The laughter of children echoed through the narrow streets of Oakhaven, a stark contrast to the growing unease that clung to the village like a shroud. Rayna, now sixteen, walked alongside her childhood friend, Liam. He was tall and sturdy, with a warm smile that had always been a comforting presence in her life. Today, however, a shadow seemed to lurk behind his eyes. "The rumors are growing bolder, Rayna," Liam said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "They say the sickness in the south is spreading, that it's… unnatural."
Rayna frowned. "Mother says it's just a particularly virulent strain. That the healers in the larger cities will find a cure."
Liam shook his head. "Some whisper of a curse, a darkness unleashed. They say the veil is thinning, that the old magic is stirring."
Rayna scoffed, though a shiver ran down her spine. "Those are just stories, Liam. Like the tales of the Sunstone Goddess."
"But what if they're not?" Liam stopped, his gaze intense. "What if the old magic is real, and it's to blame for this sickness? What if… what if someone is using it?"
The unease in the village had indeed been escalating. The whispers had turned into accusations, fear twisting familiar faces into masks of suspicion. It started subtly – a failed harvest blamed on a neighbor's "unlucky" presence, a child's fever attributed to a supposed curse. But it was growing, feeding on itself, and Rayna could feel the change in the air, thick with mistrust.
One evening, a group of villagers, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of torches, gathered outside Rayna's cottage. Liam stood at the front, his usual warmth replaced by a hard resolve. "Lyra," he called out, his voice ringing with a newfound authority. "We know you possess the veil-sight. We know you see things we cannot. Tell us, what is the cause of this sickness? What must we do?"
Rayna stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. "My mother is a healer, Liam. She uses her knowledge of herbs and remedies to help us. She has nothing to do with this!"
"But the stories…" a woman cried from the crowd, her voice laced with fear. "The stories say those with the veil-sight are touched by the old magic, by the darkness!"
Lyra emerged from the cottage, her face pale but her gaze steady. "I have never used magic to harm anyone. My only desire is to heal."
"Lies!" a voice shouted. "You hide the truth from us! You protect the source of this plague!"
The crowd surged forward, torches raised like weapons. Rayna tried to intervene, but Liam held her back, his grip surprisingly strong. "For the good of the village, Rayna," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "We must know the truth."
The scene became a blur of shouts, accusations, and the crackling of flames as the villagers, driven by fear and suspicion, set fire to the cottage. Rayna watched in horror as the flames engulfed her home, her mother's screams echoing in the night. Liam's grip loosened, and she pushed past him, desperate to reach her mother, but the heat was unbearable. She remembered a searing pain, the smell of burning flesh, and then… nothing.
When Rayna awoke, the world was a haze of pain. Her skin was raw and blistered, her vision blurred. She was lying on the outskirts of the village, the charred remains of her cottage a smoldering pyre in the distance. Her mother was gone. A wave of grief washed over her, so intense it felt like a physical blow. But beneath the grief, a flicker of something else ignited – a burning rage, a desire for vengeance. And as she looked down at her burned hands, she saw it – a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer, the veil-sight, now stronger, clearer, pulsing with a light that was not her own. It was the light of the Sundrop Flower, a power she never knew she possessed, a power that had saved her from the flames, but at a terrible cost. And in that moment, as the smoke from her burning home choked the air, Rayna knew her life in Oakhaven was over. She would leave this place of betrayal and death, and she would find a way to control this power, this burning light within her.