The moonlight filtered through the reed shutters of Bion’s modest room, casting faint, shifting patterns across the clay walls. The air was cool and still, a silence broken only by the occasional crackle of the hearth embers. Bion sat on the edge of his low cot, his eyes heavy but his mind restless.

  Enki lay nearby in a makeshift crib, lovingly crafted from splintered wood and packed earth. Bion had smoothed the edges with his hands, ensuring it was as gentle as possible for the small babe. Yet the softness of the bedding could not keep Enki at peace.

  A piercing cry shattered the quiet, and Bion’s heart clenched. He rose quickly, his weariness forgotten as he knelt by the crib. Enki’s small fists flailed, his face scrunched with hunger and discomfort.

  “I know, little one,” Bion murmured softly, reaching into the crib to lift him. The babe’s tiny body fit snugly against his chest, and Bion rocked him gently. “I can hear it in your cries. You’re hungry again.”

  The child’s cries softened slightly but did not cease, his fair skin now pale without the earlier pink flush. Bion’s brow furrowed as he realized the babe’s condition was worsening. He swayed slowly, his mind racing for a solution.

  Without thinking, his finger brushed against Enki’s cheek, then traced down to the baby’s soft lips. Instinctively, Enki opened his mouth, his tiny gums grazing the pad of Bion’s finger.

  Bion hesitated, his thoughts a storm of doubt and dread. He knew what Enki needed—what the bite earlier had confirmed—but could he truly do it? The Chief Elder of Iah Sacred Village, offering his own blood to a being who might be more demon than child?

  Duty clashed with compassion, and Bion’s shoulders sagged under the weight of his decision. But then Enki’s dark eyes met his, shining with trust and innocence, as though they carried none of the malice that others might fear.

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  With a deep, steadying breath, Bion surrendered to the moment. Slowly, he pressed his finger to Enki’s mouth.

  The sting of the infant’s small fangs was sharp but fleeting, replaced quickly by a strange warmth. Enki latched onto the finger, his suckling gentle and controlled. Bion watched, transfixed, as the babe fed—not with the ravenous frenzy of a predator, but with the quiet gratitude of one in desperate need.

  Bion felt no fear, only a strange fascination as he observed the miracle of life before him. Enki’s pale complexion seemed to regain some of its healthy pink hue, and his cries subsided entirely. When the babe finally pulled away, he licked at the small drops of blood escaping from the wound, his actions almost tender.

  “Remarkable,” Bion whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

  Enki looked up at him, his dark eyes filled with an emotion Bion could only describe as gratitude. The babe cooed softly, one tiny hand reaching up to grasp at a strand of Bion’s wavy hair.

  “You’re full of surprises, little one,” Bion said, his lips curving into a faint smile.

  Satisfied and content, Enki nestled into Bion’s arms, his breathing slowing as sleep overtook him. Bion placed him carefully back into the crib, ensuring the babe was comfortable before retreating to his cot.

  But as he lay down, exhaustion creeping into his limbs, his mind refused to rest. The council meeting tomorrow loomed large in his thoughts, a shadow of uncertainty and dread. How would he explain Enki’s existence? How could he reveal the child’s peculiar needs without risking everything?

  He turned onto his side, gazing at the crib where Enki lay peacefully. The small rise and fall of the infant’s chest was a comfort, a reminder of the life now entrusted to him.

  “Fate has bound us together,” Bion murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I will find a way to protect you, Enki. Even if the path ahead is unclear.”

  The moonlight dimmed as clouds passed overhead, shrouding the room in shadow. Bion closed his eyes, though sleep remained elusive. The weight of his responsibilities, his fears, and the strange, unshakable bond he felt with the child all churned within him.

  As the hours passed, the village outside remained silent, the world unaware of the storm brewing within its youngest Chief Elder’s heart. And yet, somewhere deep within Bion, hope glimmered faintly, a fragile light against the encroaching darkness.