.
Velra had torn through them swiftly, draining every last drop of blood from their scrawny, trembling bodies.
But as she stood there, her crimson-stained lips curling in frustration, she muttered under her breath, "Not enough…"
It was true.
Their blood was too weak, too diluted—barely enough to warm her core, let alone restore her power. Her limbs still felt heavy, her magic sluggish and unresponsive.
She needed more. Much more.
Normally, she wouldn't hesitate to go on a rampage through nearby villages. A few humans, especially fresh ones, would do wonders for her recovery.
But she couldn't.
Not now.
