Eira woke up with the quiet warmth of morning brushing through the cracked window. She went through her usual routine—stretching her stiff limbs, cleaning the old sheets, and organizing the supplies she stored in the makeshift shelves. The rhythm of her routine grounded her. It kept the thoughts from creeping in too early.
When the time came to pick herbs, she slung her gathering bag over her shoulder and stepped outside. The sunlight met her face immediately. She raised a hand to shield her eyes... and froze.
There, A yellow circle. Bright and unblinking. It's not the sun. But an eye. It flashed in her mind like an imprint burned behind her eyelids.
She stood there, still in the doorway, scanning the ruins with a slow, careful gaze. Rubble. Stone. Wind brushing the dry grass. She shifted her stance, trying to listen. There was nothing. Not a sound, save the distant chirp of morning birds and the whisper of breeze. Yet her body stayed tense. Her muscles coiled, her reflexes ready.
It was watching her. She was sure of it now. That black feline. That one small, lean, and with one eye like burnished gold. It wasn’t a dream. It had been real. It is real, and still here. But where?
Seconds ticked by. She counted them by breath. Ten... eleven... nothing moved.
With a quiet exhale, Eira turned and walked down the path toward the herb patch, eyes still flicking to the corners of her vision. She didn’t let her guard down. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as though the earth beneath her might change shape.
If it was following her, it would show itself again. And this time, she would be ready.
---
Another day passed without much to mark it. No strange visitors nor haunting dreams. That was, until the heat set in.
It was a hot afternoon, the kind of hot that clung to the skin and turned every breath into an effort. Even the trees in the forest offered no protection from the heat.
Eira wiped the sweat from her brow and kept walking, the ruins almost within reach. She raised her waterskin for a drink, only to feel its weightless emptiness.
A sigh escaped her lips. No choice, then. She turned her path, veering slightly uphill toward the old spring she found weeks ago, nestled between mossy stones and low ferns. It wasn’t far.
When she reached it, the air around the spring felt cooler, gentler. She knelt beside the clear water, carefully uncorked the waterskin, and dipped it in until it filled with a soft gurgle. Setting it aside, she cupped her hands and drank directly, relishing the fresh and cool taste.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
One handful. Another. Then a third. And then she saw it.
Across the spring, seated like a shadow painted on stone, was a cat. A cat with a black sleek and untamed fur, glinting faintly in the light that filtered through the canopy.
Its yellow eyes locked onto her. It licked its paw once. Twice. Then its gaze locked onto hers. Eira froze. This was no longer a trick of the mind. No fever dream. No imagined omen. The cat was real. It chose to be seen.
She swallowed and asked, softly, “What are you? Why do you show yourself to me?”
The cat didn’t blink. It didn’t answer. Instead, it turned its head, slowly, deliberately toward the surface of the spring.
Eira followed its gaze, leaning forward until her own reflection came into view.
And there—just faintly, just for a moment—her eyes were not their usual color. They glowed. A quiet, steady yellow. Not blazing, not piercing, but calm.
She jerked back slightly, her breath catching. The reflection rippled and the glow vanished, as though it had never been. She stared at the water, waiting for it to return, but the spring now only showed her tired face, damp from sweat and confusion.
She turned back to the cat but it was gone. The forest was silent, but something inside her had changed. Her eyes. The yellow eyes were not just the cat’s. They were hers too. Or more like, they were now hers too.
---
Eira woke with the sun warming her through a crack in the stone wall. Again. It's morning again. The ruins groaned softly with the wind as it passed by the worn down pillars and broken walls. She lay still for a while, her eyes blinking slowly.
Yellow. That thought returned before anything else. Not her chores, not food, nor even study. It was the cat.
She sat up, brows furrowed, trying to piece it all together. The stare, the spring, the reflection, her eyes glowing like molten gold. Why? What did it mean?
She shook her head and pushed herself up from her bedding. Enough. Routine goes first.
She swept the chamber, packed away her sleeping cloth, and prepared her little cooking spot. The motions calmed her, but only slightly. Her thoughts kept drifting back.
While checking her inventory of herbs—bundles of dried leaves, roots sorted in pouches, sprigs hanging from twine—she realized something odd.
There was more than she needed. Much more, in fact. Enough to last days without needing to forage.
She paused, fingers lightly resting on a jar of blueleaf. A strange feeling welled in her chest. Was it curiosity? Unease? She's not sure but she certainly felt a tug from within. And with that, her decision was made.
Instead of heading toward the forest paths she usually took to harvest, she stepped into the sunlit outer court of the ruins. The warmth soaked into her skin, and she shaded her eyes as she looked out. She was looking for it now. For the cat.
As she walked slowly across the overgrown trail, her mind was filled with thoughts, unanswered and unrelenting thoughts.
Why do I have yellow eyes? The same color as the cat’s.
Is it coincidence? A trick?
Did the cat… give me its eyes? What does it mean?
What can these eyes even do?
Are they magical? Cursed? Something older?
And the lady who vanished… is she different than the cat? Or are they connected somehow?
What does she have to do with the cat?
Too many questions… too many with no answer.
Her boots crunched over dry leaves, and her shadow stretched long ahead. The forest offered no reply, only the rustle of wind in the branches and the soft hum of cicadas hiding from the heat.
She stopped. She felt it. Somewhere deep in this silence, she felt watched again. Not threatened. Just… seen.
Info Dump #12:
- Alongside the awakening of magic in the world. Magic in all living things also awakened. Most only awakened miniscule amount of magic, to a point where it doesn't even register. A few however, awakened more than the combined amount of 20 living beings. Beasts in that situation evolves into magical beasts.