Beastbound: The Flesh of Power

The festive streets glowed with an otherworldly brilliance, the magical lights casting a golden hue over everything. As we walked, the cheerful chatter of Leo and Anya began to ease the tension in my chest. The laughter, the bustle of villagers, and the scent of roasted treats from nearby stalls created an intoxicating atmosphere. I allowed myself to relax, to get lost in this fleeting moment of joy.

The sun had fully set, giving way to the true majesty of the festival. The streets shimmered with light, driving away the darkness and replacing it with a dreamlike glow. Time seemed to blur as we strolled closer to the heart of the village.

When we reached the village center, I couldn't help but marvel. The open ground, now transformed into a lively hub, was adorned with vibrant decorations. Stalls lined the edges, their vendors calling out to passing families. At the center stood a large bonfire, waiting to be lit, with a makeshift stage nearby for performances. Later, this ground would host the traditional dance around the flames, an event that would last until dawn.

For a brief moment, I smiled. The scene felt like a dream, like a snapshot from another life—a simpler, happier life.

Then the dream shattered.

From the direction of the community hall, an old woman emerged. Her gray hair was disheveled, and her frail body trembled with visible fear. Sweat trickled down her pale face as she staggered forward, her movements erratic. She clutched at her chest as if trying to steady herself, her wide eyes darting about as though she had seen something unspeakable.

The seer.

The crowd murmured in confusion as she descended the steps. I followed her gaze and noticed it fixate on a boy standing alone near the bonfire. He wasn't dancing or mingling like the others; his focus was elsewhere—on a couple nearby.

Anya's auburn hair glimmered under the festive lights as she laughed, her emerald eyes sparkling with joy. Beside her, Leo stood tall, his confident demeanor softened by her presence. They looked perfect together, a sight straight out of a fairytale.

The boy's figure was shadowed, but his slouched shoulders and faraway eyes betrayed his melancholy.

Me.

Before I could process her approach, the seer reached for me with a trembling hand and grasped my shoulder. I turned, startled by the sudden contact, and froze when I saw her face.

Her eyes locked onto mine with a mix of horror and despair. Her voice, hoarse but loud enough to carry across the square, cut through the festive noise like a knife.

"Demon!"

The word echoed, shattering the cheerful atmosphere in an instant. All activity ceased. The music stopped, the laughter died, and every pair of eyes turned toward me.

I stared at the seer, my mind racing to make sense of her words. Demon? What was she saying?

"You... you are cursed," she stammered, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Because of you, the Ancestor's Egg will be destroyed! You bring ruin, misfortune, and death!" Her voice cracked, but the intensity of her accusation only grew. "You are a bad omen—a blight upon this village!"

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I could feel the weight of countless gazes, heavy with fear and suspicion. My chest tightened as the world seemed to tilt around me.

I looked desperately for support, for someone—anyone—to stand by my side. My eyes found Leo and Anya. Surely they wouldn't—

Anya's expression stopped me cold. Gone was her usual warmth. Her emerald eyes now held a look of disdain, and she took a step back, pulling Leo with her.

"Anya," I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips.

Leo's face was conflicted, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out. But Anya's grip on his arm tightened, and she shook her head, silently urging him to stay back.

The distance between us grew, not in steps but in something deeper. The crowd, as if taking their cue from the seer, moved away from me as though I carried a plague. The warmth of the festival was replaced by an unbearable cold.

My heart shattered.

I couldn't stay. I couldn't bear the stares, the whispers, the weight of their fear and rejection. Without thinking, I turned and ran.

The festival lights blurred as tears filled my eyes. The cheers and music of the crowd had been replaced by an oppressive silence, save for the pounding of my own footsteps.

I ran until the bright glow of the village was swallowed by the dark embrace of the forest.