They bit and tore and ripped with their teeth, like a pack of wolves that had finally cornered their prey.
BITE!
RIP!
TEAR!
One of them grabbed Mika's arm and tore a chunk of flesh from his bicep.
Another bit into his chest, peeling away skin and muscle.
A third gnawed at his scalp, while a fourth tore off one of his toes with a sickening crunch.
"ARGHHH—! I-IT HURTS!" Mika screamed, his voice cracking with agony. "STOP—PLEASE—IT HURTS—"
But they didn't stop. They couldn't stop.
They were lost in a feeding frenzy, their humanity completely consumed by the hunger for power that had been growing inside them for weeks.
They tore pieces from Mika's body like vultures picking at a carcass, except Mika wasn't dead.
He was still alive. Still conscious. Still feeling every single moment of it.
Anya watched it all through a haze of tears and rage and despair.
She watched as they ripped the flesh from his legs, the same legs he had sacrificed over and over to keep them fed.
