The air was thick with tension as the boy overheard the villagers angrily accusing him of bringing calamity upon them. Their voices rose and fell in a cacophony of blame and fear. "It's all his fault! That boy has brought this to us!" they shouted, their words laced with venom.
Fearing for his life, the boy decided to seek refuge far from the village under a hollow rock. As he carefully made his way through the dense foliage, the sounds of the forest surrounded him - the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the occasional snap of a twig under Reaching the secluded spot, he curled up, his heart pounding, as he tried to find solace in the darkness of the rock's shelter.
Throughout the night, the village was disturbed the wailing of women, the frantic shouts of men, and the ominous tolling of a bell. Desperate for solution, the villagers consulted the prophecy old woman, whose voice rang out, solemn and foreboding: "Until the Orixas find the boy, he will come knocking on your doors every night." The villagers' faces paled with fear, and a collective shudder ran through the crowd.
"Everyone in this village will die!" they cried, their voices tinged with panic. The villagers huddled together, frantically discussing what to do. Suddenly, a man burst into the gathering, a knife glinting in his hand. "We must kill that boy!" he shouted, his words echoing through the stunned silence. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, a chorus of agreement rising up as they rushed out, determined to hunt down the boy.
The boy, searching for food, caught sight of the approaching mob, their shouts carrying on the wind. "Damn it! Where is he hiding? Where is that rat? We should have killed him ages ago!" they roared, their voices laced with hatred. Terrified, the boy took off running, his footsteps pounding against the earth as he fled for his life.
The pursuit led them to the edge of an icy lake, the surface cracking and groaning under the weight of the running crowd. Suddenly, the boy's foot broke through the ice, and he tumbled into the frigid water, disappearing beneath the surface as the villagers watched in horror, their cries of vengeance turning to shrieks of dismay.
The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore filled the air as the villagers gathered, their faces etched with worry. They had thought the young boy had drowned, his fate sealed by the treacherous waters.
Suddenly, a lady in a black dress emerged, with a sharp intake of breath. She waded into the shallow depths to save the young boy.
A faint groan escaped the young man's lips as the lady gently pulled him from the water, his clothes soaked and clinging to his body. Quickly, she guided him to a nearby hollow rock, the damp interior providing shelter from the elements. Swiftly, she set about tending to him, her nimble fingers kindling a small fire to provide warmth.
As the young boy's eyes fluttered open, he caught sight of a familiar item – his father's weathered hat and battered luggage resting beside him. A surge of relief and joy washed over him, and he struggled to his feet, his legs still weak from his ordeal.
The young boy rushed outside and saw the lady in black watch him, her expression a mix of sorrow and concern. Suddenly, the sound of pounding footsteps echoed through the valley as the villagers, having spotted the young man, charged towards him, their faces contorted with anger.
The young boy, still unsteady, tried to flee, but his leg slipped, and he tumbled down the mountain, rolling painfully towards the roadside. The villagers pounced, grabbing him and dragging him to the edge of the path.
One of the villagers, his eyes wild, pulled out a dagger, the blade glinting in the fading sunlight. "We must protect our family from Orexis!" he cried, his voice laced with desperation. "You must die so that we may live!"
The others took up the chant, their shouts echoing through the valley. The lady in black watched, her face stricken. As the dagger was raised, ready to plunge into the young boy's heart, the lady swiftly hugged the boy and took the dagger instead of him . With a sharply drawn breath, she collapsed to the ground, the dagger still clutched in her heart.
The boy's cries of "No!" pierced the tense silence, a guttural growl of pain escaping his lips. The villagers were taken aback, for they had always thought the boy to be dumb and mute since birth, never having uttered a word before.
Mustering his remaining strength, the boy rose to his feet, with a sturdy branch clutched tightly in his hand. He stood in a defensive stance, his eyes wild and determined as the villagers closed in around him, their weapons drawn.
Just as they were about to strike, the sound of hooves echoed through the valley. A man on a horse had arrived, his regal bearing commanding the attention of all present.
"Mind your own business and just go!" the man bellowed, his voice brooking no argument. "We are taking care of our own matter, so just go."
One of the man's bodyguards stepped forward, declaring, "You are speaking to the Head General of Cascos. Show him your respect!"
At these words, the villagers hastily bowed, their previous aggression replaced by deference. He asked them what could have happened for wanting to kill such a young boy.
From the edge of the gathering, an old woman emerged, her wrinkled face etched with a haunted expression. "It is because he has been cursed by Orixas," she prophesied, as her voice quavering.
The villagers turned to her, their eyes widening as she continued, "Orixas has a grudge against him, and it has come down to our village and harmed our villagers in search of him. Even his own father abandoned him out of fear, but we took him in. So this is our burden to carry. Please turn a blind eye to it."
The General listened, his brow furrowed in contemplation. After a moment, the general couldn't believe they could plan to kill a young boy because of a monster. It sounds nonsensical to him. He wanted to behead them all at that instance but pardoned them because he had seen blood already from the battlefield they were coming from.
The boy, his heart racing, as he crawled towards the General. He knew that his fate was now in the hands of the General, and he could only hope that the old woman's words would sway away for the General to spare his life from the angry villagers.
The General's horse echoed through as he approached the boy. Reaching out a gloved hand, he fixed the young boy with a piercing gaze.
"What is your name, child?" the General asked, his deep voice rumbling.
The boy hesitated, his eyes downcast. "I... I don't have a name," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
The General's faint a smile played across his lips. "Then from this day forth, I shall call you Liam - means rebirth.
.
.
.