Morvain — The Pierced Revenant

A stake through the skull,
a head torn from flesh.
Still his fangs drip,
still the Codex feeds.

Morvain was once a lord of thirst, a shadow draped in velvet and ruin. His hunger scoured villages until the soil itself grew pale. Yet hunger breeds defiance — and the mortals he fed upon gathered courage in secret. A band of hunters, carrying holy ash and sharpened stakes, came for him in the night.
 
They did not merely pierce his heart — they split his head from his body, driving a stake through his skull to end him forever. His body was burned to cinder, his name cursed into silence. But the Codex does not release what it has claimed.
 
Morvain’s eyes opened once more, fire gnawing in the black sockets, his mouth still wet with blood. The stake remains, a permanent crown of his defeat. His head, though severed, endures — lips whispering thirst, fangs eternally gnashing. Some say he drifts from place to place, carried not by body but by will, a floating maw that seeks only to drink again.
 
The hunters who pierced him were never seen again. Villages they touched grew empty overnight, as if Morvain followed their bloodlines down to the last child. The Codex calls him the Pierced Revenant — not slain, not freed, but made into hunger eternal. His bloodlust cannot be ended, only mocked by the timber lodged in his skull.