Chylouk, the poor man. He has become something so very terrible. I hear strange sounds in the night, and there are people disappearing in the village by the day— that thing is not my son.
A brief summary
My poor, poor son— he doesn't act the same anymore. Not a word was spoken since he returned— but I heard him laugh. By Auroul! that laugh! All this just to get a flower! A flower!The father begins to hear strange sounds coming from his son's bedroom at night— though he dares not to intrude, fearing what he may find. Villagers had began to disappear mysteriously— without a trace. Something was terribly wrong which the man almost wanted to run from.
First Ytrelilan, then Noux, Chuetillet, and Cihe— just about all those folk who dwelled along the edges of the village have disappeared!A notice was posted for any who passed by to investigate the matter. Folk began boarding their windows and rarely venturing out during the dark hours of night. A passing hunter found the notice and agreed to take on the job. Footprints and signs of a struggle were found behind the home of a freshly stolen villager— a path the hunter followed to find some unspeakable horror.
They found Chylouk, yes, but Chylouk was hunched over a corpse— his own chest torn open with ribs tearing into the flesh of his prey— like some terrible mouth was seated within his chest. His face warped and changed as he fed— and as the hunter moved to a better vantage point they saw that the face of Chylouk was gone— and replaced with that of the corpse before him.
The hunter did not wait to dispose of the creature, catching it by surprise, they sliced off the thing's head and presented it to the elder.
The name shall be expunged. None shall claim it after this terrible, terrible incident which will taint that string of syllables for all eternity.
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Author's Notes
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