Cast Out

Chapter 2: Cast Out

The crowd's murmurs had turned into full-blown panic by the time Lucian stumbled back into the narrow streets. Every face he passed was filled with fear and suspicion. Friends he had known all his life avoided his eyes, and children whispered behind their hands as he walked by.

Villain. The word echoed in his head, over and over, until he thought he might scream. How could this be happening? How could a simple farm boy like him be tied to such a cruel prophecy?

But no matter how much he wanted to deny it, the fear in the villagers' eyes was too real. The way they looked at him, as if he had already done something terrible, made his stomach twist. The rumors would spread quickly, and it wouldn't be long before the whole kingdom knew.

He hurried home, desperate to find some comfort, some sense of safety in the familiar walls of his house. A sharp, burning pain suddenly flared on his chest, just below his collarbone. He clutched at it, feeling something there—something that had never been there before. But he couldn't stop to look, not now.

When he stepped inside, his family's expressions told him everything.

His father stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, his face set in a grim line. His mother's eyes were red, as if she had been crying, and Elise peeked out from behind her, wide-eyed and terrified.

"Is it true?" his father asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Is it true what they're saying?"

Lucian opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could he say? That it was all a mistake? That he wasn't the villain they were all afraid of?

"I didn't do anything," he finally choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not—"

His father's fist slammed down on the table, making Lucian jump. "I warned you!" he growled. "I warned you about getting involved with those cursed prophecies! And now look what you've done!"

"I didn't ask for this!" Lucian shouted, his anger bubbling to the surface. "I didn't want any of this!"

But the words felt hollow, even to him. His father's glare, his mother's sobs, Elise's terrified gaze—it was all too much. The weight of the prophecy, the weight of their fear, was suffocating him.

"Maybe it would be best if you left," his father said coldly, his eyes hard. "For all our sakes."

Lucian felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Leave? His own family wanted him gone?

He turned without another word, slamming the door behind him as he stormed out into the cold night air. His chest was tight, his mind racing. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

And as he stood there, alone under the darkened sky, the weight of his fate pressed down on him, heavier than ever. His chest still burned where the pain had flared, and he pulled down the collar of his shirt to look. There, etched into his skin as if it had always been a part of him, was a dark, intricate mark. It seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a physical manifestation of the destiny that had just been thrust upon him.

His mind was spinning, his thoughts tangled in a mess of anger, confusion, and betrayal.

His family—his own family—wanted him gone.

They hadn't even tried to defend him. No questions, no attempt to understand. Just fear. Just a quick decision to cast him out and rid themselves of the "villain" in their midst.

The sting of their rejection was almost unbearable. His father's cold eyes, his mother's silence, Elise's frightened expression—those images burned themselves into his mind as he staggered down the path that led away from the house. He had nowhere to go. The village would never take him in now, not after what had been said. Even his old friends, the ones he used to play-fight with using wooden swords, had turned away from him in the square, their faces filled with uncertainty, with distrust.

Villain. The word echoed through his head, over and over, like a curse he couldn't escape. Was this what fate had in store for him? Was he truly doomed to become the monster they believed him to be?

Lucian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he walked faster, his boots crunching against the gravel beneath him. He could still hear the whispers in the distance, carried on the wind from the village. They were talking about him. They were always talking about him now.

He didn't know where he was going—he just needed to get away.

The stars overhead seemed cold and distant, flickering like the eyes of some higher power watching his every move, judging him, deciding his fate without his consent. His breath came in ragged gasps as he reached the edge of the forest, the dark silhouette of the trees looming before him like a barrier between the life he once knew and the uncertain future that now lay ahead.

He stopped at the treeline, his chest heaving, the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once. He was alone. He had nothing. No family. No home. No place in this world that wasn't defined by the prophecy that had cursed him.

For a moment, he considered turning back—begging his family to take him in, pleading for them to see him as they always had. But a bitter voice inside him quickly snuffed out that thought. They had already made their choice. He had seen it in their eyes. They didn't see him as their son anymore. They saw him as a threat.

"Maybe I am," Lucian muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a raw bitterness that surprised even him. His hands shook at his sides, and for the first time, he felt the stirrings of something dark, something dangerous, bubbling up inside him. It wasn't anger exactly—it was something deeper, something colder. It was a realization that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, the world would always see him as the villain.

"Fine," he whispered to the night air. "If they want a villain, I'll give them one."

He took a step forward, into the shadows of the forest. The world behind him—the village, his family, his old life—faded into the distance as he disappeared into the trees. The darkness swallowed him whole, but he didn't feel fear anymore. The bitterness, the anger, the resentment—they all churned inside him, fueling a new sense of purpose. He didn't know what that purpose was yet, but he knew one thing: he wouldn't let them control his fate. He wouldn't let them make him into the monster they feared. He would decide his own path, even if it led him into the very darkness they dreaded.