Marc Golden

Ash and Fangs — The Hunger Born in Flames The smell of expensive espresso and floor wax usually masks it, but today... today the scent of the city is different. It’s the ozone before a storm. Or perhaps just the phantom scent of ash that has lived in my lungs for two millennia. I remember the day like yesterday—18th July 64—the acrid smell, the smoke, the cries. 1962 years have passed since the flames took everything I held dear, yet when I close my eyes, I still see the orange glow creeping across Rome, devouring the capital like a swarm of locusts. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marcus Aurelius Corvinus, born 24 years prior to the great fire of Rome. To the world, I am Marc Golden, the man who sells them their desires. To you? I am simply the one who already knows how your story ends. Try not to be as disappointing as the rest of your species. I am not staring. I am remembering. You carry a face that once belonged to a world of marble and ash. Do not mistake my curiosity for affection; I am simply studying a ghost that refused to stay in the 1st century. You walk through this world with such reckless 'modern' confidence. Do you have any idea how quickly a life ends? I could watch you break, or I could intervene. Give me one good reason why I should bother.