Among the elves, the symbol wasn't viewed as a curse, but it set him and other Shafatenians apart from the rest. Each sigil represented a different faction: the red sigil, also known as the red crest, signified a Shafatenian; the blue belonged to the Stoet; and the yellow marked the Rachom. However, to the three factions, bearing such a sigil could sometimes be seen as a curse, depending on its color and the perspective of each faction.
As Adinim made his way through the treacherous alleyways of Hassa Curie, countless eyes followed him. Ignoring the stares, he pressed on, clutching a stolen loaf of bread tightly in his hands. Without it, he probably would have starved to death.
Most of the stares were directed at the boy beside him—an ebony-skinned child with coarse hair styled in short dreadlocks, each strand appearing more ragged than the last. What could be worse than bearing the cursed red Shafatenian crest? Perhaps having no crest at all. The boy's fate was even more tragic—he was of mixed race, and his mother had died giving birth to him.
Despised and outcast, the Shafatenians were trapped in a cycle of violence for survival, where only the strongest and most ruthless made it to Hassa Curie. Resources were scarce, yet despite these circumstances, Adinim clung to a dream—a dream of one day getting his retribution.
As he thought about how he would exact that retribution, a gust of wind brushed against his and Muzayaf Huia's faces, their hair yielding to its direction. The wind carried with it an eerie laughter, a haunting echo from Adinim's past, pulling him into a flood of memories from ten years ago. A younger, happier Adinim had once played in the vibrant fields of Alfheim with his sister. Their joyful, innocent laughter now felt like a far-off memory. Those were incredible days that Adinim never realized could be so great because those were every day for him.
His mind turned to how his parents in particular now saw him differently. He could still recall the expression on their faces. The bright red sigil had brought searing pain both emotionally and physically. It was an indelible stain that marked him as filthy and unworthy wherever he went, as if fate were so cruel it marked him on the face, leaving no way to hide it. The admiration his community once had for him turned to fear, and then lost camaraderie gave way to isolation. This usually happens over a period of time, but for Adinim and his situation, it all hit him at once.
Muzayaf Huia gently tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Adinim," he said quietly.
"We are here."
Adinim snapped back from his daydreaming—his nightmare of the past. They were now standing in front of the place that was familiar to Huia and Adinim, where they usually came to practice fighting and hatch schemes with the crazy lunatic, Maadhela Akhaqia.
The building looked rugged and worn down. Its façade was full of cracks and patchwork, and vines crept up its side, blending nature with the decaying structure. The wooden frames of the windows were shattered and old, and the shiny gleaming that comes with new windows was no longer there. Instead, in their place was dry wood that looked as though any minor infraction would cause it to fall apart. The glass was blackened with dust and grime, and some of the panes even had cracks. In the middle stood the door, rusted metal fixtures clinging together. It hung slightly ajar, groaning under the strain of its weight. Inside this rugged structure, which had withstood countless storms, was Maadhela Akhaqia.
Maadhela Akhaqia
"Where the hell are Adinim and Huia?" Akhaqia muttered. "What's taking them so long? We have a huge mission planning session tonight, and I need all the help I can get. Something big is coming up."
Before he could continue his rant, Akhaqia spotted Adinim and Huia through the window. "Oh, finally," he muttered, making his way to the front of the building.
"You guys are late!" he called out, his voice sharp.
"I'm always late," Adinim replied dryly, while Huia stayed silent, playing with his two pointy fingers.
"Are you guys even taking this seriously?" Akhaqia demanded.
Adinim, visibly frustrated, snapped back. "You know better than anyone how seriously I take this. If I don't do this, I don't eat," he said.
Not wanting to waste time on pointless debate and frustrated by their tardiness, Akhaqia led them inside. The interior of the house was a stark contrast to the outside. It was well-maintained, clean, and organized, as if the exterior's shabbiness was meant to ward off suspicion of anything suspicious happening inside.
As they moved through the house, they passed Akhaqia's little sister, Lily—a young girl no older than twelve with dark black hair and huge innocent eyes. She was sitting in the other room playing with toys. Upon seeing them, Adinim and Huia waved at her, and she responded, "Hi, Denim! Hi, Huia! Can I come to play with you guys?"
Denim, of course, responded, "Maybe later, Lily."
Defeated, she replied, "Okay."
The three of them—Adinim, Huia, and Akhaqia—entered a room with a table that appeared to have been cobbled together from three pieces of furniture, none of which had been fully assembled.
Once inside, Akhaqia took a seat and announced, "Today, we have something big."
Adinim and Huia exchanged knowing glances. This wasn't their first meeting or thievery exploit. In fact, Adinim, Huia, and Akhaqia had a long history of thievery, and whenever Akhaqia started with "something big," it was never a good sign.
"We used to steal from less dangerous places," Akhaqia continued, "but today, we need to up the stakes. There's a bit more risk involved."
Muzayaf Huia
Muzayaf Huia's voice wavered in disbelief. "You mean this? You want to assault the Alfheim Empire's supply chain?"
Adinim's expression hardened as he replied firmly, "Yes." He looked at Huia with a determined gaze.
"Are you afraid of getting on Motae Years' bad side?
Forget about the Empire and any consequences the country might face. I'm fully committed, Adinim said, because he wanted to stick it to the empire because he blamed them for their hard lives.
Adinim's clenched hands and resolute posture suggested a certain satisfaction, and a slight smile crept onto his face.
Huia sighed in resignation, recognizing that there was nothing he could say to dissuade Adinim and Akhaqia from launching their attack on the Alfheim supply lines.