Ystal wished he was a lucky child, being the youngest of five siblings. Yet, although large families were a blessing in those parts, he was frowned upon.
The first thing everyone noticed was his build: slender and graceful, totally opposite to the massive and sturdy one of any other inhabitant. Subsequently, the people focused on his hair - a dark brown, as of burnt wood - and finally on his complexion, almost pale when compared with that of others.
His neighbors, in particular, never spared insulting him. They took a sadistic pleasure in playing tricks on him, which often ended with the tears of the victim.
Precisely because of his constitution and character, his father refused to take him hunting with him, leaving him in the care of his mother and sisters. He had therefore learned to cook and sew rather than fight and split wood. This put him at a greater disadvantage during the Purge: the thought of being helpless in the face of such violence terrified him, and often this caused trouble for his family. The soldiers had never appreciated tears, and they were as good as hounds at sniffing the smell of fear.
He remembered perfectly the first time he had felt that feeling of endless terror: he was only four years old when it happened, yet the memory was as vivid and vivid as a burning flame on a starless evening.
As per tradition, the King's soldiers had come to the village to "recruit" young men and young girls; at the time, Ystal was unaware of the inauspicious and painful fate of both sides, and merely observed the harrowing scenes hidden behind his mother's skirt.
That year, however, his older sister turned fifteen and - as an adult - would be part of the selection.
The new men and women had been made to line up in front of their home, showing themselves as pieces of precious silverware to be sold on the market.
A soldier - fat and balding - had turned in their direction, and had taken steps in the direction of the girl. He had scrutinized her for a long time, in silence, as if he wished to devour her soul.
Ystal had seen tears on his sister's face, but he didn't understand why; at the time he was still convinced that being chosen was a privilege, not a condemnation.
"Sister, why are you crying?" he had therefore asked, tilting his head a little, stammering slightly.
The man, at that point, had turned towards him, with a movement of annoyance clearly visible in his eyes.
"How dare you say a word in front of a soldier of the King?"
He screamed, making the baby wince. His tone of voice, high and deep, made many heads turn in their direction.
Ystal had tried to stammer a response, gripping his mother's robe tightly, trembling.
"Ah, you don't talk anymore, now?" The man - rejecting his fear - had taken a step in his direction, eager to pull off a sharp blow, for the simple sake of hurting someone weaker. Seeing that gesture, however, his sister got in the way, taking one, two, three punches.
Nobody, at that moment, had moved. Neither the father, nor the brothers, nor even the fellow villagers.
His sister had been taken away, dragged by her hair, her face red and streaked with tears. On her lips, frozen with pain, the prayer to leave her brother alone.
That same evening, after the Purge, his father had taken him aside and, after having reserved the blows that had previously been assigned to his sister, had sent him to bed without dinner.
That night, Ystal hadn't been able to sleep, haunted by his sister's frightened gaze and the soldier's angry look.
From that day on, for the next few years, he had stopped attending the Purge. The firstborn son had been taken away two years later when he was six. The remaining brothers, however, had found the same fate during the subsequent Purges, leaving him totally alone at the age of nine.
No one had ever returned, and he had never heard of anyone since. They had simply disappeared, as if they had never existed.
Ystal wondered if this was the case for every village, but he couldn't find an answer. The outsiders did not have the right to education, as was the case with the young people of the capital. It was one of the few things he knew about the outside world, but it wasn't quite clear to him how he knew that truth.
"One day they will come for me too."