Cursed by Destiny

Chapter 1: Cursed by Destiny

The night air was unusually still. In Greywater, the wind often howled across the rolling plains, but tonight, not a single leaf stirred. Lucian Grey, just 18 years old, stood on the porch of his family's modest farmhouse, staring up at the sky with an inexplicable sense of unease.

It wasn't that the stars looked any different tonight, nor was there any sign of a coming storm. But something tugged at the back of his mind, a sense that the world was holding its breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as though something was watching from just beyond the horizon.

"Lucian, come inside!" his mother's voice called from behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He hesitated, his eyes lingering on the darkened fields for a moment longer. But there was nothing there—nothing except the endless stretch of farmland and the faint glow of the village in the distance.

With a quiet sigh, he turned and stepped inside.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the smell of fresh bread and stew. His mother, a kind woman with gentle eyes and a tired smile, set the table as his younger sister, Elise, bounced excitedly beside her.

"Did you see it, Lucian?" Elise asked, her eyes wide with wonder. "The comet! They say it's going to bring great change."

Lucian frowned, glancing at her. "A comet?"

His mother sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "Yes, the whole village has been talking about it. The priests say it's an omen."

"Omen," he muttered under his breath, feeling a knot form in his stomach. At 18, Lucian had never been one for superstitions, but the way the air felt tonight unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain. He prided himself on being grounded, logical, but something about the stillness gnawed at him.

"They say it's a sign of a new era," Elise continued, her voice filled with awe. "That someone great will rise!"

"Or fall," Lucian's mother added quietly, her expression darkening.

Lucian's father entered then, his large frame filling the doorway. "Enough talk of omens," he grunted, sitting heavily at the table. "We've got enough problems without worrying about what the sky has to say."

But Lucian couldn't shake the feeling that the comet, if it truly was an omen, held more significance than anyone realized.

---

The following morning, the village was buzzing with excitement. Lucian wandered through the market, his mind still preoccupied with the strange stillness of the night before. The townspeople, however, seemed to be in high spirits, chattering about the comet and what it might mean.

"Did you hear? The priests are gathering to interpret the omen!" one woman said excitedly, her arms full of bread.

"They say it could be the start of something great," another man added, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Lucian kept his head down, moving through the crowd, but he couldn't help overhearing snippets of conversation as he passed.

"An omen of change…" "A villain could rise from this…" "Dark times are coming…"

The words made his chest tighten, and a growing unease settled over him like a storm on the horizon. He quickened his pace, desperate to escape the oppressive buzz of the market. He didn't believe in omens. He didn't want to believe in them. But as he walked, he noticed the way people glanced at him—subtle, cautious, as if they already knew something he didn't.

Lucian felt their stares on him like daggers, pricking at his mind. His heart began to race, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. Why were they looking at him like that? What did they know that he didn't? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the village, a heavy weight had settled in his stomach. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to shake off the unease. It was just a comet. Just a strange occurrence in the sky. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder, so intense that he gasped. It was as if something beneath his skin was burning, tearing its way to the surface. He stumbled, clutching his shoulder, but when he pulled his hand away, there was no blood. Nothing but the persistent, throbbing ache.

His breath came in shallow bursts as he straightened, trying to regain control. What was that? He'd had the occasional ache before, but never this sharp, never so sudden. It was as if the pain was trying to tell him something. He pressed his hand to the spot, the skin tingling under his touch. He couldn't see it through his shirt, but the sensation was undeniable.

Not now, he thought. Not here. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but the villagers were too busy with their own gossip. Still, the weight of the pain lingered, as if something had awakened inside him.

But there wasn't time to dwell on it. The distant ringing of the village bells cut through the air, sharp and clear.

---

The village square was packed by the time Lucian arrived. People had gathered in a tight circle, their voices hushed as they stared at the stage where the village elders stood. At the center was Father Elias, the head priest of Greywater, a tall man with a severe expression and a long, flowing robe adorned with golden symbols.

"Brothers and sisters," Father Elias began, his voice carrying over the crowd, "we have consulted the sacred texts, and the comet has spoken."

Lucian's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't meant to stay—he had only come to see what the fuss was about. But now, standing at the edge of the crowd, he found himself unable to move. His pulse quickened, the dull ache in his shoulder reminding him of its presence.

"The comet marks the beginning of a new era," Father Elias continued, his eyes scanning the gathered villagers. "A great power is rising—one that will shape the future of this world. But it is not a power of light."

The crowd murmured nervously, and Lucian's blood ran cold.

"The prophecy foretells of one who will rise, a force of darkness destined to bring chaos and ruin to the land. A villain, chosen by fate, who will challenge the order of the world as we know it."

Villain. The word sent a chill down Lucian's spine. His hand instinctively pressed against the aching spot on his shoulder, his mind racing.

"Who is it?" someone in the crowd called out. "Who is this villain?"

Father Elias hesitated, his eyes flicking over the crowd again. And then, to Lucian's horror, his gaze landed squarely on him.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as heads turned in Lucian's direction. His heart pounded in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to run, to deny what was happening. But he couldn't move. He was frozen, trapped by the weight of their stares.

The sharp pain in his shoulder flared again, and Lucian winced, gritting his teeth to stifle a cry. His vision blurred as the world around him seemed to tilt. The mark... it had been there since birth, a faint blemish he'd never paid much attention to, hidden easily beneath his clothes. But now, it felt like it was coming to life.

"The comet's light," Father Elias said slowly, "has revealed the one who bears this fate."

"No," Lucian whispered, his throat tightening. His mind swirled, half in disbelief, half in terror. The mark had always been there, but he had never understood its purpose. Now, with every throb of pain, it was as if the truth was clawing its way to the surface.

Father Elias raised his hand, pointing directly at him, the gesture as heavy as a death sentence.

"You," the priest intoned, his voice like thunder. "Lucian Grey, you are the one destined to be the villain of this age."

The crowd erupted into chaos. People shouted, some backing away in fear, others staring at Lucian in horror or disgust. Lucian's mind reeled, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the full weight of the words settled over him. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears, and the burning pain in his shoulder pulsed in rhythm, as if the mark itself was affirming his fate.

Villain. He had been marked as the villain all along.

"Fate has chosen you," Father Elias said, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. "There is no escape from what is written."

Lucian's world collapsed around him. Faces blurred as the crowd's murmurs turned to panicked whispers. The pain in his shoulder seared as if the mark was demanding to be acknowledged. Fear clawed at his throat, and his legs finally gave way beneath him. He stumbled back, the reality of his fate crashing down on him like a wave of cold water.