Awakening my power proved... advantageous.
With Celia as my anchor, the chaotic energy crystallized. Soon, the title "Felicity" carried weight in the Whispering Woods.
Where beasts once sneered, now only trembling shadows remained.
Shapeshifting came with quirks.
Human form flickered like candlelight—
Ears tufted through braided hair.
A striped tail shredded silk skirts.
We wove contentment from these imperfections.
Then came the Purge.
On a morning veiled in unnatural fog, silver-clad cultivators descended.
"No demon spawn shall taint these mountains!" Their seals ignited ancient wards.
Creatures scattered like blown dandelion seeds.
Amidst the chaos, a bizarre whisper snaked through fleeing herds:
Silas Brooks, the Demon-Subduing Heir, was turning captured spirits into messengers.
A mangled fox spirit whimpered his exact words to us:
"Seek you a certain tiger? A soft-pawed simpleton who demands roasted fowl—"
(here the fox shuddered)
"—and scrapes off the skin like peeling poison?"