The rays of the bright sun illuminated the land from a cloudless azure sky as the village of Eir was filled with merchants and travelers on a heat-haze day. The standing buildings could be mistaken for old temples from afar with their coats of red and murals of gold.

With the main road blocked off, the village prospered from the street market and passing travelers. All seemed to go too well until a boy ran through the crowd, forcing it to split in a zigzag pattern as if the seas decided to part one morning. His messy, white as snow hair caused him to stand out from the other children in the crowd, along with his ragged clothes. His crimson-red eyes immediately struck fear into those around him while a loaf of bread was in his hands.

Not too far behind, three guards chased him. They wore light, leather armor over their everyday clothing along with a scimitar sheathed on their waist.

The boy quickly and carefully navigated his way through the crowded sea, running into an alley. He stuck the bread loaf in his mouth as he climbed the stacks of wooden boxes. As he reached the top, the local guards caught up and tried to climb as well. However, the boy nudged the top box over, causing it to come crashing down and toppling the pile onto his pursuers. He glanced back and took a bite out of the loaf. The boy laughed at them before running away on the black rooftop.

The captain was an older, bearded man seething with anger. He turned around and faced the other guards behind him. "Catch that boy! Pray Lord Tartarus helps us, our pride is on the line! If that accursed child gets away again, you can all kiss your jobs goodbye!" the old man yelled, causing his subordinates to salute and run back into the crowd.

Feeling confident that he wouldn't be captured, the boy ran from rooftop to rooftop. He sat down on the edge of a black rooftop with red accents. A large ornament of a golden dragon was behind him, overlooking the streets and giving him shade from the heavy sun.

He quickly took several bites out of the bread and let out a sigh of relief as his stomach growled loudly. As he was about to take another bite, he heard several footsteps come around the golden statue. The boy quickly stood up as the guards from earlier carefully moved around the statue with their swords drawn like a hunter cornering its prey. They slowly approached him, causing him to walk backward with his hands raised.

"Why can’t you all just leave me alone?" he asked and felt something small was knocked off the roof. He glanced over his shoulder and found himself on the edge with no near rooftop to escape to.

"C'mon kid, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be." one of the guards said in a stern voice.

"Oh, blah blah blah," he mocked them. "First, my name isn't 'kid'. It's Xander. Get it right for once, Buckethead. Secondly," he glanced over his shoulder once more and saw several horse-drawn carts carrying large piles of hay coming on the streets below. "I'm not going to let any of you chain me up to that wall again!" He jumped back off the black rooftop and into one of the passing carts.

The pursuers peeked over the edge, only to find Xander vanished from sight.

Surrounded by hay, Xander let out a sigh and clutched his left arm but winced at the slightest touch. He felt the cart come to a sudden stop. He peeked out from within the hay pile and carefully looked around. No one as far as he could see. Xander hopped out and patted down his clothes, removing any stray pieces of hay. Everything seemed fine until he felt something cold and metallic clamp around his wrist.

With a scimitar sheathed on their waist and leather armor strapped around their body, a guard walked by Xander as they tightly grasped a chain in their hand. Xander’s gaze followed the chain to the clamp around his wrist as his face sank with fear. They tugged the chain, silently motioning to Xander that it’s time to face the masses.

He pulled against the chain over and over as he was dragged through the crowded street. Passing by the contempt glares, the young boy stuck his tongue out at them. The onlookers whispered among themselves their disgust and hatred toward a cursed child.

“I don’t wanna!” Xander pulled with all the strength he could muster, but it was no use. “No!” A mere child was powerless against an adult. Exhausted from all the running and pulling, he had no other choice but to comply.

Not too far behind, a small, hooded figure navigated their way through the sea of travelers. They clumsily bumped into surrounding adults and apologized at every turn. The murmurs among the crowd grew louder each second as the small figure noticed Xander was forcefully dragged along. Setting their sights on the boy drowning in scorn, the hooded figure squeezed through the crowded street as they followed him.

Xander couldn’t avoid the hate-filled gaze of everyone around him but even when he tried to avert his eyes to the ground, he couldn’t ignore that despicable feeling. He was forced to walk up and onto a wooden stage, where two armed guards stood tall at both sides of a stone wall in the center. They took the chain connected to Xander’s shackle and bound him to it as he had no other choice but to face the crowd of onlookers.

The captain of the village’s guard stepped up to the stage. With a stern look, he faced toward the crowd as he glanced sideways at Xander before returning his focus to the audience. “Travelers! Merchants! Visitors from across this fair land of Imoris. I, Cahya Eifa, Captain of the Eir Guardsmen, welcome you all to our humble village.” He spread his arms before letting them drop to his side. “Unfortunately,” he pointed back at Xander. “Even our home cannot escape the plague that was the Cursed Generation,” he let out a sigh. “We tried to help this little one, but he turned down our offer and nearly brought this village to ruin.”

“He’s lying!” Xander yelled out, instantly gaining the attention of several travelers.

“Now,” Captain Eifa scoffed, “Would you believe a child that was denied by the gods and blessed by demons or a representative of the law?”

The whispers among the crowd grew louder and louder.

“There used to be more children like this one,” Captain Eifa stood at the edge of the stage. “They’d be safe and sound if it wasn’t for this little monster and his attempt at ruin.”

“I didn’t kill them!” Xander pleaded as his voice cracked. “I-I didn’t! I tried to save them!”

Captain Eifa cracked his neck and walked up to Xander. The old man kneeled to look at the cursed child in his ruby-tinted eyes. “It’s in best interest for all of us if you keep your mouth shut, boy. If you know what’s good for you.” The old man stood and faced the murmuring audience.

Xander took a deep breath and yelled with all his might, “These people blame others for their failure! They couldn’t even rescue my friends from the rubble of an old home! Instead, they forced it all on me…”

Captain Eifa glanced between the crowd and the boy. With his metal glove and a clenched fist, Eifa backhanded Xander strong enough to daze him. The old man was seething with rage as he turned to the populace. “A child of the Cursed Generation could only ever speak words that he does not fully understand. His kind has only brought ruin to us. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I already said that’s not true! Don’t listen to him!” Xander begged as tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

“The guilty will always try to beg for mercy.” A twisted grin flashed across the old captain’s face. “It’s time the voices of the many reach the ears of the gods above. Show them your undying loyalty.” Captain Eifa, along with his subordinates, stepped down from the wooden stage.

First, there was silence as Xander braced himself for the pain to come. The first stone was thrown, and baseless accusations followed. Blamed for a failing tavern, rotten fruit was hurled at the boy. Believed to be the culprit for the deaths of loved ones, locals with their eyes filled with hate threw whatever trash they could find at him. While half of what was thrown barely inflicted any pain, the other half surely did. Stones, bricks, whatever was solid enough to hurt a terrified child would reach him. He couldn’t cower and protect himself from everyone. The shackles that bound him kept his arms against the wall. Xander couldn’t even sit down to rest his legs when his strength already faded. All the profanities and all the hate, he couldn’t help but believe the world was against him.

Of all the objects thrown, the impact of a brick to the head forced him to lose consciousness as he drowned with scorn.

                                                                ***

Time slowly passed by and the evening sun began to set with a rising moon across from it. The large crowd slowly dwindled to none as the remnants of everything thrown were littered around the stage. Tired and wounded, Xander stared down at the ground with dead eyes.

A small, hooded figure ran up to the stage in a hurry. They looked around, making sure the coast was clear before climbing up. Carefully stepping around the litter without tripping or slipping, they squatted in front of Xander to look into his crimson-red eyes. They noticed a trail of dried blood that ran from his forehead and down his right cheek.

“Hey,” a young, female voice came from the small stranger.

Xander didn’t reply.

The stranger sighed. “I know you’re not dead.”

“Go away,” Xander said weakly.

“Oh, you can talk.” She tilted her head. “And why should I?”

“They’ll kill you if they see you talking to me.”

The stranger stood up and picked up a nearby rock. “You know,” she said as she hit it against a rusted portion of the chain over and over. “I’m not afraid of some old coots or whatever stuff they want to yell so much.”

The rust eventually gave in and the chain the bound Xander broke into two. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. Staring down at the metal shackle, Xander let out a sigh.

“What’s your name?” she asked as she squatted down again.

“Why are you helping me?” Xander barely looked in their direction.

“That… didn’t really answer my question.”

“I’m one of the Cursed,” he scoffed. “A normal person would run off screaming or try to kill me.”

The stranger removed her hood. Their upturned eyes radiated a crimson hue, while her silky, long hair was reminiscent of snow.

“My name is Aurora Noel,” she said with a warm smile. She held out her hand toward him. “And you are?”