Under the exit lights《camren》

The Legend of the Great Child

A/N: Strap in, cause you're gonna want to pay attention lol. Love you and thank you for reading :)

In common folklore, the legend of the great child is one that most people do not believe. Mainly because the story is just too horrible to comprehend, and because people want to believe that there can be no such evil to exist in the world.

But the story is true. All too true. A tale as true as the beginning of time itself.

And it starts with a little girl.

This little girl lived in the little village of Merico in the middle of the mountains, the towering hills of the ranges surrounding them north, south, east and west.

The village of Merico was one of great relevance to the history of forgotten time. A place many now forget even existed in the past, yet know the story of it's people all too well.

But just as a story, and nothing else. Stories so horrible are preferred to remain fictional.

The little girl, of around ten years of age, was very beautiful, and would often be commended for her beauty within the tribe as a goddess rather than a mortal. Many marveled at her looks, and the chief was proud to call her his daughter.

She went by the name of Lola.

Princess Lola was a boisterous child, always getting herself up to trouble and playing tricks on the tribesmen elders. She would leave sparklers in their chambers, set wild wolf puppies to burst into their meetings, drop water packets on people who walked below the roofs of houses on a hot day.

In normal circumstances, a member of the tribe would be banished for such acts. But the elders, as well as the entire tribe, held a sweet spot for young Lola.

She was a kind little girl, respectful when she had to be, always quick to a smile, always the bright shine that enveloped a room. She was admired by all for her beauty, yes, but she was adored even more for her caring and happy nature.

The tribe was known for their kind people and extravagant parties, a destination many other tribes came to for celebrations and feasts. It was a well known and cherished society, one which many other tribes strived to be, but this tribe held a secret.

I suppose you can take a guess, right?

They were werewolves.

They were very secretive when it came to their origins, but many humans overlooked their secrecy in favor of their hospitality and celebratory accommodations. They would hunt game in the forestry surrounding them, always careful to steer clear of human habitats.

They were happy, and prosperous, and beloved by all.

But that changed rapidly over the course of one night. Just one. A night that changed it all.

Back in the days of old, the Gods were well and alive, often prone to interfere with mortal lives. They learnt their lessons and do not appear so frequently now, but back then they did.

They were able to blend in as a normal mortal of any form. A werewolf, vampire, caster, fairy, ghost, even a human. Anything they desired. They held eternal power that most dreamed of, yet they were as flawed as any other.

Unfortunately, there was one that abused his power obsessively, as there usually is. He was an evil being, practically the embodiment of such, and he wanted more. More power, more influence, more followers, more everything. Yes, he had it all, but he was blinded by his need for more.

His name was not spoken in the days, but he was indirectly referred to as 'The evil one'. People described him to appear as a normal human, handsome even, but there was always this cloud around him, this shadow of danger.