Vox Populi | Luke Castellan

The first law of tragedies: the end is already written and inevitable.

Rin Nakamura is born with the taste of carrion in her mouth and the future coiled like a noose around her neck. Fate waits, patient as a butcher, sharpening its knives on her spine, and every step she takes leaves something of her behind, shreds of mercy and ribbons of doubt sloughing off like skin torn from muscle. She is hollowed slowly, lovingly, until there is more vacancy than girl, until her insides echo with the voices of things older and hungrier than gods. When the world finally splits her open, it is not a surprise. Her blood soaks into the soil as if it has always belonged there, and the prophecy closes its mouth around her bones, satisfied.