Feylin stood frozen, a small island amidst the chaos that had swallowed Bright Village whole. Screams pierced the air as people fled, their faces twisted in terror, but he couldn't move. His gaze was locked on the figure rushing towards him – his mother, Elara.
"Feylin! Run!" Her voice cracked as she sprinted closer.
For a heartbeat, they were on a collision course, arms outstretched. Then, a dark shape plummeted from the shadows, silencing her cry. Feylin's scream echoed through the village as the creature tore her apart before his eyes.
The world went still. The flames crackling through the thatched roofs seemed to pause, the smoke hovering like a specter. Elara's eyes, once bright with love, went dark. The thing that killed her stood tall, its body a twisted mockery of a human form. Its skin was black as coal, and where its face should be, a constellation of glowing eyes stared back at Feylin.
The village was a slaughterhouse. Villagers stumbled, screaming, as more shadowy figures descended upon them. Feylin's legs trembled, rooted to the spot. The creature took a step closer, its eyeless face tilted, as if intrigued by the boy.
The creature crept slower every step as menacing as the next,
Feylin's breath caught as the creature's glowing eyes seemed to suck the light from the air. He saw himself reflected in one of the creature's eyes – a tiny, helpless boy with teary black eyes, pale skin, and a mess of white hair. The image seared into his mind, a cruel mockery of the life he'd known.
The creature's face, if it could be called that, was a void of darkness punctuated by those unsettling eyes. One of them seemed to focus on Feylin, studying him like an insect in a jar. The boy's heart thuddered, as if it might stop at any moment.
The creature's voice was a low, rumbling growl, like thunder on a distant horizon. "You... are... prey." The words dripped with a hunger that made Feylin's skin crawl.
Feylin's paralysis broke, and he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet. The creature lunged, its dark figure blurred as Feylin scrambled around,as the creatures hand if you can call it that shot forward slashing him Feylin's scream echoed through the now ruined village as he hit the dirt, his side burning with pain. The creature loomed over him, its shadowy form twisting with an unnatural fluidity. He knew he was at its mercy – and it had none.
As he stared up at the monstrosity, a chilling realization dawned on him: it was toying with him. The creature's movements were deliberate, almost... playful. Like a cat with a cornered mouse, it was savoring the fear, prolonging the inevitable.
With a surge of desperation, Feylin Cain swung a jagged piece of wood, piercing the creature's glowing eye. The creature recoiled, hissing like a thousand snakes, its pain-fuelled scream sending a chill down Feylin's spine. Adrenaline masked the pain as he scrambled up, his gaze locking onto the creature's twisted form.
He knew he had to run.
Holding his side, Feylin sprinted out of the village, his white hair streaming behind him. Tears blurred his vision as he glanced back, his heart heavy with grief and fear. The creature was hunched over, one eye impaled by the wooden shard, its other eyes fixed on him with a burning hunger.
But Feylin's gaze was drawn to his mother's lifeless body, her eyes open and empty, devoid of the love and warmth he'd always known. A scream built in his throat, but he choked it back, his jaw clamping shut.
Dread settled in his stomach like a cold stone, weighing him down. His life would never be the same. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he pushed on, his legs pumping furiously as he fled into the darkness.
The forest swallowed him whole, casting him into a world of shadows and terror. Feylin's breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn't slow down. He couldn't. The creature's pain would only fuel its fury, and he'd be its next target.
Feylin's mind was a whirlwind of emotions – grief, fear, dread – but one thought kept him going: survival.