Chapter Text
Ewron has always been religious. Its not like he had any other choice, his parents made sure he was like that.
From an early age he learned that nothing in life is free. The gods, although in theory they love everyone endlessly, also expect something from you.
Altars, prayers, sacrifices.
Their mercy had never truly been 'boundless', so he didn't understand why everyone always said that.
He also didn't understand why he was usually the one who left the sacrifice.
His mother often told him that he was something special, chosen by higher powers, and that he should be proud of it. She kept repeating that his sacrifice was necessary, his duty as a believer. And as a child he never particularly questioned it, because for children the word of their parents is something sacred, an undeniable truth. After all, they are the ones who teach them what animals make sounds and what colors are called, so why would they lie now?
So when Mother told him to put his hand over the bowl in church, he did it. And when she knelt before him, holding a knife in both hands, mumbling something (probably a prayer he hadn't been taught yet), he simply stared. And when Mother then gently but surely, cut the wound open, from which blood slowly began to flow, he cried.
He sobbed, even screamed, because the pain was unbearable for such a small child, whose worst thing so far had been knee contusion. Instinctively he tried to break free, but his mother's hand (and some other hands that he didn't know who they belonged to, but in his panic he didn't care at all) gripped him tight, Holding him in place so the blood could flow into the vessel.
After that, everything else became hazy, he only remembers something being wrapped around his arm.
When he woke up the next day, as he expected, his mother told him that he had done well and that next time it would only be better.
'You'll get used to it,' she said as she cleaned the remaining blood from his hand.
And she was right.
After the first few times he stopped struggling and then screaming and crying. The pain no longer seemed as terrible as it once did.
The older he got, the more he learned that it was best if he simply didn't react at all, just kept a straight face and didn't say a word. He learned how to wrap the wound with a bandage himself after the ritual, even if it was difficult to do with one hand, and he learned how to clean the wound to prevent infection. He learned all this because he knew that was something expected from him - to do his job and then go away and not bother anyone.
He saw it in people's faces every time he did anything else.
In fact, most of the time anyone spent with him was at church mass, basic teachings like reading and writing, or church teachings. He didn't study like other children at school (whose existence he learned about by accident, overhearing other children's conversations). His teachers were his parents, the priest, or the most trusted people in their community.
He couldn't play normally with other children (and even when he could, they often avoided him), In fact, he spent all his time in the church or in the courtyard.
He didn't have his own house. Well, he was sure that his parents had a house to which they returned after evening masses, but his room was in the basement of the church.
His room was small, made entirely of old stone. In the middle, just opposite the door, there was a window with black rusty bars, which was his only source of light at night. To the right was his wooden bed, with a pillow and a heavy red blanket that almost never kept him warm enough (Or maybe it was the stone's fault, or maybe he was just always cold? He was never sure.). To the left was a desk, and above it a shelf with books so old, that sometimes he was afraid they would fall apart just by his touch.
He never particularly complained about it because it was something normal and he didn't know anything better.
Even though he shivered with cold and fear at night, wrapping his tail around his body to feel some kind of stability, he said nothing.
Because he had always been afraid of the dark - an irrational fear (as his father would say) that he had had since childhood and never grew out of.
He always associated the night with something bad, perhaps because he was punished mainly at night. He knew it was to make sure no one else would be able to hear his screams (even though, after all these years, he had long since stopped making any sounds.)
Ewron has always been a curious child, he didn't know why he was like that, but he was always drawn to the unknown. He always wanted to get to know the world around him - which, ironically, was forbidden to him. So he often broke these rules, sneaked out of his room, or whenever his guardians looked away for a moment, he ran out of the courtyard somewhere into the forest. The views were beautiful, in fact everything he saw there was amazing and he never understood how something so beautiful could be evil or bad for him.
But after each of his little 'adventures' that gave him a bit of freedom, he returned to reality where he later had to accept punishment for his 'sins'.
The church always seemed more terrifying at night, especially when he had to kneel right next to the outpost. He was ordered to pray aloud, confess to God the sins he had committed, and for each sin he uttered he was sometimes whipped, sometimes belted - over time he stopped making the distinction. He was not allowed to look away so that he could feel shame in the face of God, but to be honest, for a long time the lighting was so bad that there was only darkness all around.
And sometimes blood.
But that was okay, wasn't it? He deserved it, he defied the gods. He was ready to suffer any punishment for that moment of freedom he felt earlier, even if he sinned.
It didn't really make sense to him why what he was doing was an offense to the gods, since no scripture he had read (And he read every scripture from the church library several times, and was often even told to memorize certain chapters and footnotes.)That what he was doing was wrong.
Once, when he was still little, he had the courage to ask his Mother about it, she explained that the rules were different for him because he was 'special'.
But as he grew older, he realized that 'special' meant 'sacrifice'.
And the more he grew up, the more he realized that that was all he was to them, a sacrifice to be given to God.
The worst thing is that he understood it - he understood that nothing is for free and for his 'family' he was ready to give his blood and body, just so that the gods would treat them kindly. But at the end of the day, he would give anything for them, and they wanted nothing to do with him once he did his part.
They would roll their eyes whenever he tried to talk about anything other than church, or even if he showed any signs of being there outside of the rituals. He was always open to people and talkative, even if it took him years to learn and recognize their irritated looks as soon as he opened his mouth.
he was always described as too loud, too expressive, which never suited the solemnity of the place that was the church and the people around it. In fact, he never seemed to fit in there in any way - personality or appearance. He was the only person he knew who had ginger, almost red hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes. He was also the only hybrid he had ever seen, which often displeased people, especially when he showed any 'animal' traits. Excessive tail wagging, rotating ears to listen, showing claws, etc.
He always felt out of place until at some point in his life he realized that he didn't fit in at all. That he does not want to stay in the church for the rest of his days. He began to dream of freedom - he wanted to see the world from beyond the cold walls. But he knew it wasn't something easy to achieve, not only because of the guilt he felt at first, feeling he was betraying his family and the gods with his actions, but also because he knew they wouldn't just let him go.
So he learned to lie and manipulate so that his guardians would not sense that anything was wrong. He learned to sneak out better, Stealing money from people's pockets after mass and small items from the church when he was told to clean.
Telling half-truths and twisting facts while looking people straight in the eye has become second nature to him.
At first, every evening he knelt by the bed, saying additional prayers, apologizing to the gods for what he was doing. Over time, however, he stopped feeling guilty and it was replaced by determination.
Even if it was against higher powers and everything he knew, it was his only chance for the freedom he so desperately desired.
So finally, one warm night, he took with him some books, stolen money, and a lantern (He had practically nothing that was just his for the taking) He wrapped it in his red blanket and slipped away. He entered the forest, had no idea where he was going, and his only goal was to get as far away from the church as possible.
He wasn't sure how far he had walked, the forest was dark and everything seemed the same to him. He only remembers a whistling sound and then a stabbing pain in his shoulder. When he quickly turned his head, he saw an arrow stuck in his body and behind him stood a white bony figure staring at him. He didn't think long - in fact, he didn't think at all.
He started running forward, at a speed he never expected from himself. All around him he could hear only more sounds of whatever was lurking in the darkness, but he didn't stop, even when his legs ached and his lungs burned.
He stopped only when the forest was far forgotten behind him and he saw a light ahead - a village. He wasn't actually supposed to go there, his plan didn't go that far, But going towards to the light seemed like the logical solution to him.
Even though he still felt adrenaline pumping through his veins, he entered the first open building he saw.Basically a "bar" if you believe what was written on the door.
It seemed cozy inside - lots of plants, a few tables and chairs. It was almost empty except for a few people sitting together at one table. As soon as he entered, the bell above the door rang and the three men turned to look at him.
"Oh, stary." (Oh, man.) One of them snorted, scanning him. "Wyglądasz, jakbyś potrzebował drinka."
(You look like you need a drink.)
And he didn't know why—maybe it was still shock—but something inside him took that as an invitation. Maybe it was simply a desire to talk to someone outside the church circle? He wasn't sure, But his legs carried him towards their table.
The mug somehow found itself in front of him before he even had a chance to blink.
"Are you aware that you have an arrow in your shoulder?" One of them, with a brown beard asked.
Ewron turned his head to look, forgetting it was even there.
"Oh, yeah, I just kinda forgot.' He shruged his shoulders reflexively, which was a mistake when a moment later he felt pain shoot through him.
Bravo, genius. He scolded himself mentally.
"Jak powiedziałem, on definitywnie potrzebuje się napić." (Like I said, je definitely needs that beer.) The same voice from before laughed. Ewron looked at him and immediately noticed Unnatural animal ears, as if he were to guess it was a dog ears.He didn't even have time to process the news that he was seeing another hybrid for the first time in his life because a third voice spoke up.
"Nie kojarzę cię, nie jesteś z tąd"
(I don't recognize you, you're not from here.)
The voice sounded calm, almost accusatory, as if testing him.
"Tak, ja, um- nie z tąd." (Też, me, not form here.)He said quickly, not having the strength to explain anything more. "Tak Właściwie to wolałbym być jak najdalej stąd." (Actually, I'd really rather be as far away from here as possible) He laughed dryly.
All three gentlemen looked at each other as if each of them had a similar thought that Ewron could not read.
"Jak masz na imię?"
(What's your name?)
"Ewron." He responded quickly.
"Multi." One of them introduced himself, offering him his hand, which he accepted with a bit of hesitation.
They talked for almost the entire rest of the night - mostly about trivial things or their travel plans, which Ewron (to his own surprise) was invited to.
As soon as the sun began to rise, the four of them set off. He had no idea where he was going, although he was sure one of them had told him the name of the town, but honestly, he didn't care.
And that's how it started. His path to freedom and finding his true family.
They were not gods, nor church people - they did not expect his blood, body, or prayers.
Graf, Multi and Nexe became his family, no matter how often he annoyed them with his talking during the journey or how often he liked to tease them - They chose him anyway.
He dreamed and sometimes prayed to the gods that it would always be like this.
Unfortunately, he forgot one of the most important principle he was taught, that the gods always expect something in return.
And prayers are sometimes (Almost always) not enough.
And happiness (like everything else) is not free and does not last forever.
Nothing lasts forever, especially in the face of the gods.