TWINCEST CULTIVATION: a Tale of Vengeance

"Do you think the clouds look like a carrot?" Nakan asked, pointing skyward.

Ayin lay near the edge of Clara's small garden, her dirty pink fur now glistening faintly in the light as it began to regain some of its luster. The wounds she had carried for weeks were finally healing.

Tilting her head, she followed his finger.

The clouds swirled and drifted lazily, forming vague shapes against the blue expanse.

"That's because it's made of fluff!" Nakan laughed. "You've got a good imagination, Ayin!"

she said softly, though her voice carried a hint of warmth.

Clara emerged from the house, carrying a basket filled with herbs. "I was going to take these to the healer's hut. Would you like to come with me?"

Ayin hesitated, her eyes darting to her brother, who stood near the treeline, watching with his usual stern intensity. She knew he disapproved of her growing involvement with the humans, but something inside her stirred—a need to move forward, to understand more.

she said at last.

At the far edge of the village, a modest structure surrounded by a riot of colorful flowers stood. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, filled with the mingling scents of dried herbs and burning incense.

It was the village's healer but.

The healer, an old woman with kind eyes and weathered hands, greeted warmly. "Ah, Clara. And this must be the one you've been caring for."

She knelt, studying Ayin with a mixture of curiosity and compassion.

Telepathic voice echoed in Ayin mind, causing her to shocked.

The old woman chuckled,

Ayin was curious.

She patted Ayin's head,

Ayin wanted to ask more, but the old woman doesn't seem to have the same ideas.

"She's a gentle soul, isn't she?" the healer said, looking to Clara.

"She is." Clara nodded. "And smarter than any magical beast I've ever met."

"She is a Elden beast."

"WHAT?!" Clara shock couldn't be more apparent as she looked at Ayin with fixed gaze, "But didn't you said they had extinct already? Ah, sorry about that, Ayin!"

"Then I guess you're the last of your kind?"

Ayin couldn't help but feel uneasy, as this is was the first time someone recognize what was she,

Seeing her troubled face, the healer didn't press more.

She reached for a small jar filled with a thick green salve. "This should help with any lingering pain from your wounds. It's made from the sap of bloodwood trees. We used to trade it with beast tribes a long time ago."

Ayin's ears perked up at the mention of beast tribes.

The healer nodded. "Long before the Eltsopa began their rise to power, humans and beasts lived in a delicate balance. We shared the land, sometimes even helped one another. But things changed. Fear and greed have a way of breaking what should be sacred."

She continued in telepathic voice between them only,

<…can you tell me everything you know?> Ayin fidgeting,

the healer smiled warmly,

Ayin absorbed the words quietly, her heart aching. She could sense the sincerity in the healer's voice, a faint echo of a world that might have been.

…

As they left the hut, Ayin glanced at Clara.

Clara glanced back, her eyes carried sympathy, "Not much. I've never ever saw one. You're.. like noble in human society… but I heard that you've gone extinct three hundred years ago."

"Let's not talk about it for now," Clara but her with almost a whisper, "Let's wait till you get better first."

Ayin curiousity was piqued, but she could hear concern for her sake in Clara's voice, so she didn't press further. They are walked in silence before she asked again.

Clara thought for a moment before answering. "I'd like to think so. But it would take time, and effort, and a lot of forgiveness."

Ayin lowered her gaze.

Forgiveness—

The word felt heavy, almost too much to grasp. How could she forgive what had been done to her family? How could she forgive the humans who had torn her world apart?

"You're too slow, Ayin!" Nakan called over his shoulder as he run.

she replied, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

Nakan stopped suddenly, turning to face her with a thoughtful expression. "You know, you're not as scary as you looked when I first saw you."

"Indeed," Clara smiled, agreed with her son.

Ayin tilted her head.

He nodded. "A little. But now I think you're… kind of amazing."

Her gaze softened.

They walked together for a while before Clara decided to take turn to go to the market, leaving the boy and the beast alone. But even so, the silence between them comfortable.

"Do you hate us?" Nakan asked suddenly, his voice hesitant.

Ayin stopped, her ears flicking as she considered his question.

The boy smiled faintly.

she said simply.

The sun was warm on their backs as they walked along the dusty village road.

Around them, the villagers went about their day—children splashing in a shallow stream, an old man dozing under a tree, and a woman calling out prices for freshly baked bread.

At this moment, though, something stirred in Ayin's mind. She hesitated at first, but since Clara wasn't there, she walked a few steps closer before whispering through her telepathy,

"Yes?"

Ayin smiled dismissively.

"Oh come on, you can say anything and I won't get angry!" he raised his pinky, "I promise!"

Ayin hesitated for a minute before asking carefully,

In that instant, Nakan stiffened, his steps faltering. "What... what about it?"

Lan glanced down, her fingers tightening. Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, the memory making her stomach twist in a way she didn't quite understand.

Ayin and Zesh may be a beast, but they didn't mindless nor deviate from any norm. In contrary, their parents did their best to educate them ethically, this includes how they hide that fact that they're siblings. In one of their teaching, Kaska always said family is supposed to look out for each other, to respect each other, to protect each other. But what Ayin heard all these night didn't sound like that.

Nakan stopped walking, his face turning pale. "Ayin, you... you shouldn't talk about things like that."

Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

"Please don't tell anyone," Nakan took a step back, his face pale despite the heat of the sun. "You don't understand. It's not what you think—"

Ayin interrupted, her voice still soft.

Nakan swallowed hard, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. "Ayin, please. Don't... don't tell anyone," he said in a hushed voice.

"You wouldn't understand."

Nakan winced at her words, his head hanging low. "It's not... it's not that simple," he muttered, barely audible.

Ayin pressed, pleading.

"Please!" he said sharply, though his voice cracked. He glanced around, as if afraid someone might overhear.

Ayin bit her lip, confusion and unease swirling inside her. she said gently.

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes darting to hers for a brief moment before looking away again. "Just... forget it, okay?"

Ayin opened her mouth to press further but stopped when she saw the look in his eyes—guilt, fear, and something else she couldn't name.

she said softly, her telepathic barely audible.

"You've done nothing to be sorry for." Nakan shook his head, his smile weak and forced. "Just... don't speak of it again. Please."

Ayin nodded hesitantly.

The world around her seemed unchanged—villagers chatting, children laughing—but Ayin knew something had shifted. Something had broken, and no amount of pretend would fix it.

…

That night, the moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale silver glow over the village while the forest around was alive with faint rustlings and distant calls of nocturnal creatures.

Ayin spoke softly through their telepathy.

She was laying near the hearth, her glowing eyes reflecting the flickering firelight while her bother paced restlessly in the corner, his dark form a shadow against the walls.

Zesh stopped mid-stride and turned to her,

Ayin sighed, resting her head on her paws. ,

Zesh growled low in his throat.

Her voice rose slightly, a rare edge in her tone.

Zesh's jaw tightened.

Her sister flinched, the memories surging back unbidden.

The red flames dancing wildly.

The desperate and helpless screams.

The mangled bodies of their father lying in a pool of blood.

Ayin closed her eyes tightly, she continue in whisper,

Zesh stepped closer, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

She looked up at him, her gaze steady despite the tears threatening to spill.

Zesh recoiled as if struck.

For a moment, his expression softened, but it quickly hardened again.

Ayin's voice cracked, the weight of her grief spilling over.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with emotion.

His claws dug into the floorboards, his chest heaving.

she replied, her voice soft but unwavering.

Zesh let out a harsh laugh, bitter and hollow.

Ayin continued cautiously, sensing the tension in his posture.

He turned to her, his violet eyes sharp.

she said softly.

Zesh scoffed, but there was no real anger behind it.

He studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the faint rainbow glow that had returned to her pink fur. Meanwhile he was but all black with faint rainbow luster.

he said finally.

she replied.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. At that time Ayin didn't saw it directly, or from the start to finish, but he did. Zesh saw how their father died, his last roar, his last glare, his desperate eyes—all of it, formed a chaotic current in his brain along with what his sister just said. The village around them bustled with life, the faint hum of human voices blending with the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, Zesh sighed.

Ayin smiled, her heart swelling with hope.

And for the first time since their parents' death, Zesh allowed himself to feel a sliver of warmth—not for the humans, but for the peace he brought to his sister.