The Child and the Huntress

Liora walked through the Volx settlement, the weight of the infant heavy in her arms. The jungle air was thick with the scent of damp earth and burning wood, but it did little to mask the whispers that followed her.

"She brought a child back?"

"A war-born, no less."

"What madness is this?"

The villagers of the Volx were a hardened people, outcasts from Rainin who had long abandoned the war-driven ways of the other clans. They did not trust outsiders—especially not a child whose very birth had caused an Omen.

Yet here she was, carrying him through their home as if he belonged.

The settlement itself was built into the jungle, with homes nestled between the massive roots of ancient trees, woven bridges connecting platforms high above the forest floor. Fires flickered in stone pits, casting shifting shadows against the wood and vine walls. Warriors sharpened their blades, children chased each other through narrow pathways, and elders sat in deep discussion over herbal mixtures and carved charms.

Liora ignored the murmurs and continued walking, her destination clear—the central gathering hall, where Varek, the clan leader, would be waiting.

As she approached, a voice called out.

"You should've left him where you found him, Liora."

She turned to see Taron, one of the more outspoken warriors, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He stood beside a group of hunters, their gazes sharp with judgment.

"He would've died," she said simply.

"Maybe he was supposed to," Taron shot back. "The jungle does not take the unworthy, but it takes those who do not belong."

Liora's grip on the child tightened. "And who decides that? You?"

A few of the hunters chuckled, but Taron's face remained hard. "You know what he is," he said. "An Omen-born. Marked by the gods for war. He carries Rainin's blood—their blood. If they cast him out, why should we take him in?"

Liora's jaw clenched. She had expected resistance, but not so soon. "Because the gods spared him," she said. "Because fate put him in our path."

Taron scoffed. "Or because you've let your bleeding heart make a foolish decision."

Before Liora could respond, a deep voice interrupted.

"Enough."

The crowd turned as Varek stepped forward. The Volx clan leader was an imposing man, his braided silver hair resting against his shoulders, his amber eyes unreadable. He carried himself with a quiet authority, and when he spoke, people listened.

Liora met his gaze as he approached. "I see you brought more than just meat from your hunt," he said, his eyes flickering to the child in her arms.

A few villagers chuckled at the statement, one even muttering, "I knew the chief liked his meals fresh, but this is something else."

Liora rolled her eyes. "I wasn't going to leave him to die."

Varek studied her for a long moment before glancing at the gathered villagers. "And what do the rest of you think?"

Murmurs spread through the crowd. Some voices called for the child to be sent back into the jungle. Others were less certain.

"He carries Rainin's blood," an elder said. "That alone is reason to cast him out."

"But if he was left to die," another countered, "then is he truly one of them?"

"He is an Omen-born," someone else muttered. "That is not something we should ignore."

Varek held up a hand, silencing the discussion. He turned back to Liora. "You claim the gods spared him. Why?"

Liora hesitated. She wasn't one for omens and prophecies, but…

"I don't know," she admitted. "But he was left in the jungle, and the jungle did not take him. That must mean something."

Varek was silent for a moment before nodding. "Perhaps." He turned to the crowd. "The gods have placed this child in our hands, whether for a blessing or a curse. But we are Volx. We do not kill our own, nor do we turn away the helpless."

More murmurs spread through the crowd, but this time, they were less hostile. Some still looked uneasy, but others seemed intrigued.

Varek exhaled. "Very well. The child will stay."

A few voices protested, but he silenced them with a look. "If fate has brought him here, then it will be fate that decides his future. Until then, he will be raised as one of us."

Liora felt a weight lift from her chest.

"But understand this," Varek said, his eyes locking onto hers. "This choice is now yours to bear, Liora. You brought him here. You will raise him. His life is your responsibility."

Liora nodded, her grip on the child firm. "I understand."

Varek held her gaze for a moment longer before stepping back. "Then it is decided."

With that, the villagers slowly began to disperse, some still whispering, others watching with curiosity. Taron gave Liora one last look before shaking his head and walking away.

Liora exhaled and looked down at the child in her arms. His dark eyes, flecked with gold, stared up at her, unblinking.

"You don't even know what kind of trouble you've caused, do you?" she murmured.

The baby simply blinked, his tiny fingers curling against her skin.

Liora sighed. "Alright, little one. I guess you're stuck with me now."

And so, the Omen-born was given a place among the Volx.

His past had been cast away. His future remained unwritten.

For now, he was simply a child.

But fate was watching. And fate was never kind.