Era of Aberration

Of wolves and nests

The ground trembled as a distant howl echoed through the forest, the sound of beasts moving closer. Garrus looked back at the child, who had returned to its feast, its small body drenched in the blood of its kill. He couldn't leave it here. Not like this.

"I'll be damned," he muttered to himself, slipping the dart away and extending his hand toward the child. "Come with me, little monster."

The child stared at him for a moment, blood dripping from its chin, before finally moving toward him. It didn't speak, but the unspoken agreement between them was clear.

As Garrus lifted the child into his arms, he could feel the weight of its presence, like holding the future of destruction itself. Whatever this creature was, whatever it was destined to become, the old man knew one thing for certain:

This child would change everything.

Together, they vanished into the forest, the night air thick with the coming storm. Behind them, the forest lay silent, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the calamity to begin.

____________

Years passed in the village of Trula, though it was easy for time to slip by unnoticed here, where the days blurred into one another, and the arches of purple light crossed the sky in a steady, unchanging rhythm. Life, for the most part, remained as simple as it had always been—at least on the surface. Beneath the quiet and humble existence of the village, something strange was brewing.

Garrus kept a close watch on the child he had taken in, raising him in secret on the outskirts of the village. The villagers knew nothing of the boy's origins, only that Garrus had brought him home from one of his hunts, claiming the child was an orphan lost to the wilds. And perhaps, in a way, that was true. The boy, whom Garrus had named Tarak, was no ordinary child.

Even at the age of seven, Tarak had grown faster and stronger than any child his age should have. His height reached beyond his years, already standing taller than most of the children in the village, and his eyes—those strange, dual-colored eyes—held a calmness far too mature for someone so young. There was something else too, something Garrus could not quite understand, but felt deeply whenever Tarak was near. A quiet but overwhelming sense of power.

He was older now and today he would fight.

The stillness of the forest was deceptive. The villagers of Trula rarely ventured too deep into its heart, knowing well that the woods harbored more than just beasts. It had been quiet for years, save for the occasional hunts Garrus undertook, yet tonight, something unnatural stirred beneath the ancient trees.

Tarak stood near the outskirts of the village, watching the sky once again. The arches of purple light had crossed for the day, and the pale moons glowed above, casting long shadows through the trees. His stance was calm, his expression indifferent as usual, but within him, something was waking.

His lower two eyes remained shut, hidden from the world, but the heightened senses that came with his nature hummed just beneath the surface. For most of his young life, Tarak had kept himself distant from the others—both the village children and the strange Virya that pulsed within him. Yet today, that separation felt... tenuous. The air was thick with tension.

Garrus had warned him earlier in the day. Something was coming. Something worse than the usual forest beasts.

As if on cue, a sharp howl pierced the night air, followed by a chorus of answering howls from the shadows. Tarak's eyes narrowed as he focused on the sound. He had heard the rumors of the gnoll clans—creatures with the blood of wolves—once powerful, now scattered and broken. But desperation made any creature dangerous.