CHAPTER ONE
Six hundred years ago, there lived beings that were not human. They were monsters and creatures that existed beyond the realm of mortal understanding. These beings, with their twisted forms and insatiable appetites, roamed the land, striking fear into the hearts of the people.
The monsters had all disappeared, except for one - Liam, the last surviving member of his kind.
In a small town called Spokane, the peace was shattered as it was raided by a band of ruthless pirates. The once-thriving settlement was reduced to ashes, leaving its inhabitants homeless and desperate. The same fate befell other mountain villages, scattering the survivors in search of shelter.
As the villagers trudged through the snow-covered paths, they were beset by a growing concern - the rumors of a monstrous creature that lurked in the mountains. This "corpse-eating monster" was said to prowl the uphill trails, instilling terror in the hearts of those who dared to venture too close.
Among the beleaguered survivors was a pregnant woman, her belly heavy with the burden of new life. Alongside her stood her husband, their journey a desperate attempt to find a safe haven for their unborn child.
As they climbed the snow-covered path late into the night, the villagers suddenly encountered a horrifying sight. A hulking, distorted figure, its jaws dripping with the remnants of its recent feast, stood before them - Jomagu, the corpse-eating monster.
The pregnant woman, overcome with fear, moved closer to the beast. In a chilling moment, she offered her unborn baby to Jomagu, hoping to appease the monster and spare her child from the horrors that lay ahead.
Jomagu, taken aback by the woman's actions, turned and fled. The husband, filled with a mixture of pity and bewilderment, asked his wife about her reason for such a desperate act.
"This baby is cursed," she replied, her voice trembling. "It must not be born. The monsters will come and find our baby."
The eerie silence of the mountain path was broken only by the howling of the wind.
The husband, desperate to calm his wife's distress, pleaded with her to snap out of her trance. "Please, you must listen to me!" he cried, his voice tinged with concern.
But the woman remained steadfast in her belief, repeating over and over, "Orixas is coming. Orixas is coming." Her words, laced with a sense of impending doom, sent a chill down the husband's spine.
The following day, as the rain poured down in a steady, rhythmic beat, the husband realized with a sinking heart that his wife had vanished. Driven by a growing sense of dread, he set out to search for her in the forest nearby, his footsteps splashing through the snow-covered path.
The grisly sight that greeted him shattered his world. There, hanging lifeless from a tree, was his wife, her eyes staring lifelessly into the distance. Beside her, the newborn baby dangled, its tiny body coated in blood, the placenta lying nearby.
The survivors gathered, their expressions a mix of confusion and sorrow. What had driven the woman to take her own life, and that of her unborn child? The husband, his heart heavy with grief, clutched the baby close, his tears mingling with the rain.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the sombre silence. "It should have never been born. It should have died with its mother," uttered a vision seer, his eyes narrowed with a haunting certainty.
The villagers turned to the seer, their faces etched with bewilderment. "What do you mean?" one of them asked, as the seer moved towards the husband and the silent, uncry baby.
"Orixas has cursed the baby," the seer declared, her words carrying a weight that seemed to settle like a heavy shroud over the gathered crowd. "It has no soul, and therefore, it can not be killed."
The villagers' confusion gave way to a growing sense of terror as the seer continued, "Orixas has a grudge against your baby from a previous life. Once it has a grudge, it will chase their soul to the end."
Silence fell, interrupted only by the steady patter of rain and the villagers' collective gasps of horror. The implications of the seer's words hung in the air, leaving them all wondering what dreadful fate awaited them in the face of Orixas' relentless pursuit.
The crisp, icy wind whistled through the snow-covered pine trees as the young boy, now a decade older, trudged through the thick blanket of brown that blanketed the mountainside. His footsteps crunched softly in the powdery snow, a sombre echo of the tragedy that had unfolded here years ago.
As he approached the old, gnarled tree where his mother had met her fate, the boy's eyes darkened with a haunting awareness of the past. He paused, his breath visible in the frigid air, and reached out a gloved hand to trace the rough bark as if seeking some connection to the memory.
Suddenly, the sound of voices reached his ears, and the boy quickly ducked behind a nearby snowdrift, peering cautiously through the icy crystals. Two of the villagers came into view, their faces twisted with a mixture of hatred and disgust towards him as they spat on the ground.
Dejected, the boy let out a muffled sob, the tears freezing on his cheeks as he watched the men disappear into the distance.
Life in the isolated mountain village had grown increasingly harsh. Famine gripped the community, and the villagers struggled to eke out a living. Some of the men were too weak from hunger to even work the fields, their energy sapped by the constant struggle for survival.
"Farming and lovemaking require different kinds of energy," one of the men said to his companion, then find me a wife,He replied."You wouldn't understand, being a bachelor!"
The other man replied jokingly, "No one would marry you with that ugly face!" With that, he excused himself, hurrying away towards the nearby forest, his stomach apparently in distress.
Moments later, a piercing scream rents the air, echoing across the snow-laden peaks. The man's friend raced into the forest, calling out his name in growing panic. After a desperate search, he found the body of his companion brutally dragged up into the branches of a tree. Fear gripped him, and he let out a haunting wail that sent shivers down the spine.
The lifeless body was carried back to the small, haunted village, the pregnant wife of the deceased man weeping uncontrollably. The surviving friend stood in stunned silence, his face a mask of devastation. "Four of the villagers had now either disappeared or been found dead, their intestines intact but drained of blood - a grisly sign that the Orixas, the spirits of the land, had claimed them." They thought.
And throughout it all, the young boy, the cursed one, remained nameless, a constant reminder of the tragedy that had befallen the village. His father, gripped by fear, had long since fled, leaving the child in the care of a friend, with a bribe for a bottle of liquor. He had failed to protect him.
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