The duo went back to town for the day after Blackthorne displayed his somewhat awesome power. It cost him far too much in resources and lost time to craft that pathetic ring, but what it brought to him in return was knowledge. He was on the verge of a breakthrough. He could not be certain what that breakthrough would be, but he felt it deeply. Something fundamental about his nature would change soon.

Each day that had passed previously, drew his attention to some new facet of his being. It was like he desperately felt the urge to grow somehow, to expand and become more than he currently proved to be. Of course, each day also caused something else to expand. There was an ever growing sense of incompletion, of hunger. His food intake began to increase, slowly at first, but after his most recent escapade he was barely able to wait for his dinner to arrive before he felt the need to gorge himself.

Blackthorne looked down at the plate of ribs, and several apple cores, that he had devoured since their return to town. "Hungry... Why am I always so damned hungry of late?"

Sonja dabbed a bit of sauce from her lips then looked askance at him. "Maybe you secretly wish to become fat?"

"I've already succeeded at that life goal once before, thank you." Blackthorne waved her off, but then flagged down one of the new wait staff members and had her bring him the thickest steak they had prepared. Rare. The less it was cooked, the better.

"You're going to eat yourself into the poor house, soon," remarked Sonja. Actual concern rose upon her face, however. Starting a few days prior her master had begun to eat ever larger meals. It made sense while he was injured. Food sped healing along its way, after all. Now that he was largely recovered, however, he could not seem to stop his glutinous behavior.

Blackthorne gnawed on a dinner roll then winced and lightly spat it out into a piece of equally unloved lettuce that accompanied his ribs. The salad it came from sat untouched. For some reason, he craved meat. Only meat. He needed that sweet protein, and to hell with anything else!

Sonja winced at his table manners, not that hers were much better, then took a drink of her wine. Her master did not touch the stuff often, as little as possible in fact, but she enjoyed having the freedom to drink it on occasion.

Once the steak arrived, he nodded politely to the waitress then tore into his meal with little fanfare. His nostrils flared. His eyes widened in appreciation. Meat! Oh, how it soothed his angry belly, and delighted his taste buds.

The steak did not stand a chance. He devoured it in seconds, soon eschewing his utensils all together he gripped the barely cooked flesh tightly in his hands while he tore into it with teeth that had become inhumanly sharp.

"Master, what's wrong with you?" asked Sonja slowly. She watched as Blackthorne finished the steak then began to whine and whimper a little when there was no more. He licked his fingers then lapped the juice from his plate like a starving cat.

He glanced down at Sonja's nearly finished meal. She chose to have a chicken dinner. One piece, a half-eaten breast, was left behind. His normally human eyes shifted slightly. His pupils became serpentine slits for the briefest of moments.

Blackthorne's mouth began to water, and his breathing became erratic. "So, hungry."

She folded her arms across her chest then grunted at him in annoyance. "Well, you can't have my chicken!"

He bared his overly sharp human teeth like vicious fangs and began to growl at her like an animal. Taken aback, Sonja leaned away from him. Blackthorne immediately stole her piece of chicken then began to devour it feverishly. He ate it, bones and all then began to pant.

"So hungry..." he whimpered. His vision soon became clouded and he started to shake his head.

"Master?" asked Sonja.

Suddenly, his eyes became clear. Blackthorne rose quickly to his feet then tossed down a large number of Jerin. "I have to go."

"Of course, let us pay the bill and—" she began. He cut her offer with a decisive swipe of his hand. "No. I have to go alone."

"Why? What's happening?" She shot to her feet as well, a new demand rising to her lips in the process. He cut her off once more, however.

"I think I might know what's happening to me. I won't be safe to be around you for a few days. When I come back... I might have changed a little." Blackthorne offered her a slight smile then gestured to the coins on the table. "That should more than cover our meal and lodgings."

He turned to leave. She reached out to stop him, but he drew away from her too quickly.

"Where will you go?" she asked loudly, in an almost desperate voice.

His feet froze in place. Slowly, he turned his head back toward her at an angle impossible for a human neck. His eyes blazing red, his pupils formed into serpentine slits, he darkly whispered through teeth that seemed far too sharp, "Down deep into the darkness of the Earth... where I can eat my fill and no one who matters will be harmed by it."

Sonja's eyes widened. His tone and demeanor were quite alien. There was something vaguely terrifying about him in that moment. It took until after he left for her to realize that the entire room had come to a stop. She looked around. Various patrons sat trembling in their seats. More than one seemed to have been rendered unconscious.

One man bravely tried to eat a spoonful of soup but his trembling hand spilled it every which way long before it reached his lips. What had happened to all of those people? More than one previously dark haired patron now sported a shockingly white head of hair.

He passed through the town like death itself, the simple townsfolk trembling in his wake. No guard sought to stop him. No one called out to him. Whatever business he was about, they wanted none of it.

His human form lasted only long enough to reach the thick grass beyond human sight before he shifted into his shadow form. Down, down into the deep recesses of the underground world below flew the shadow of death. Blackthorne broke into the dark world beneath the grass land then flowed quickly to a spot near a hanging bit of rock. He did not have the skill or life force needed to reach the ground, but he did have enough of both to shift back into dragon form then drop down and cling weakly onto the rocks.

The scent of scorpions and bats drew him down in short order. Meat! There was so much meat waiting for him here in the forgotten darkness. His tongue lolled outward from his draconic maw and he began to pant. "So hungry..."

He spied his first meal and waited for it to begin its flight beneath him. Blackthorne dropped down at a time that he did not realize was purely determined by instinct and fell upon the large bat flying beneath him. With a feral cry he tore into the flesh of the hapless beast and they both fell into the dark depths below, blood trailing from the bat's hideous wounds. The only light in that abyssal darkness, two bright red spots of hellfire that blazed on the killing floor below.