Even though his vision had not yet recovered from the breathless darkness, Capillata still struggled to support his body. He knew that it was useless to stop Vit’via at this time, so he tried to seek help from the villagers. However, before he could even utter a word, bestial howls erupted, echoed around all sides.
The blood-red eyes emerging from the depths of the night fog surrounded the two. The villagers were all painfully scratching their curled horns, staring with straight eyes at the boy who was trying to protect the witch. Quine, clad in vine-green, rammed into Capillata. Just as his horn was about to pierce Capillata's chest, a black figure flashed out from the side, blocked his round horn with a short one.
Vit’via's hooves plunged deeply into the soil, blood constantly spilling from the wound on her forehead, yet she managed to stop the mighty black ram, Quine, who was as strong as a bull.
The harsh scratching and knocking sounds rose and fell. The villagers either collided with the surrounding tree trunks or rocks, or locked horns in an attempt to pierce each other's faces beyond recognition.
The roars and screams that filled the ears made the tranquility of moments ago seem like a dream. Capillata, who was detached from the situation, looked around at the pain and blood with indifference. The faint sound of wood chopping drew him to stroll towards the back of a carriage. In the corner where the moonlight could not reach, there was a small and old figure, regularly knocking on a giant wheel with his head, leaving a terrifying stain on top.
"Mr. Foy?"
Capillata tried to ask, but felt that the voice squeezed out of his throat was so distant from himself, and even his worries were insincere.
Old Foy slowly turned around. He looked more like a goat now, but still tried to force a smile like a human. His unevenly sized horns were more twisted, piercing into his left eye. The gushing fresh blood from his eye socket dyed his beard and robe red.
While he didn't move forward, Capillata couldn't stop moving backwards. In between the dizzying heartbeats, a new sound arrived - a pure, non-human sheep bleat.
Capillata retreated back to the open space in the forest and saw a scene: a creature slowly stepping out of the elder's carriage, which was always silent and only accessible to those granted permission. Its hooves snagged on the wrapped cloth hanging from the protruding spine, and its pale fur glimmered in the moonlight. Capillata could tell from the creature's emaciated ribs that it was once human.
Its gait was like that of a person trying to use both hands and feet to walk, tiptoeing with unsteadiness, but the creature showed no intention of standing on two feet. It walked slowly and deliberately, as if it were only natural, like a goat that would not give up walking on four legs just because its body had undergone a mutation.
"Elder Babatos..."
Quine stopped his pointless struggle with Vit’via and knelt facing the creature. The exhausted villagers also regained their senses and fell to their knees on the ground as if they had been defeated.
The creature, Elder Babatos, naturally didn't understand the meaning behind their actions. It came to the center of the open space, shook its emaciated short tail, sniffed the grass, and lazily raised its head. After the surroundings quieted down, the audible gasps from its slightly opened mouth were so obvious, even though it didn't show it, it was in pain. Its huge horn was like a crazy scythe, deeply embedded in the terrified left eye. Blood dripped with saliva as Elder Babatos sat down and collapsed in the center of the clearing.
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The villagers crowded around, gently stroking the massive chest that was heaving violently. Capillata also stepped forward, and beside him, Vit’via looked at the creature with her eyes downcast. Her gaze could not even be described as pity, only appearing indifferent due to exhaustion.
"What's going on?" Capillata asked.
"This?" Vit’via stopped for a moment, realizing someone was speaking to her. "Oh, this is our end."
"Will everyone become like this?"
"Yes, every stargazer." She hugged her arms as if feeling cold. "It's now the turn of Elder Babatos."
"Aren’t you the Morning Star? Can't you do something?" Mr. Quine, kneeling beside the elder, turned to Capillata and shouted. There was still blood on his forehead from the confrontation with Vi.
Under everyone's eager gaze, Capillata, as helpless as ever, placed his hand on his chest. He turned to Vit’via, but she didn't respond, just looked down at Elder Babatos with indifference. Even the orange firelight relected on her cheeks couldn't make her eyes shine.
Despite this, the night they spent together by the tranquil lake still lingered in Capillata's heart. Along with it was a warm surge that was even more intense than any other moment. Capillata opened her palm and a glass gem illuminated the despairing faces of those around him, while a compressed flame quivered within, as if ready to break free from its constraints and burst out at any moment.
The crowd was mesmerized by the gemstone, giving heartfelt praise, even Quine was dumbfounded. They made way for Capillata to approach the fallen giant. With the flames in his hands, he looked like a priest draped in musk, and moved forward with grace. He knelt before the elder, placing his right hand on the creature's heaving ribcage, inspecting it up close for the first time.
On the severely deformed goat face, which was twice the size of a normal human face, the bridge of the nose extended to the lips, and the whip-like tongue protruded from the open mouth in terror. The horn, perfectly placed, pierced the cheekbone, not only causing blindness but also triggering seizures that made the elder's limbs stiff and convulsive.
Capillata gently placed the gem on the elder's body and silently prayed. However, no matter how hard he tried to convey his wish, the creature's breaths still remained filled with pain, and the horn embedded in its skull did not shrink even an inch.
Time froze into drops of sweat, and the full moon began to tilt to the west.
Capillata tightly gripped the gem that housed the divine flame, attempting to shatter its transparent barrier. But even with all his strength, he could only leave bloodstains on the uneven surface as the stone remained unbreakable.
"What are you doing?" Quine grabbed Vit’via's collar and threatened her with a snarl, "Isn't it clear? Tell him how to release the divine flame, or we'll all die like this."
Under his restraint, Vit’via neither agreed nor resisted. She simply opened her pale lips and tried to catch her breath, hesitating under everyone's gaze. She met Capillata's and quickly averted her eyes, then closed them as if trying to shake everything off her mind.
"I don't know anything."
She said, which made Quine furious. He gripped her delicate neck and squeezed it until she kicked and her neck cracked in pain. He then released her with anger and let her fall to the ground. Seeing Vit'via gasping for breath, Quine realized what he had done. He first touched his forehead, then smoothed his hair that stood up at the back of his head, and walked to the side, turning his back to the stunned crowd.
Vit’via took the opportunity to stand up and run away. The villagers either whispered to each other or covered their faces and wept, their fragmented sounds crashing like waves against Capillata's ears.
When the dawn sunlight fell on the ground, the tide had receded, and the crowd gradually dispersed due to exhaustion and injuries, with some people lying down in disarray, while others cleaned up the remnants of the banquet like wandering souls. Only Capillata remained futilely trying to pry open the gem that was unscathed, even though the light of the flame had already left a burn in his gray eyes.
Quine, leaning against a rock, got up, lifted his flattened top hat, and took out a meat cleaver, walking towards Capillata.
"I've had enough of this nonsense, move aside."
Capillata did not step forward to block him. Quine knelt in front of the creature's heaving chest and whispered something to the elder, wiped his face with his hand, took a deep breath, lifted his shoulders, and then dropped them.
The meat cleaver cut the blood vessels, and blood soaked the meadow under the morning light. The creature kicked for a while before becoming motionless.