Despite the tragedy that happened right on the day he was born and despite the cruelty of the people surrounding him, Saint never lost the kindness in his heart. He is never jaded or spiteful to anyone for his fate. In fact, he is a fairly cheerful person.
To earn his living, Saint works at his uncle and aunt's barn. The couple are some of the luckier people in the village because they still had some livestock, no matter how few. They had some cows and some chickens - albeit skinny and dehydrated. Ever since it stopped raining, all the water they can spare goes to the animals to try and keep them from dying like so many of the other livestock in the village.
Obviously, Saint is not treated like family here but more like a farmhand and so he has to earn everything - food, water, and the small room he sleeps in. He is still grateful though. At least they let him stay despite him being "the cursed child". Others are not so willing.
One of Saint's chores is getting water for the house and for the animals from the nearby stream at the designated day for collecting water. Usually, he wakes up before anyone else in the household, when it is dark out. But today, dawn is already breaking when he opens his eyes. Normally, it would be a beautiful sight - the rising sun creating a display of colors in the sky. But today, Saint has no time to appreciate the marvel of nature. He has to hurry because during this drought, water is precious and he is not the only one collecting from the stream for sure.
Grabbing a big, empty bucket, Saint hurries on the beaten path towards the stream. On his way, he passes by the men guarding the stream. They make sure no one is bringing back more than their share by regulating who comes and goes and what container they're holding. This is because the stream that was once deep and huge is fast becoming no more than a puddle as the years go by.
Saint nods to the guards who wave their hands in permission upon seeing his bucket, the same one he brings everytime. Saint sighs in dismay when he sees from a far that there are already some boys at the stream, filling up their own containers with water. Saint holds the bucket more firmly. He can't go home empty-handed.
"Oh if it isn't the cursed child," one of the boys who looks to be no older than 13 mocks Saint.
It hurts hearing that from someone who is clearly younger than him, treating him without an ounce of respect. But Saint ignores the boy, instead squatting down next to the stream to start filling up his bucket with water. The sooner he can get water, the sooner he can leave.
Unfortunately, as Saint rolls up his sleeves, the boy once again opens his mouth to hurl insults.
"Look at those white arms! He is as fair as my Ma," the boy looks to the others there, clearly seeking their approval. When the older boys snicker and laugh, the younger is encouraged to speak more. He turns back to Saint. "Are you sure you're a man, white rat?"
His remark is met with silence from Saint. Every time, it's the same insults. They make fun of his fair skin, his softer facial features that he inherited from his mother and the fact that unlike the other men of his village, he has so little hair on his body except on his head.
Saint is used to those remarks so it doesn't bother him. What bothers him though is when their bullying prevents him from doing his job. Today it is in the form of the boy who is mocking him kicking the bucket out of Saint's hands.
Luckily, there is no water yet in it or it would have been such a waste. Saint stands up and reaches for the bucket. But as he does so, two of the older boys push Saint in the shallow stream.
A shrill yell from a girl running towards them makes the boys turn. "You idiots! Leave him alone!"
Tasanee, the 16 year old daughter of the village head, halts in front of the boys, frowning.
"Tass, we were just teasing," the younger boy who was messing with Saint earlier tries to placate the irate girl.
"Then tease him somewhere else. His clothes are soaking up all the water," Tasanee says. "And it's 'Tasanee'. Don't call me 'Tass', I'm not your friend."
The larger boy in the group hauls Saint away from the stream. "He can just wring his clothes into his bucket. Call it his water ration for the day."
"No, that's not enough water!" Saint protests, alarmed.
"It's well into the morning now, time is wasting. Why don't you boys go back to the village and I'll deal with him myself?" Tasanee offers.
"Ooh Tassanee, do you fancy this white rat? What would your father say?" An older boy taunts.
Another boy smacks his head. "Idiot. Tasanee will be offered to the Water God, don't you know that? Why would she like a cursed child?"
Figuring their own parents would be furious if they delayed any longer, the boys leave. Tasanee and Saint are now alone.
"You really should go here earlier to avoid them," Tasanee says to Saint, her demeanor friendlier now that there are no spectators.
"I know. I woke up late. I had the strangest dream about soaking in a tub filled with the clearest water I have ever seen."
Tasanee giggles. "I wouldn't want to wake up too." She looks at his clothes. "Well you got the soaked part right. You better hurry up and wring those clothes. People will be mad at you if you go back looking like that. They'll say you're wasting precious water."
"Yes, you're right." Saint silently wrings his clothes and then finally collects water into his bucket. "Why are you here anyway? Your family gets your water rations delivered to your house."
Tasanee shrugs. "I was looking for you because I wanted to ask if you have time to look at my dress for the festival but then I heard your aunt yelling about how you haven't done your chores. I figured you'd be here."
"You have your dress already?" Saint asks, smiling. He is excited for Tasanee.
"Of course, silly. The festival is tonight. Have you not noticed the decorations up at the town?"
Saint shook his head. "I haven't gone yet. You know there are lots to do at the barn. But I will go later. I want to see you win the ritual this year."
"Oh I don't know. It is my first year as one of the maiden offerings because I just recently turned sixteen...I think maybe the previous maiden will be chosen," Tasanee says demurely.
At the festival, one would have to be at least sixteen to even be considered as one of the maidens offered to the Water God.
"I'm sure you'd win the ritual this year and be blessed by the Water God. Everyone knows you're the most beautiful maiden among all of the candidates."
Flattered, Tasanee tells Saint she'll wait for him at the festival. They both come back to the village - Saint carefully holding his bucket full of water and Tasanee skipping alongside him and then detouring to her house.
Saint smiles after her. Tasanee is such a nice girl, befriending Saint when all the people of their village shuns him. His musing is cut short when his Aunt sees him and yells at him to go to work.
Later that day, Saint makes sure he is done with his chores early and then ponders what to wear. He only has a handful of clothes but he doesn't want to embarass Tasanee for his appearance so he uses what little water he has to wash his face and body thoroughly before changing into clothes that are at least clean and has no holes or stains on them. He ties up his hair and then proceeds to the towncenter.
The sun has already set and bright torches are being lit when Saint arrives at the town. He spots Tasanee sitting among other candidates up at the makeshift stage at the center of the festivities. He makes his way through the hoards of people. It seems like for this one night, everyone, rich or poor, is out to celebrate the Water God. It is ironic given the circumstances. But of course Saint is not about to say that out loud. He doesn't want any more trouble.
But trouble does find him. As soon as he weaves through the crowd, women began noticing him. They are annoyed that this man looks absolutely attractive even in shabby clothes. His hair is jet black and silky, his fair skin almost glowing and his face easily the most beautiful one in the crowd. The women throw him displeased looks as he passes by them. Saint himself does not notice the animosity until one woman bumps into him and accuses him of bumping into her.
"Your dirty clothes touched my dress!" She exclaims.
Saint tries to explain and apologize but upon seeing that they are drawing attention, the girl suddenly cries, playing the victim.
"Is this cursed child bothering you?" A rough looking older man intervenes. "Go home child, you don't belong here."
"Where were you going anyway? To the stage?" A random person asks.
At the stage, the ceremony is starting, one of the elders speaking about the significance of the ritual and how it is the elders' responsibility to choose one of the maiden according to the Water God's will. The new candidates look visibly excited. After all, there are a lot of benefits for the chosen maiden and her family. For that whole year, the girl and her family is revered and respected. It is said that to anger them is to anger the Gods.
The former maiden has her head held high. She has had her position for 3 years and she believes she will win again. Tasanee on the other hand, demurely sits, waiting.
Down at the crowds, the gathering around Saint is small enough not to cause disturbance to the ceremony but is substantial enough for Saint to feel uncomfortable.
"Are your eyes bad? Why do you have to go near?" The rough looking man asks.
"Ooh I heard he seduced one of the farm boys when he was younger. It was quite a scandal. Perhaps he fancies himself one of the maidens. You're not a girl, cursed child and even if you are, the Gods only accepts virgins." The man's friend leers at Saint.
Murmurs erupt at the audience the display gathered. Saint bit his lips and looks down.
'I didn't seduce him! He touched me inappropriately and tried to take me to bed!'
But of course no one will believe him. Just like no one believed him that day he was a child running away from that man, disheveled and bruised from fighting back, believing someone will side with him, protect him.
No one did. Instead he was met with ridicule and blame.
"Why don't we take him to the stage then, it'll be a dream come true for him," a voice shouts from the crowd.
They laugh, finding the idea hilarious. They drag Saint up the stairs to the stage despite his protests. The elders gave disapproving looks at the commotion but for the most part let it play out. Saint looks at Tasanee pleadingly. Perhaps if she says a word, this ridicule will stop.
"Tass-" Saint starts to say but one of the men backhands him.
Tasanee's eyes widens as she recognized her friend. But she keeps still, terrified of making a mistake at her important day.
Saint tries to pull away from the men holding him and he breaks free but the momentum pushes him down on the floor of the stage, twisting his ankle as he falls. He whimpers in pain but tries to stand up.
The elder on the stage steps forward to shoo the man intruding the ceremony. But before he could, a golden light shoots down from the sky towards the stage.
The people backs away in panic. Saint tries to back away too but his injured ankle makes him slow. He could only watch in horror as the golden light comes crashing straight to him. He closes his eyes, awaiting his death.
And then the strangest thing happens. The light stops. In its place is a golden orb. It taps Saint gently on his forehead, hovers and then settles itself on Saint's shoulder. Then a bright golden light envelops Saint for a moment and then disappears. The orb remains perched on him.
Everyone is stunned silent. And then all at once, noise erupts from the crowd, people talking over each other, each baffled by what happened.
"It...it can't be..." The elder says.
"And one shall be the Water God's chosen, protected by his holy light," the former chosen maiden recites the prophesy in monotone, still in shock. Every year, one of the elders utters those words just before they choose the maiden for that year's festival.
Saint looks at her, confused.
"No, it must be a hoax, a trick!" The elder tries to take away the gold orb from Saint but the orb spins and hisses like an angry cat and then nestles closer to Saint's neck.
Saint touches the orb and holds it. The orb goes willingly.
'What are you?'
Then the orb bounces out of Saint's hand.
"Oh maybe he's not the the one after all," one of the elders say in relief. "Quick maidens, line up!"
But the orb only zooms past them and is caught by the hand of the man who materialized in front of everyone.
Or more acurately, a God.
For Perth, the Water God himself, is in front of all the humans, floating on air, his blue and white layers of robes remaining dry despite the tendrils of water swirling around him.
"The water God...It is the water God!" One of the elders says. "Oh Divine One!" He kneels down, followed suit by the other people.
Perth couldn't care less, busy frowning at his traitor of a magical item. "Show me then."
The orb floats back to Saint who is struggling to kneel.
"I don't like you kneeling," Perth says.
The elders inch closer to Saint. "Forgive us Oh Divine One, we shall remove him from your presence-"
"Silence." Perth doesn't even have to shout and the elders back away immediately. That's how intimidating he is.
"Divine One..." Saint utters, still not understanding what's happening.
Perth sighs and then glares at someone invisible to everyone else. "My word is a promise, Aisha, I know." He turns to Saint. And to the surprise of everyone, kneels right in front of Saint.
"Oh no-"
Saint is interrupted by Perth taking his hand. "We are to be equals. You shall not treat me like a God for you will be immortal yourself. You, chosen one, will marry me and come with me to my realm."
Saint can only gape at the Water God in shock.