Everyone claims the sky is blue, but they're wrong. Lauren Esmond knows better. For her, the sky is red—a reflection of the pain that has marked her life.

At seventeen, Lauren stands out like no other. Her woolly white hair, deep chocolate skin, and piercing emerald eyes flecked with gold give her an otherworldly beauty that leaves onlookers uncertain—are they captivated by her, or unsettled? She is the only one of her kind, a mystery in a kingdom that clings to uniformity.

But for Lauren, beauty is not a blessing. Each day brings torment. The village of Moshi, steeped in its rigid traditions, sees her as an abomination. Her life is filled with the sting of the whip, the brutal orders from the slave master, and the cruel laughter of her peers. To Lauren, the sky has never been blue; it has always been red, reflecting the blood, pain, and fear that cloud her vision.

Her origins are as puzzling as her appearance. Seventeen years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Esmond returned from the depths of the forest, cradling a swaddled baby. The couple had been childless for twenty-five years, and their sudden return with an infant sparked rumors and suspicion. Some whispered that the child was a divine gift, while others feared she was a harbinger of misfortune.

Moshi village is known for its deep-rooted traditions. Nestled in the hills of the Kingdom of Aslan, it thrives on its crops and the steadfast loyalty of its people to long-standing customs. Pale skin, dark hair, and brown eyes are the standard of beauty, and anything different is met with skepticism, even hostility. Outsiders are rarely welcomed. And Lauren, with her striking differences, is no exception.

The morning after the Esmonds returned with the baby, a cry echoed through the village. Adeni, a widow who lived near the village's edge, was the first to hear it. Intrigued, she approached the Esmonds' hut, curiosity gnawing at her. What she saw left her speechless—a baby with skin the color of rich soil, hair as white as snow, and eyes like gems.

She rushed to tell the village head, Zoni. News of the strange child spread quickly, igniting both wonder and fear among the villagers. Soon, a crowd gathered outside the Esmonds' home, whispering in hushed tones about what they had heard. Some were eager to catch a glimpse of the mysterious baby, while others were there out of concern.

"Bring the baby," Zoni commanded. He was a man of sixty-eight, wise and cautious, with a deep understanding of the village's ways. He knew that such an event could disrupt the delicate balance of their tightly-knit community.

As the crowd grew, so did the tension. Amara, a young woman of twenty, stood at the heart of the gathering, her eyes filled with disdain. "This child is a curse," she spat. "Why should we keep her here? She'll bring nothing but ruin to Moshi."

Her words found agreement in Vani, a close friend, who nodded grimly. "It's true. This baby doesn't belong here. We should send her back to the forest—where she came from—before things get worse."

But not everyone shared their fear. Mrs. Belani, a kind-hearted seamstress known for her skill, gazed at the child with a mix of awe and hope. "Look at her," she whispered. "She's beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen before. Perhaps she's a blessing, a gift meant to bring prosperity to our village."

The crowd was divided—some driven by fear, others by wonder. And at the center of it all was Zoni, caught between tradition and uncertainty. He knew the village had survived for generations by following its customs, but this child presented a new challenge, one that could not be easily dismissed.

Standing at the edge of the gathering, Mr. Esmond held the baby tightly. His wife stood beside him, pale and anxious. They had always known that bringing the child home would raise questions, but they had hoped that love might win over suspicion. Now, faced with the harsh stares of their fellow villagers, they felt more isolated than ever.

As Zoni prepared to address the crowd, a hush fell over the gathering. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of uncertainty. "This child is unlike any we have seen," he began, his gaze sweeping over the villagers. "We do not know where she came from, nor do we know what she brings with her. But I urge you to consider carefully what we decide today. Our actions will shape the future of Moshi."

The tension in the air was palpable. The villagers shifted uneasily, torn between their fear of the unknown and the possibility that this child could be something more than just an anomaly.

In the silence that followed, Mr. Esmond finally spoke, his voice trembling but firm. "We found her in the forest," he said. "We don't know how she came to be there, but the moment we saw her, we knew she was meant for us. We believe she is no threat, but rather a part of our family."

Zoni's brow furrowed as he considered the words. He had seen enough in his years to know that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. The child could be a blessing—or a curse. Only time would tell.

Amara was not convinced. She stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "This is madness. We can't risk the safety of the village for the sake of one child. She doesn't belong here, and you know it!"

Mrs. Belani, though, was resolute in her belief. "We cannot be so quick to judge," she said softly. "Perhaps this child is here to teach us something, to bring us closer to a future we cannot yet see."

Zoni raised a hand, silencing the growing debate. "Enough," he said firmly. "We will not act rashly. The child will stay, for now. But we will watch her closely. If she proves to be a threat, we will act accordingly."

The decision hung in the air, met with both relief and apprehension. The villagers began to disperse, their whispers lingering long after the crowd had thinned.

Lauren, though only a baby then, had been marked by this moment. From that day forward, she would always be the girl who did not belong—the girl who represented everything Moshi feared. As she grew, the whispers followed her. She was watched, scrutinized, and judged, not for what she had done, but for what she might become.

But Lauren would not be broken. Beneath her soft, woolly hair and striking emerald eyes, there was a fire that had yet to be kindled. She didn't know it yet, but her journey was only just beginning.