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> "In a world where gods have names and monsters have blood, the cruelest curse is to be born in between."
— From the Forbidden Scriptures of Arios
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Prologue of the World:
Long ago, when the skies were still young and the seas still listened, two great races rose from the ashes of creation — the Demons, born of celestial fire and arrogance, and the Beastfolk, shaped by earth and instinct, living close to nature's skin. Together they painted the world with war, worship, and wounds.
Above them all stood the God of Fire — Arios — blazing, unchallenged, and merciless. The Demons called him Father. The Beastfolk feared him as Judge.
And beneath the ash-choked lands of the far north… lived another.
Forgotten in legends. Forbidden in songs.
She was not born of fire. She was fire.
The Goddess of Life and Death — Moria — ruling over the ruined lands of Nocturne Vale, where no gods dared to tread.
It is said her eyes can kill, her breath brings birth, and her smile seals a soul's end.
It is also said no one who has seen her true face has ever returned to speak of it.
Whether a myth or a monster… all were taught one thing:
Never look into her eyes.
Yet in this world of iron laws and caste cruelty, one child, neither demon nor beast, born of sin and hunted by blood, would one day walk into her shadow — not as a hero, but as a mistake the world would come to regret.
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Opening Poem:
> The moon has teeth, the stars grow old,
The child of dusk walks barefoot and cold.
Blood is his cradle, shame his crown,
A queen of death watches him drown.
But lo, what blooms in the darkest flood?
A flame... made not of fire, but blood.
The rain that night wasn't water.
It came red, thick, and warm. It stained the soil like ink spilled from a broken god's hand. The skies above the Beastfolk quarters cracked with lightning, but the real terror lay below — in the screams, the fire, the blood. The Demons had come early this year. Not for their annual inspection. This time, they had come for a purge.
In a small corner of the lower district, a boy no older than six huddled behind a broken wooden cart, clutching a bundle of cloth to his chest. His eyes, wide and trembling, reflected the burning sky. The cloth wasn't a toy. It wasn't food. It was the only thing left of his mother — her shawl, still soaked in the scent of smoke and rosewood.
He had watched her die.
A demon guard had cut her down in the street just hours ago, the golden blade flashing through the air without hesitation. They hadn't even asked questions. She was a Beastwoman. Worse, she had given birth to something impure. That alone was enough to warrant death under the laws of the upper caste.
And his father? A noble demon who broke the greatest law — taking a Beastfolk mate and fathering a child. He was executed in chains, publicly, with the chants of Arios' priests echoing behind him.
"Cleanse the sins," they had said.
The child's name was Li Yuan.
And as he crouched in silence, blood dripping from a gash on his cheek, he didn't understand what sin he had committed.
He didn't cry. Not anymore.
He had screamed earlier, until his throat gave out. Now, there was only a strange emptiness, like the cold space left behind when a fire burns out.
Footsteps. Heavy boots in the mud.
Li Yuan pressed himself deeper into the shadows, trying to disappear. They were still searching. He was the last one left. A mixed-blood. The worst kind.
The rain hit harder now. Red. Unnatural. Like the heavens were mourning.
He couldn't stay here. If they found him, he'd be next. And there was no one left to stop them. No parents. No neighbors. No friends. They had all turned their backs on him the moment the truth was known. Beastfolk feared punishment. Demons hated impurity. And Li Yuan… was alone.
He ran.
Bare feet slapping against muddy ground, he ran without direction, slipping through alleys, crawling under fences, dodging broken carts and burning buildings. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to go far, far away from here. Somewhere they wouldn't find him.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. He couldn't tell anymore.
Eventually, the fire faded behind him, and he found himself in the forest beyond the outer border. Trees loomed overhead like giants, their wet leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Here, the ground was softer, the air cooler. The cries of death and war were gone.
But he didn't stop running until his legs gave out.
He collapsed beside a moss-covered rock, chest heaving, skin pale, clothes torn. His lips moved, trying to speak a name, maybe his mother's, maybe a god's. No sound came.
Then… silence.
Until a voice, soft and lilting, broke through the night.
"You'll catch your death out here, little fox."
Li Yuan's eyes snapped open.
A woman stood before him.
She was cloaked in red, long silver hair falling like moonlight over her shoulders. Her face was half-shadowed by the hood, but her eyes — sharp, amber-gold — glowed with an unplaceable light. A fox tail flicked behind her robes.
He flinched, scrambling backward.
"Don't worry," she said calmly. "I'm not here to kill you."
Li Yuan didn't believe her. Not immediately. He'd learned not to trust faces, especially pretty ones. Especially strangers.
"Who… who are you?" he croaked, voice hoarse and raw.
The woman tilted her head. "Call me Tian."
It was a lie. Her name wasn't Tian. It hadn't been for centuries. But she had learned long ago that mortals reacted better when gods didn't announce themselves.
"Why did you help me?"
"I didn't," she said lightly, walking past him. "Not yet."
He blinked, confused, watching her sit on the rock beside him as if they were old friends. She pulled out a dried fruit from her pouch and tossed it to him.
He caught it with trembling hands. Hunger was stronger than fear. He ate.
Tian — Moria — watched him quietly, noting his features. The boy was filthy, underfed, and scared. But there was something in his eyes. Not innocence. Not yet fury. Just… silence. Like a blank scroll waiting to be written on.
"I heard you talking in your sleep," she lied again. "You said something about the goddess Moria."
His face darkened.
"She's… scary," he said. "Mama said never look into her eyes. She eats children."
Tian laughed — a soft, bell-like sound that echoed in the quiet forest.
"Eats children? That's a new one."
"She also kills anyone who says her name."
Tian leaned forward. "Then you must be very brave."
He looked away, ashamed. "I didn't mean to… I don't know what else to call her."
She said nothing for a moment, then sighed and leaned back against the rock.
"Do you believe everything people say?"
"I don't know."
"What if they're wrong?"
He looked at her then, really looked. Her smile wasn't cruel. Her eyes weren't angry. There was warmth in her presence — like a campfire on a snowy night.
"Are you… one of the scary ones?" he asked.
She paused, then shrugged. "I'm many things."
Li Yuan yawned without meaning to. His body was giving up. Exhausted, broken, but alive. She watched as he curled against the moss, finally allowing himself to sleep.
As the fireflies lit up the forest canopy above, Tian stood and gazed toward the horizon.
In the distance, the beast territories still burned.
So… this was the child.
The one her system had warned her about centuries ago. A fixed variable. A boy not meant to exist. Half demon, half beast. A living contradiction. A danger… and perhaps a key.
She didn't need him. Not yet.
But she was curious.
And she was very, very bored.
So she whispered to the sleeping child, voice softer than wind.
"Rest, little flame. For one day, the world will know your name…"
"...and wish it had never heard it."
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