The Star of Ill Omen

Among the many celestial wonders of Aranath’s night sky, none inspire as much dread as the Star of Ill Omen, a piercing violet light that appears without pattern or warning, flaring briefly before vanishing again for years, even decades. It is not part of any known constellation, nor does it follow any discernible orbit. Its arrival is marked not by fanfare, but by a hush across the land, a collective tightening of breath, and the return of old fears.   The star is unnaturally bright, even when competing with a full moon, and its eerie purple hue cuts through clouds as if the sky itself recoils from it. Though it rarely lingers for more than a few nights, its presence leaves behind a subtle malaise. Reports from across Aranath describe livestock bolting in panic, predators behaving erratically, and birds falling silent. Sensitive mortals experience headaches, nausea, or sudden bursts of anxiety, as if something were brushing against the edges of their mind.   Though the Empire’s officials insists the star poses no physical threat, common folk know better. Tales abound of madness sparked beneath its glow, of misfortunes clustering like flies on a wound, of children born with strange marks or cursed talents. The bards sing of ruined harvests and poisoned wells, of shadows moving in candlelight and dreams too vivid to be dreams at all. Some borderland villages have even taken to lighting warding fires or offering sacrifices during its appearances, desperate to turn the eye of the heavens elsewhere.   Yet even these fears pale in comparison to the secret known only to a few scholars and elder Per'kasha: during the star’s rare appearances, a hidden curse awakens within their kind. Though extremely uncommon, there are documented incidents, quietly erased from caravan lore, where a Per'kasha undergoes a sudden, permanent transformation. The individual becomes a monstrous feline beast, warped in both body and mind, their form swelling with muscle, claws thickening into blades, and fur darkening into shadow. These creatures are not rabid but feral, retaining only fragments of their past self.   The afflicted rarely survive long, either slain by their kin or driven into the deep wilds of Bariatok. Among the Per'kasha, these transformations are referred to in whispers as the Mark of the Star. Whether it is a curse from the gods, a punishment for ancient sins, or a leftover weapon from the fall of their old civilization, none can say. But every caravan elder watches the skies with unease, and when the violet light returns, Per'kasha all across Aranath sleep with one eye open.