As a young child, Ian grew up with most of his family tree in a single pagoda. They were relatively wealthy, and they owned most of the land in the village, which was named Ine. Most of the other kids in Ine liked Ian perfectly well. At school, Ian wasn’t the top of his class, but he did well enough and had plenty of friends. He was in line to inherit his father’s fortune and land, and all was well.
When Ian was about 15, it was time to undergo the village’s coming-of-age ceremony; he must trek up Mount Pasture, stay there for seven days and seven nights, and return with a wolf pelt that he had procured himself. Ian was ready, and everyone in the village cheered him goodbye as he left to make his family proud.
The people of Ian’s culture traditionally used throwing knives and daggers as weapons in combat, and hunting was no exception. As he tracked his prey, he precisely threw a knife at the wolf’s skull, killing it instantly. All that was left to do was wait out the remaining days and return to the village in triumph.
Things did not go over so smoothly, however. As he hiked back to Ine, he saw smoke coming from his village’s direction. He broke into a sprint, dark thoughts shooting through his mind. Have those Crandish cowards finally attacked? When he arrived, however, he realized the absolute worst outcome had occurred.
This was the last time he saw his mother alive; fighting tooth and nail against an evil man. They exchanged strikes and slashes, his mother’s dagger clashing against the armored man’s katana. She stuck her dagger into the man’s neck, spurting blood and causing him to drop to the ground. His mother turned to him and smiled. He cried, but smiled back.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The sharp katana blade stuck through his mother’s chest as she coughed up blood. The once dead man she has slashed had now risen, his wounds completely healed. "MOTHER!" Ian screams. She slides off of the man’s sword, her intestines splaying the ground. Ian draws his dagger and charges at the man, but roots burst from the ground and retrained him at his ankles. He gasps in fright. What the hell!? The man approaches him. Up close, Ian can see a thick white cloth covers the man’s face. On it is a black picture of an eye, painted with ink.
"Well, well. The son has come to avenge his village. Too bad. Even if you had been here, you could not have stopped me. Prepare to—" As the man rears his sword back to strike Ian, he freezes and stutters for a moment. He lowers his sword and scratches his chin curiously.
"Bastard! Just do it already!" Shouts Ian.
"I can’t explain why, but it seems our fates have been intertwined. I can sense it. Killing you here will spell the inevitable death of me. So I will allow you to live… for now." The man sheathes his blade and turns around to walk away.
"Face me coward!" Screams Ian. The man does not answer, but laughs maniacally. Suddenly, his body begins to change. The man’s limbs fold in on themselves and grow feathers. His legs harden and grow points, and his head sprouts white hairs and yellow matter. Before Ian can comprehend what is going on, the man’s body has transformed into that of an eagle, which flies away. Ian, shocked, finds the resolve to throw his knives at the creature, but he misses. Dismayed, horrified, and in disbelief, the young boy whose world has been destroyed falls to his knees and weeps as the roots rot away from his legs.