The golden sun blazed over the dunes as the festival of blood began. Drums thundered, warriors clashed, and the crowd roared with savage delight. At the center of it all, upon his throne carved from ivory and obsidian, sat the king—revered as a god, feared as a monster. His eyes gleamed like a predator watching prey, lips curling into a smile each time steel tore through flesh.

When the last fighter’s scream faded into silence, servants hurried to present him with treasures from distant lands—gems, silks, ivory tusks. Yet one gift silenced the hall: a small cage, wrought in bronze, holding something none had ever seen. The king leaned forward, his cruel amusement flickering into wonder.

Inside, a tiny figure shifted. Not beast, not child—something else entirely. The crowd gasped; some whispered prayers, others cursed in fear. It was no ordinary animal but a delicate creature, pale and strange, bearing the shape of a human yet adorned with soft ears atop its head. Its size was hardly greater than the span of a hand, and yet it carried an air of purity that stilled even the most brutal hearts.

The king’s fingers brushed the bars, his voice low, filled with a curious hunger. The priests murmured warnings, the soldiers stiffened, and the people bowed their heads, for to harm or cage what resembled a cat was a crime against their gods. But the king only smiled, dark and intrigued.

All eyes widened as they realized the little being was no myth. The king leaned closer, slowly, he asked.

"Why our god.. The symbol of our country was in cage.." He glared at the man who brought the kitty here.