Chapter 3

Earlier in the year, during that fracas with the Jersey Devil, she had fought with a forgotten tribe of beings from North America known as the Nirumbi. Driven to a level of desperation she hadn’t yet experienced, she had feasted on them during the fight, an event which had given her quite the taste for living flesh. It was hard to put it out of her mind some days, and was likely the reason she was so emotionally unbalanced. The hunger was always there, hovering in the back of her mind.

It also didn’t help that eating the Nirumbi had imparted her with greater strength. She was always stronger after feeding, but actually eating living tissue had made some of that strength permanent.

She nodded at the guards outside of Zel’s yurt, then walked through the flaps. Zel, the chief of the centaurs, was studying a bubbling flask in the center of her alchemy table. A mixture of old world lore and modern equipment, it looked like a fantasy version of a scene from Breaking Bad.