The boy wearing a green vest experienced his first mutation at the age of six.

Like other children in the village, he suddenly developed a high fever and suffered from nightmares. Some weak children couldn't bear the torture and passed away at the age of six or seven. Quine was always the strongest among his peers since he was young, and he recovered smoothly. However, this strange illness left two twisted horns on his messy black curly hair.

It was also at this time that he gradually heard about "Father of Creation", the ancestor of mankind Angelus, and the curse carried by the hybrid of human and beast during the midnight conversations and mourning of the adults. Among all the adults, his grandmother was the most calm about this, so Quine always stuck to her when he was a child.

During the war launched by the followers of the 'Father of the Creation', as loyal servants of the Danu family, our ancestors bravely blocked the enemies at the Wolf Howling Pass.

"During the war launched by the followers of the 'Father of Creation', as loyal servants of the 'Beast Spirit' Danu, our ancestors bravely blocked the enemies at the Wolf Howling Pass." In front of the campfire, the thin old woman, whose hands had degenerated into two hooves, was knitting with trembling voice and telling ancient stories and how, in legend, "Soineanta" was friendly, "Greadadh" was terrifying, and "Dàn" was indifferent.

"But as a result, they lost the opportunity to go to Àilean with their masters and could only wander in this Land of Nirvana forever, far away from the power and comfort of their masters. As a result, when the inner humanity gradually revives and conflicts with the beast nature, we will involuntarily feel pain."

Beside him, Quine spun the trout on the branch. "Our ancestors were heroes, why do we have to be punished for this?" Since growing the horns, meat was no longer as appetizing in his mouth. He knew that adults hardly ate meat, but he didn't give up the hope of tasting the deliciousness of fish like before someday.

"Yes, Quine, they were certainly heroes, but were they fighting for the right cause? Or were they fighting for the sake of being beasts, born to fight for beasts?" Grandma paused her knitting for a moment. "Ancestors' choices were neither right nor wrong, only consequences; and we live in the consequences."

After Grandmother passed away, Quine sat by the river, reminiscing about her words. He looked at the small fish swimming happily in the stream with his wide and elongated pupils, but he couldn't muster the interest to catch them. The fish darted around in fright, due to the reflection of the sun being obscured and the water flow being disturbed. Quine lifted his head and saw the witch trainee, Vit’via, standing next to him dressed in rust-red and with deep flaxen hair.

By age, Quine should have called her sister, but his growth had surpassed hers at the age of ten - not just in height and build, but also in the progression of the curse.

"What’s on your mind, Quine?" Quine still remembered her smile when she said that. She seemed to be washing something at the time, but he couldn't remember whether it was clothes or herbs. He had also forgotten his response, but whatever it was, it was probably foolish, and Vit’via had seen through his thoughts.

"Don't worry, Quine. I'm here for you." Vit’via turned her face and smiled like the May sunshine. "When I become a witch, I'll find a way to make the legend of the Morning Star come true, and lead the village out of its miserable fate. Just wait for me."

Even though Quine knew that Vit'via was not yet a witch at the time, and even though he knew there were many powerful witches before her, and even though he raised his nose and turned away... deep down in his storming teenage heart, he secretly hoped for a ray of sunshine from her.

Perhaps this young girl could really do the impossible.

Even if she failed, at least Quine could be by her side to face the long night together.

No matter how knowledgeable the witches of the past were, or how worthy their deeds were to be praised, they were not important to Quine. Even if Vi was not the smartest, she was his only fate that he could rely on.

However, perhaps not surprisingly, as the years passed, Vit’via's promised redemption did not come, and more villagers were cursed and killed after suffering. The horns on Quine's head became heavier every month, and his once handsome face distorted and elongated with age.

Even though Quine had taken the path of fate that his childhood self resented, his body had grown stronger and he had become increasingly numb to the regular pain and even tragic endings. If only that witch with a May smile was still circling his life, Quine might have been able to accept walking in the footsteps of his predecessors.

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However, that girl in the crimson dress and chestnut hair had stayed behind years ago. Vit'via became a formal witch, and her expertise and knowledge gradually improved, but the May sunshine on her face disappeared.

Her hair turned black, and she also changed into black clothes. She became reclusive and always held a timid gaze when speaking to people other than her nursemaid. As she grew up, she never mentioned anything about the Morning Star or breaking the curse.

Perhaps feeling Quine's gaze becoming increasingly cold, their friendship gradually faded. This in turn deepened the young man's incomprehension. He couldn't help but feel that the black-clad witch in front of him was not Vit’via at all. The real Vi at some point in her life had been replaced by this impostor.

As a result, when she returned to the village with Capillata, which she claimed was the Morning Star "Vitulus", in her sparkling eyes, the girl with the sunny smile seemed to come alive again. This confused and angered Quine. It turned out that Vit’via had not disappeared, she had just abandoned him and the village.

As a result, Quine, who had been abandoned by fate once before, could not trust the fickle girl again. He knew that he could be abandoned again at any time.

And it did happen, twenty days after Lá Bealtaine. The villagers who rose early to tend to their crops found the doors of the elder's carriage wide open, empty inside with iron chains scattered on the thatched floor. When they searched the village, they found no trace of Vit’via, who was responsible for taking care of the Morning Star.

"Let her go," Quine would answer anyone who asked about Vit’via's whereabouts, with his hat covering his face and hands on his stomach, lying under a tree stump. From the third day onwards, he would add:

"As far as I'm concerned, she's long dead."

His words naturally shut others up, which suited him just fine. No one hated the witch more than he did, and he couldn't stand hearing people constantly talk about Vit'via. She left, following the false Morning Star and the castrated God fire, but so what? Every full moon, they would bang their heads under unbearable pain, and one day, they would die from the lifelong disease that plagued them. But so what? For hundreds of years, life had been like this. Even if the Morning Star never appeared, no one would suffer forever.

Regarding hope, the hardest thing is giving it up; once you do, you can accept everything.

On sunny days, Quine would occasionally stroll to the place where Babatos the elder was buried. As tender sprouts emerged from the newly turned soil, the boundaries between the two-step wide, five-step long piece of land and the surrounding environment became increasingly blurred. For those members who could live to lose their Holy Wisdom and die in an almost animal-like posture, stargazers would not erect a monument for them. It was a practical approach: there was no need to adorn the death, which lacked Holy Wisdom, with unnecessary emotions and thoughts.

Quine knelt on the newly turned mud with one knee, reaching out to touch the pink bell on the flame-like leaves, which was not a hollyhock but a willowherb. Whether it was a burned forest or a newly turned field, this flower always bloomed first.

Kneeling Quine couldn't help but recall the scene of himself kneeling before the Elder's heaving chest. It was him who cut off the creature's throat, leaving it forever peaceful. But he didn't tell anyone that when he touched the creature's neck, he couldn't say how much pain it was suffering. Yes, its legs twitched, and it gasped for breath rapidly, but what does the pain of lacking Holy Wisdom really mean?

The only thing Quine knew was that when the Elder died in his hands, whether it was the villagers, the boy behind him, or himself, they all breathed a sigh of relief. The one who was truly relieved by that one stroke was not the creature but the compassionate and self-blaming people.

If he could be as ignorant as Elder Babatos, he could be content with the status quo and follow the only guide to happiness: never think about Vit’via again.

But as a remnant of Angelus, there were certain things that itched in Quine's chest day and night, demanding full combustion. Some people call it hope, desire, passion, ambition... but more often than not, it's just stubbornness.

Humanity won the war with Danu through its stubbornness, but stubbornness is also the greatest flaw of human nature.

Even if he understood this, understood the thought of "searching other possibilities" and "seeking the truth" would only bring him pain, Quine, who tossed and turned on his bed, couldn't stop the spreading thorns in his mind. It's just that even though he was cursed to the bone, he was not an animal but a human.

Therefore, on a sleepless night, his thirst for knowledge and curiosity defeated him. He broke into the carriage of witches who had lived for generations, disregarding the nanny's obstruction, took an ancient book that had been pressed under the witch's pillow, and smashed the lock on it.

He left the bloated woman lying on the ground and ran towards the wilderness under the starlight. His horizontal pupils moved between the lines, and with each turn of the page, they widened. When the pages fell with Quine's right hand, his heart was already filled with complex, conflicting emotions. At this moment, there was nothing left of him except his humanity.

Once a strong human spirit is ignited, it cannot be extinguished spontaneously unless the fuel is exhausted. From the moment he opened the ancient texts and was drawn into the strange stories recounted within, he stepped into a point of no return. It was like throwing dice or shooting arrows; humans cannot be content with the process of change and will feel pain if they cannot see the results.

Quine turned around to face the villagers gathered in the clearing of the forest. Their pure eyes were moved by his tearful gaze and they approached one by one.

"My brothers and sisters, I need your help." Quine handed the book to the villagers as if passing on a flame. With the transmission of forbidden knowledge, the human spirit spread throughout the camp once again, followed by the passing of torches from hand to hand. The stargazers set off, driven by a stomach-churning sensation.