"All the love in the world is worthless if it doesn't include yours. Even the love of a billion pales compared to just a fragment of your affection."
As I sat in the caravan while traveling toward the Runa district, these thoughts wandered through my mind.
"We'll be reaching the Kingdom of Ruins in an hour. Be ready, Vaira," Tarun mentioned.
"Don't worry, I am," I replied assuring him as I gazed out the window.
"It's been a long time since we last saw each other, home," I mentioned as I came near the end of the battle that started with my birth.
It is a chapter that must end,and it must end soon.
Ten Years Earlier, 10th Eunj, 471 DA
It all began in a small village in Lana district, where I took my first breath. Lana was a peaceful village with no more than 300 residents and a local church that took in orphans like me. The days I lived back there were short yet felt like an eternity.
"Vai… Vai… VAI!!!!!" Roxy's voice pierced through my slumber. She was calling me from under the Tree of the Dead.
"Napping under the Tree of the Dead? You don't fear curses, do you?" She continued.
"Not as much as I fear you," I said with a smirk, opening one eye.
"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Roxy asked, clearly unimpressed. "Because jokes are supposed to be funny."
"Reality is often not funny, sis," I whispered as I stretched and woke up.
"Did you say something?" she asked, to which I replied with a poker face, "No."
"Is there a screw loose in your brain, have you forgotten how many times have Sister Anna refused us to go near that tree, yet you go there." She said to me with a look that didn't seem pleasing.
I sighed and got up, brushing off the dust from my clothes. "You worry too much, Roxy. Besides, it's not like the tree's cursed or anything. It's just... history," I muttered, gazing at the dark, twisted branches looming overhead.
Roxy crossed her arms, glaring at me as if I'd committed some terrible sin. "It's not the tree itself, Vai. It's what it represents."
I knew what she meant. The Tree of the Dead was infamous in our village. People claim that the souls of the fallen linger here, tied to the roots like a prison, but I doubt it. Sister Anna often warned us to stay away, calling it a beacon of misfortune, but for some reason, I feel oddly drawn to it.
"It's just a tree," I insisted again, though I could tell by her expression she wasn't convinced. "Look, let's just go back before Sister Anna finds out, alright? I don't want another lecture."
"Too late for that," Roxy said, her gaze shifting over my shoulder.
I turned to find Sister Anna standing at a distance, her arms folded, her eyes fixed on us with that look of disappointment that could make anyone squirm. She had caught us. Again.
"Vaira. Roxy," she called out in her stern, measured tone. "I thought I told you two to stay away from this place."
Roxy immediately dipped her head in guilt, but I stood my ground, even though my heart was pounding in my chest. "It's just a tree, Sister. I wasn't doing anything."
Sister Anna walked toward us, her steps slow but deliberate. Her eyes were soft yet held a quiet intensity that made it hard to look her in the eye.
"It's never just a tree, Vaira," she said, her voice calm but firm. "There's history here, a kind of history that isn't just stories. You might think you're not doing anything, but this place... it remembers."
Roxy fidgeted beside me, looking anywhere but at Sister Anna. I, however, couldn't help but challenge her words. "History or not, I don't believe in curses or haunted trees. There's no logic to that."
Sister Anna sighed deeply as if she had heard this same argument a thousand times. "Logic won't shield you from what defies sight." Her eyes bore into mine for a long moment before she finally turned, gesturing for us to follow her back. "Come. It's time to return."
As we walked back toward the village, the weight of her words lingered in the air. I could feel Roxy's gaze on me, a mixture of worry and frustration. I knew she believed every word Sister Anna said, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to all of this. Something that even Sister Anna didn't fully understand.
Once we reached the church, Sister Anna stopped us at the entrance. "You both need to be more careful," she warned, her voice gentler now. "There are things in this world that we may never fully comprehend. But that doesn't make them any less real, for now, both of you return to the church. "
Roxy nodded obediently, but I remained quiet, staring at the old wooden doors of the church.
"I don't know... but I feel a strange connection to it," I whispered as I stepped into the church. And there they were—those stares. The very ones I hated. Stares of disgust.
"So, he finally came back."
"That boy doesn't know how to stay away, does he?"
I was used to the whispers by now. Roxy wanted to confront them, but I stopped her just in time.
"I-I am sorry, Vai," Roxy stated,
It's not like it's her fault it's just that everyone hates me, but yay it sure does make me upset.
I nodded looking at Roxy as I left for my room, walking upstairs among those deadly stares.
As I climbed the stairs, their voices faded behind me, but the weight of their stares lingered. Each step felt heavier than the last, the creaking wood beneath my feet matching the tension in my chest. I didn't have to turn around to know that the whispers hadn't stopped. They never did.
At the top of the stairs, I paused for a moment, letting out a slow breath before pushing open the door to my small room. It wasn't much—just a simple bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the village—but it was my sanctuary. It was the only place where I didn't feel like an outsider.
As soon as the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My mind wandered back to the Tree of the Dead, to Sister Anna's warnings, and to the unspoken weight I carried. "There are things in this world that we may never fully comprehend," she had said. But what did that even mean? Why was I so drawn to that tree, to the very thing everyone else feared? Why does looking at it make me feel… free?
The walls close in on me, suffocating with every second. These stones, this place—they're not my home. They're a cage, meant to stifle the life out of me. I can feel it, the weight of the air pressing against my skin, trying to crush my soul. Each day I stay here, I feel more like a prisoner in my own body.
Inside these walls, I am nothing.
"You're no eagle, little one, but a sparrow," Mother Lilia's voice slithers into the room like a venomous snake. "Small. Insignificant. Born from filth, destined for the gutter."
Her words are knives, sharp and deliberate, meant to carve away any hope I might still cling to. I've heard it before, the whispered rumors, the hateful stares. But it's different when she says it. She's not trying to hurt me—no, that would require care. She says it because it's the truth in her eyes, and the truth is far more crushing.
"You weren't made for grandeur," she continues, her gaze narrowing to slits. "The church gave you shelter—a charity for a boy whose very blood is stained by the death of his kin. A curse. A walking misfortune."
I feel the mana surge in the air as she raises her hand, sealing the door with a flick of her wrist. The air crackles with energy, locking me inside—a prison within a prison. My room, the only place where I thought I had some semblance of peace, is now nothing more than another shackle.
"You should be grateful for what little you have," she says with an icy smirk. "After all, who else would shelter a monster in human skin?"
As the door hums with the energy of the mana lock, I laugh bitterly, a sound that barely escapes my throat. "And they think Cinderella had it bad," I mutter. But there's no humor in it. I'm locked away, not for the first time. It's a familiar routine—a punishment that stretches over the years like a shadow. They expect this to break me, but the truth is, I'm already broken. The cracks just haven't fully shattered yet.
OUTSIDE THE ROOM
"You've locked him up again, haven't you?" Anna's voice cut through the silence, cool and sharp.
Lilia didn't turn. "Naturally." Her tone was sweet, almost mocking. "I wouldn't want my precious children to wander in the dark, especially not near that tree. Would I? "
Anna's gaze darkened. "Naturally huh, I don't think so?"
Lilia's eyes flickered. "You doubt me, my child? Well, that hurts my heart you know"
Anna stepped closer, her fists clenched. "He's not your tool, Mother. You won't use him like one."
Lilia's lips curled into a twisted smile as she turned, a candle flickering in her hand. "Tool? No, Anna. I'm simply giving him the same life as any other orphan. The same freedom. "
She paused, her smile stretching wider, crueler. "There's no way I would think of my child as a tool." She whispered
As Anna glared, waiting.
Lilia's voice dropped to a whisper, the flame in her hand dancing in her cold eyes.Her voice echoed in the low, haunting corridor as the candlelight flickered and faded.