The restless winds of the storm allowed no one to sleep in the village of Silverstar. The storm brewing earlier that day proved to be a destructive one; perhaps they've done something to anger the gods. One family, however, felt almost undisturbed by the loud drops of rain or the haunting moans of the wind passing through the trees. They were huddled together, telling stories in front of the warm fireplace, while waiting for their dinner to cook. It was all that they needed.
Their storytelling was disturbed by a weak knock on the door. A sense of alarm filled the room but it quickly dissipated. The father figured it was someone who needed help or someone whose home was destroyed. It was not uncommon, especially with a storm as strong as this. He opened the door and saw a little girl, wrapped in a thin blanket, lying on the ground. He quickly took her in and let her lie down near the fireplace. Removing the dirty blanket that the little girl wore, he grabbed a fresh, dry blanket and wrapped the girl with it. The eldest daughter then took the discarded blanket and hung it at the opposite end of the room but was alarmed when she saw blood on it.
"Father!" she called "Check if the little one has a-"
A small, sharp object fell from the blanket. The younger brother picked it up, inspecting it meticulously.
"It's a small knife, made from glass. The fabric was used as a handle" the younger brother muttered, unwinding the fabric tied to one end of the glass.
"Poor girl" the mother remarked. "She must have been trying to defend herself... But where could she have come from?"
"Is she even from Silverstar?"
The family exchanged glances. Silverstar was a small village in an island so everybody knew each other. Her red hair and caramel skin looked nothing like anyone from their village. Even if she came from the families near the shore, her red hair would still make people talk... Anything deviating from the usual lives of people in the village would surely go around.
"Something is wrong."
Surprised, the family turned to the blanket-clad girl. Her eyes were now open, her gaze blank. She got up and moved as if in a trance. The little girl walked closer to the fireplace, staring at the crackling flames. The family watched in trepidation as she put her hand over the flames, seemingly unhurt. The mother willed herself to move but she couldn't. It was as if she was held down by a heavy weight. The girl moved her hand away from the fire.
"I sense evil in this house." she muttered, turning to the frightened family, her words making their faces pale. "The evil still haunts you no matter what you do."
They instantly knew what that was. The father glanced at the flames, seeing something he never thought he'd see again. For years, they did their best to redeem themselves for what they had done. It seems it still was not enough.
The girl walked towards the makeshift knife, the pointed glass cutting her skin. Blood dripped from her wound and fell to the ground but she didn't seem to feel anything at all. She faced the father. "You are fortunate to receive such a wonderful gift from them."
The rains and winds grew louder, drowning out the screams of the family, as if helping the little girl in her act.
The morning after, the streets were littered with fallen trees and debris. Neighbours checked on each other and one elderly man checked on the family of four by his house. He knocked on their door, fixing a small basket of of bread to give them. When no one answered, he assumed they were still asleep. He knocked once more... still none. Suddenly, the door opened ajar. He smiled. That young boy must still be shy of his presence. He opened the door and gasped at the sight, dropping the basket and running towards the Head Elder's house.