The fury still blazed in my chest as I tore through the misty haze.
Exiled.
One cold glance from the woman I thought was my mother, and I was cast out of the Caelora Empire without so much as a question.
I knew I'd made a grave mistake, but to be banished this quickly? I hadn't seen it coming. What now?
A faint memory flickered in my mind, like a glimpse from a parallel world: I'd been exiled before, but I'd earned my way back by exposing the plans of the "bad guys," giving everyone time to evacuate. It was my only hope. Without hesitation, I set off to find them—the so-called "bad guys."
My people, the Caelorans, were celestial beings living in a heavenly realm. Blessed with beauty and near-eternal lives, we—mostly women—draped ourselves in resplendent gowns. We were taught we were the good ones, tasked with maintaining order and opposing the Caelan Beast Alliance. They were the outcasts, banished from Caelora long ago, transformed into beastly hybrids harboring bitter resentment and dreams of revenge. To us, they were crude, dangerous, always cloaked in somber black.
My memory guided me to a white-painted iron gate. Beyond it lay a lush, humid jungle, its trees shimmering as if kissed by a recent storm.
I lingered outside, scoping the area, but saw no movement. Frustration crept in, and just as I turned to leave, a voice rang out:
"Who's there?"
I froze, scanning the empty surroundings for a place to hide, but there was none. As I stood there, flustered, a black fox emerged from behind the gate. Its fur gleamed with golden flecks, like a creature from myth, but instinct screamed danger, sending a shiver down my spine.
Before I could stammer a response, it spoke: "Ami? What are you doing here?"
I blinked, then gave an awkward laugh, scratching my head foolishly.
"Uh… well… I got exiled from Caelora, so…"
"I see," the fox said, its tone unsurprised.
"Come in. Orson's waiting for you."
I went rigid. Orson? Why would he be waiting for me? Confused but curious, I followed.
The damp earth squelched underfoot, and the eerie trees loomed like silent watchers.
I walked cautiously, racking my brain for something friendly to say—anything to avoid becoming their next meal.
The fox led me to a grand wooden building, its ancient architecture majestic yet shrouded in misty enchantment, like a scene from a fairy tale. At the massive door, I swallowed hard, hesitating.
"Is this… okay?"
Before I could process, the fox transformed into a man, leaving me gaping. He wore a sleek black robe in an ancient Eastern style, exuding an air of nobility. His warm, steady voice cut through my shock:
"Relax, you're fine."
The door creaked open with a spine-chilling groan.
I stepped inside, hunching nervously in the dim space, barely able to see. Why do they always keep everything so dark? I grumbled inwardly, glancing at the fox-man, now towering and intimidating despite his cool demeanor.
As I walked, I suddenly crashed into something. "Ow!" I stumbled back, realizing the fox-man had stopped, standing rigidly with his hands clasped behind his back.
"I've brought her," he announced.
"Who are you talking to?" I blurted, still disoriented.
Before I could make sense of it, sparks flared on either side, blinding me. I squeezed my eyes shut, then slowly opened them as they adjusted.
The scene came into focus, and I stammered, "W-Why… are there so many people here?"
Then, inexplicably, I fainted on the spot. Gods, how embarrassing, passing out in front of a crowd!
When I came to, my face felt cool and wet—they'd splashed water on me to wake me up.
"No regard for delicate flowers, huh?" I muttered, then shrank back, flashing a sheepish grin under their stern gazes.
Before me sat a man on a throne, likely the Beast King. He eyed me with a half-glance, his scant clothing far less refined than the fox-man's.
"Why are you here?" His deep voice snapped me back to reality.
I shot back impulsively, "Why do you think? You guys brought me here!"
Then, catching myself, I slapped a hand over my mouth and forced a nervous laugh. "I-I mean, heh, I followed the fox-man here."
"The fox-man?" A chuckle broke out. The fox-man smirked, and others joined in. Only then did I notice the group around the leader—beastfolk in human form, all stunningly beautiful. My weakness for pretty faces kicked in, and I couldn't help but stare.
"Ugh," the leader sighed, rising slowly and approaching me. Panic surged as I looked around for help, but no one moved. As he closed in, I shrieked,
"AAA, I'm sorry, don't eat me!"
Silence followed. I peeked up, stunned. That face… why did it feel so familiar? I stared, speechless.
The leader, Bear, said nothing, just hoisted me up and carried me outside. Flailing in confusion, I shouted, "Put me down! Where are you taking me?"
I shot a desperate glance at the fox-man, but the jerk just looked away, ignoring me.
----
I thrashed until exhaustion won, then slumped, asking calmly, "Do you know me?"
He stayed silent, and I thought he'd ignored me, but after a moment, a curt "Mm" escaped him.
That's it? I screamed internally but kept a fake smile.
"Uh… if I ever wronged you before, I'm sorry, I forgot, but… my meat's not tasty, honest!" I pleaded, trying to sound pitiful.
"I'm not eating you," Bear said flatly.
"Not eating? Phew!" I exhaled, relieved, but then tensed again.
"Wait, then where are you taking me?"
By then, he'd carried me to a small hut by a vast lake, or something like it, shrouded in mist.
He set me down gently, then knelt on one knee, lifting my foot to remove my shoe.
"Hey! What are you doing?" I yelped, but when I saw my swollen, blistered feet, I froze.
"Ouch!" I groaned.
Bear produced a jar of cream, applying it carefully, blowing softly on the wounds. My face burned with embarrassment. How did he know my feet hurt? And why was this half-dressed, intimidating guy being so gentle?
I sat there, flustered, stammering, "I-I can do it myself." I reached for the jar, expecting him to insist, but he looked at me briefly and handed it over.
I felt oddly disappointed, thinking, Fine, I've got hands and feet, I'll do it!
But before I could, he took my other foot, resuming his careful work.
Make up your mind, man! My head spun, torn between his actions and the warnings drilled into me by Caelora, especially my mother: "Beastfolk are cruel, filthy, always scheming to invade our prosperity…"
Really? This guy, their leader, cruel? He seemed almost… shy, too reserved for his own good.
Lost in thought, I leaned closer, staring at him, questions swirling.
"Something wrong?" Bear asked, not looking up, his voice low.
I jolted upright, turning away with a nervous laugh to hide my embarrassment. When he didn't react, I dared to ask softly, "How… how do you know me?"
"Secret," he replied, deadpan. I froze, thrown by the shift from his quiet demeanor to this cryptic tease.
A secret? Chills ran through me. So he wasn't just some introverted lug—he could play coy, too.
"Ha-ha… my bad, I'm not that sharp," I said with a forced laugh, playing nice since I was at his mercy.
"Done," Bear said, standing and sitting beside me.
"Hmph…" I couldn't stop watching his every move, unsure why I was so fixated.
"You hungry?" he asked suddenly, startling me again. First the cream, now food? Too nice, or is there a catch?Fattening me up to eat me later? My mind raced with absurd thoughts.
"Uh… not really…" I lied, though my stomach growled loudly, empty since my exile nearly a day ago.
"Spicy chicken hotpot, pastries, mashed avocado, lotus seed pudding…" Bear listed off.
Stop it! My favorite foods—how did he know? I screamed internally, clutching my stomach and turning away to resist.
"You sure you're not eating?" he asked one last time, pausing before standing. Some impulse made me grab his arm. Too late to back out now.
"Actually… a little food wouldn't hurt, heh," I said, my face probably red as a baboon's.
I swear he smiled, though I couldn't see clearly. Forget dignity, I want to die of shame! I tried to stand to hide my embarrassment, but my swollen feet wouldn't budge. As I fumbled, Bear slipped an arm under my knees and lifted me—princess style, straight out of a fairy tale!
My face burned. "I can walk, really, put me down," I mumbled, but he glanced at my feet, saying, "Not with those feet." I started to argue, "I'm fine, I can handle—" but one look at his intense eyes shut me up.
I clammed up, too spooked to protest.