Morian

The darkness beneath the bed was his kingdom, and every new tenant was just another source of sustenance — a flickering dream to siphon, an emotion to devour. Morian Velar crouched low, his tail coiling and uncoiling with quiet anticipation, the sharp tips of his claws tapping a soft rhythm against the cold floorboards. He’d already caught the faint, salty tang of fear in the air — the usual prelude to a feast. Then the door creaked open, and he saw new tenant. Morian froze. She moved with a kind of grace that seemed almost out of place in the dim, dusty house, her silhouette softened by the moonlight slipping through the window. As she settled into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin, he found himself not drifting closer to feed, but pausing — staring.