The sun hung dimly in the sky, cracked by gray clouds.
Sheena ran, her legs trembling and her breath cutting through the air like a dull knife, signaling her despair. The ground beneath her—once bright and warm—had transformed into cold, stinging dust, as if attempting to block her path. Having crossed the threshold of prolonged exile that had confined her, she was now embarking on an unexpected journey full of uncertainty; a journey that shook her soul and challenged her courage.
The tower that had once imprisoned her with its cold and terrifying walls was now far behind, a mere shadow on the horizon.
Before her lay the nearly deserted town market, evoking a hauntingly melancholic atmosphere. The traders had closed their once-bustling stalls, leaving behind a silence that was only interrupted by the sighing wind, carrying memories of laughter and joy. The cheerful sounds of children playing and the rhythmic clatter of trains that used to fill the air had long since disappeared, replaced by an eerie and tense silence that marked a profound loss for the entire community.
Yet, the aroma of warm bread and tempting pastries lingered, floating in the air, reminding her of better times.
Her body could no longer endure, weary from the struggle against hunger and weakness.
Bruk.
Sheena fell among the sharp and unwelcoming street stones. Her knees scraped against the rough surface, blood dripping down onto the dry ground. Her hands trembled, unable to support her weight.
Her stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl, reminiscent of a wild beast forgotten in the darkness. It had been days since she last ate, and even water betrayed her—everything she touched seemed to turn into unenjoyable gold, heavy and burdensome in her hands, confirming her dire state of starvation.
"I will die here," Sheena thought in profound despair, reflecting her entanglement in the darkness and hopelessness.
"To die nameless, to die as a walking curse that never ends."
But the world would not permit so simple and empty an ending.
A warmth touched her cheek.
"Hey, are you okay?" His gentle voice enveloped the space between them, bringing a warmth capable of melting the fear that gripped Sheena's heart. Each heartbeat had an erratic rhythm, sometimes surging and sometimes fading, triggered by the soft touch of the young man's hand. She felt warmth not only from the hand that reached out but also from a deeper strength—a long-buried hope, hidden amidst the darkness that had enveloped her life.
Slowly, Sheena turned her head, a movement made difficult by the stiffness in her neck. "Don't... don't come closer," she warned, her voice trembling even though her heart ached to grasp the warmth being offered. "My curse can reach anyone."
Yet, the young man stood his ground, unwavering, his eyes radiating an unshakeable calm, as if he were a beacon in the midst of a storm. He paused for a moment, absorbing all the fear that loomed over Sheena, creating a safe space between them. "I am not afraid. Your curse is not mine," he said gently, as if wishing to dissolve the panic that shrouded their souls.
Sheena waited, feeling the palpable tension between them, one hand reaching out softly, holding a warm cake that released the sweet aroma of honey and wheat, tickling her senses. As their fingers intertwined, it was as if electricity coursed between them, and she could not help but feel the gentle touch that seemed to reignite a long-lost hope. However, the sense of safety that began to emerge faded alongside her fear, causing her to take a step back, holding her breath in a cloud of hesitation.
"This is more dangerous for both of us," he said with a tone of doubt, his gaze piercing into her red eyes, as calm as the night before a storm brews. "If you continue to stay with me, you might also be cursed, drawn into my unwanted dark tale."
"Better to be cursed if it means I can help you," she replied, her voice firm and filled with empathy, as if trying to create a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounded them—warming the cold, tense atmosphere. Sheena felt the anxiety she couldn't hide, but it was accompanied by a burning spirit—a bond that tethered them together in a fog of sorrow and swirling hopes, as if they were trapped in a never-ending cycle of despair.
She didn't know what drove this young man to care, but deep within her, that hope hummed, echoing amid the fear that still gripped her tightly.
She opened her eyes.
A young man stood before her, his reddish-silver hair seeming to glow in the dim light, and his red eyes radiating the calm before the storm—a striking contrast against the surrounding darkness. In his hand was a piece of warm cake, the aroma of honey and wheat wafting into the cold air of the market, creating a tantalizing sensation that was a stark rarity in such dire circumstances.
"Take this. You need it," he said gently, with genuine concern.
Sheena turned her face away, her chest trembling violently, a reminder of the relentless inner turmoil she faced. "Don't... don't touch me. If you hold me, you will—" her words trailed off, bound by the conflicting emotions of fear and desire, a tug-of-war between hope and anxiety.
Her voice quavered, each word imbued with deep-seated fear. She fell silent, trapped in uncertainty, unable to explain the impending darkness, caught between the urge to fight and the need to flee.
The young man shook his head, his gaze filled with understanding and tenderness, as if absorbing every fragment of the fear that haunted Sheena. His smile was gentle, neither mocking nor forcing, but conveying a profound commitment. He remained patient, quietly waiting as Sheena's doubts began to recede. "I have decided to help. The risk is not your concern," he said, his voice firm yet warm.
Sheena brushed away his hand, feeling a wave of vibration wash over her as the closeness challenged all her fears. However, the young man knelt, inching closer with a cautious demeanor, as if afraid that approaching too quickly would make her flee. When their fingers touched—nothing happened. As that touch flowed between them, Sheena paused for a moment, experiencing a warmth that gently coursed through her, something she had never imagined could exist in her life. There was a soft vibration that stirred her soul, as her fear battled with the newfound comfort, like morning dew refreshing the air after a dark night.
There were no glimmering golds, no hidden poisons. Only warm skin meeting warm skin, accompanied by the quickening of heartbeats, creating a rhythm of hope that was newly born, a rhythm that seemed capable of changing fate. Sheena's eyes widened, filled with wonder and deep astonishment, as if she had just rediscovered a part of herself that had been lost.
"What... how is this possible...?"
The young man simply offered a calming smile, gently lifting a blanket on his shoulder. He then revealed a baby girl sleeping peacefully, her warm blanket seemingly yearning for the light of love in the midst of this world's darkness. The baby had dark hair shimmering with silvery-blue highlights, and her cheeks were rosy despite the cold night air. In the young man's gaze lay a warmth that seemed to challenge the curse that bound Sheena.
"I don't know why your curse doesn't affect me. Maybe it's because I... am different." These words stirred a flicker of hesitant hope within Sheena, leaving her mind perplexed. She turned to look at the baby in her arms.
"And she is too."
Sheena could only gaze with eyes brimming with emotion, her chest tightening from the blend of fear and hope entwined within her. For the first time in years, she felt someone looking at her without fear. No one was running away. No one was cursing her. In profound emotion, warm tears began to flow at the corners of her eyes—a sign of hope that might have seemed faint, but was now reborn with a new light.
The young man helped her stand, his hands warm and strong as he gently yet firmly supported her shoulders. Without exchanging a single word, they walked together towards an old house on the outskirts of town—a weathered wooden structure surrounded by a silent forest, inhabited only by the shadows of the past and the soft whispers of the night breeze, which carried the damp scent of the earth. Sheena's heart raced, a mix of fear and hope filling her chest as they finally sought shelter inside.
A small flame was lit, casting a soft and warm glow in the midst of the terrifying darkness, as if it could chase away the chilling presence that had frozen their souls and signify a new beginning. Sheena sat cross-legged, hugging her knees tightly, trying to catch her breath while her gaze rested on the young man, who gently fed a baby he called Rinoa—a simple act yet brimming with meaning. The little one laughed joyfully as the young man offered her honey, the sound of laughter warming Sheena's heart just a little more, rekindling the love that had long been buried within her.
"What is your name?" Sheena asked, her voice almost a whisper, tinged with vulnerability and a longing to connect, yet fraught with fear of what might unfold in this mysterious world.
The young man fell silent for a moment, his deep eyes seemingly searching the depths of his being for the right answer. "I... do not have a name that holds significance in this world. However, for now, you may call me anything you wish," he replied with a calm smile, hinting at a wisdom and humility that contrasted with the doubts weighing on Sheena's heart. "For now, just consider me a wanderer in search of the meaning of everything that exists."
Sheena lowered her gaze, stifling a sob as tears fell from her eyes. It wasn't due to suffering, but rather a relief that flowed like a river, lifting the unbearable burden she had carried for so long—a burden that had woven a fabric of loneliness around her heart.
"Thank you. I... I had long forgotten what it feels like to be touched without fear," she said, her voice trembling. She felt a gentle vibration as the young man's fingers brushed the back of her hand, as if his touch was a bridge reconnecting her to the warmth of lost love, a precious feeling for Sheena, who felt alienated in the darkness of loneliness.
Outside the old house, the metaphorical night wind carried the rustling sounds of leaves, serving as a silent witness to their meeting—a natural recital that encapsulated the intimacy of the moment and the significance of their first steps in overcoming fear, as they began the arduous journey of rediscovering the humanity they had lost.