THE SEER BY FABS

The first time Aria saw death, she was five years old. She had been playing outside the old cottage where she lived with her mother, chasing fireflies as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. The world had felt safe then, small and warm, cradled by the thick forests that surrounded their home. But then— The vision struck. It came like a sudden gust of wind, sweeping her away from the present and into something else. A man. His face was pale, his lips parted as if caught mid-scream. His hands clawed at his throat, his eyes bulging with terror. Behind him, a figure loomed, obscured by darkness, holding a glinting blade. Then—blood. A horrible, wet gurgling noise. The man fell. And just like that, the vision was gone. Aria stumbled backward, gasping, her small hands clutching at her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Her head throbbed, her body cold despite the summer air. She had never seen the man before, yet she knew—he was going to die. Tears stung her eyes as she ran inside, searching for her mother. “Momma! Momma!” she sobbed, gripping her mother’s skirts with tiny fingers. Her mother knelt, brushing Aria’s wild curls from her face. “What is it, love? What happened?” Aria tried to explain. The vision. The man. The certainty of his death. Her mother’s face paled. Her hands tightened on Aria’s shoulders. “You must never speak of this,” she whispered. “Never, do you understand?” Aria shook her head, confused. “But I have to warn him—“ “No!” Her mother’s voice was sharp. Too sharp. “You cannot. People will not understand.” “But—“ Her mother’s hands cupped her face, softer this time. “Promise me, Aria.” Tears slid down Aria’s cheeks. “…I promise.” And so she swallowed her fear, her confusion, her desperate need to help. That night, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the vision. The next morning, the village bell tolled. A man had been found dead. His throat slit. Just as she had seen. That was the first time. But it would not be the last. Years passed, but the visions never stopped. They came without warning—sometimes in dreams, sometimes when she touched someone’s hand, sometimes when she least expected it. And no matter how hard she tried to ignore them, to push them away, they always came true. She learned to hide them. She learned to smile even when she felt like screaming. Because the world did not take kindly to girls who saw things they shouldn’t. And yet, despite her efforts, the whispers began. “Strange girl.” “Cursed.” “Unnatural.” The village folk eyed her warily. Mothers pulled their children away when she passed. Shopkeepers hesitated before handing her goods, their fingers grazing hers for the briefest second before recoiling, as if afraid she might see something about them. She was alone. Until Callan. Callan had been different. He was one of the few people who still spoke to her, who still treated her like she was human. She told herself she wouldn’t get attached, that she wouldn’t let herself hope— But she had. And that hope had shattered the day she saw his death. It had been the worst vision yet. Callan, lying in a pool of his own blood. His chest rising and falling in ragged gasps, his hand reaching—toward her. His lips forming her name. Then—stillness. She had warned him. She had begged him not to go into the forest that night. He had laughed it off, ruffling her hair. “Aria, you worry too much. I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t. The next morning, his body was found exactly as she had seen. The village turned against her completely after that. “She knew!” “She must have done it!” “She’s cursed!” And Aria—Aria had nothing left to say. She didn’t fight back. She didn’t try to plead her innocence. Because deep down, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, they were right. Maybe her visions weren’t just glimpses of fate. Maybe they were warnings. Maybe they were curses. And maybe— Maybe she was meant to be alone. The rain poured heavily as she walked, her cloak soaked through, her boots sinking into the mud. She didn’t know where she was going. She only knew she couldn’t stay. Not anymore. The village had made that clear. A sharp gust of wind blew through the trees, sending a chill through her bones. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself and pressed forward. The road stretched on, winding through the forest like a serpent. The trees loomed tall and gnarled, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers against the dark sky. Then— A noise. A rustling in the bushes. Aria froze. She wasn’t alone. Her heart pounded as she turned, scanning the shadows. A flicker of movement. Something—or someone—was watching her. She gripped the hilt of her small dagger, the one Callan had given her months ago, and took a cautious step back. A whisper drifted through the trees, barely audible over the rain. “Seer.” The word sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t the first time she had heard it. But this time—this time, it wasn’t spoken with fear. It was spoken with reverence. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. “Who’s there?” Silence. Then— A figure stepped from the shadows. Tall. Cloaked. Its face obscured. But its eyes— They glowed. Aria’s breath hitched. She should have run. She should have screamed. But instead— She stayed. Because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t just seeing something terrifying. She was a part of it. And deep down—deep in the marrow of her bones— She knew that whatever happened next… Her life would never be the same. The figure stood motionless, its glowing eyes locked onto Aria. The rain fell heavier now, drumming against the earth in a steady rhythm, masking the sound of her own erratic breathing. She tightened her grip on her dagger. “Who are you?” she asked again, her voice steady despite the cold fear creeping up her spine.