He was born without a homeland, without a home. One day he randomly appeared — the chief of the village opened the door and saw him still on the green grass of the garden, as if someone had left him there. He was a newborn at the time, not any different from anyone in the village. Yet it was obvious that he wasn’t from there.

He would never have been. The village of Whitefield was not his home, no place really was.

When he grew up, it became increasingly easy to see just how radically different he was from anyone who lived under the same Sun. Not only had he not been born in the village — proof of it was his dark green hair, which nobody there had seen so far, or his light blue eyes, or his cold but adorable look — even if he was the adopted son of the chief, but he was not any similar in the thoughts either.

He was not suitable for fighting, for fishing, for cultivating. He wasn’t bad at all at studying and he had a great intellect, but the village itself had no schools. Simply, the elders passed their experience to the youth, while their mothers taught them to live: there was no other education.

So, the boy was called Aiya by his father, which in the village’s dialect meant ‘frail’. He was, in fact, like a glass statue to the chief: weak and frail, but precious.

Aiya chose the only way in which he could be useful: magic. It consists in handling mana, an invisible substance which exists in all things, using it for spells by making it visible.

It was not at all rare for mages to be found even in the most uninhabited places in the world, because many were able to use this common art. It was useful for many things: for war and to make life better, for birth and for death alike. Still, very few were real mages, who created their own spells and used powerful magic. Most just copied the countless elementary books that could be found.

«Aiya, if you’ll have a future it’ll be thanks to this.» often told him Nelman Hadesville, the chief of the village and his adoptive father. «You’re not strong, you’re not good with weapons. Magic is all you have. I’m glad you can use it.» he always said this.

In this period, at least, the young boy was rather happy. He was isolated from all his peers, often locked in his room to read a book or to exercise in casting his favorite spells. He felt as if he wasn’t that loved by anyone — his brothers were always quite cold, while his own father simply held some sympathy for him but never treated him as a real son — but he also didn’t care that much. After all, he felt as if he was better alone.

Still, one day, while he was out of the village near a lake he loved, trying to create new spells, Aiya was hit by a creative crisis and asked himself if maybe there was, out of the grayish walls of the small and simple village, outside of the people who crowded every day the area near the well to drink the purest water, outside of the humble farms and fields, someone who loved him.

«I don’t think anyone loves me in this world.» He answered to his own question. He was not unhappy as he had no reason to be. «Why would they abandon me if they loved me?»

When the boy, at the age of fifteen, began showing himself in public, the hate towards him became clearer. Whitefield, like the majority of the villages nearby, hated and feared strangers — he was not different from a stranger in many ways.

Once Aiya, along with his own adoptive brothers, Kaimir and Zane Hadesville, and Nelman Hadesville himself, went to hunt some magical and natural beast alike. It was the first time he truly went far from his village; they reached a forest never seen before, melancholic and dark, which hid inside of its shadows many dangers.

«Are you sure you can do it?» Zane asked him with a gentle tone, smiling, as they walked deep inside the mysterious land.

«We only need to find a hog, nothing bigger than that. Let’s avoid fighting anything stronger, since you’re here with us.» added Nelman, looking at Aiya with a familiar look.

«But the three of us can defeat up to three or four wolves...

> Fateor:
» answered Kaimir to the harsh words of his father. He had been the most happy and excited person in the journey towards the forest and he didn’t understand why they had to settle for such a measly prize.

«With no malignity,» said Nelman, mentioning these words before something harsher and more difficult to digest, «do you think Aiya can really defend himself?»

«I mean, I can try.» the boy answered, but it was like he was being purposefully ignored by everyone in the conversation.

«You’re right.» said Zane, looking directly at his much taller father. «Let’s do our best.»

Nelman was an old man but nobody would have ever thought so. Despite his more than sixty years, he still seemed like a very strong warrior, in whom the white hair were mixed with a solid six pack and a body with clear scars made from experience. He had his first son, Zane, at forty years.

Soon after, his wife died. It was an incurable disease and she was the woman he loved for life. That didn’t stop him from being an exemplary father, though, as he grew his children and led his people alone, but was successful at doing both.

Most people in the village believed that he’d have been able to reach even a century of living. He didn’t seem to be any older than ten years prior — such a thing only angered a few people, considering his qualities as a leader.

«Come on! We must not surrender to fatigue, we will soon find a beast.» warned Nelman with a voice of exhortation, as they got closer and closer to the center of the forest.

And at that moment a terrible beast, a solitary wolf, attacked him from the right, hidden to the view by a big tree. He was covered in white fur and a long scar passed through his blind left eye. Zane and Kaimir could have stopped him, being directly behind their father, but their reflexes weren’t good enough.

The wolf bared its dangerous fangs like a knife, then jumped forward with an extreme speed and made his way towards the stomach of the village’s chief with his claws, as he was defended by nobody.

Soon, though, a hit reached it. The sword had passed through its head, blood flew like water from the wound in its head and it fell to the ground, dead, before even reaching Nelman.

The head of the village seemed shocked. His mouth was wide open. He had managed to pierce through the skull of the creature, but the fear of death had shaken him. It wasn’t the first time. Still, he only said one thing that day: «let’s head home.»

He left some words for Zane and Kaimir in the following days. He was upset by their inability to act. For what regarded Aiya, though, he didn’t even consider it. It was as if he thought that the child could never have saved him, nor would have want to.

So, a melancholic and solitary person grew up, but his magic became more and more powerful. He seemed to have a talent that nobody else in the village had and, just like his adoptive father had predicted, this was the only thing that kept him alive.

Until one day his father brought him, during one of the few times they truly were alone, near a cliff at the borders of the village, in one of the least populated places inside of it, but firmly defended by the grayish walls. Nelman brought him down to the ground and made him observe the territory under, which was completely free from human interferences.

There were minerals of any genre, iron, steel, cobalt. Still, nobody had ever mined them. What even are those? — that’s what Aiya was thinking before the chief of the village spoke to him.

«These are precious minerals. Do you know why I didn’t let them be mined?» He asked his son. The young man shook his head.

«They were found while I was in power, almost forty years ago. I refused to let them be mined, despite the fact that they could be sold in the capital to make us all rich.» He explained with a sweet voice. It was the first time such a voice was heard from him, maybe it was the first time he had ever been sweet.

Aiya thought that he had never seen him so weak, maybe except when he had been almost slaughtered by a wolf.

«Why?» He asked, genuinely confused. It seemed like such a Nelman thing from him to have them mined and sold.

«Because my wife loved the shiny sight more than anything else. So, everyday I find myself thinking: what if she’s in the sky, watching us? Then she would never want me to get them removed from here.» He explained.

Then, he kept talking.

«I’m happy about Zane and Kaimir. They’re just like me, just like I was when I was younger. But you’ve never been like me. You were always so different, as if you came from somewhere else.

And I don’t think I ever really understood the person that you are, and maybe that hurts you.» he said. A tear of sorrow fell from his brown eyes.

«I don’t have the resources to send you in a place that you can call home. But these minerals will be able to do just that. After I die, take them. If she’s really in the sky above us, and if I really know her, then she’ll be happy nonetheless. Because I’ll be there. You’ll need them more.»

Aiya, crying and sobbing, closed his beautiful azure eyes and stopped the sad and insecure words of his father with a kiss to the cheek for the first time.

«No, no. Thank you. If she’s watching, and I’m sure of it, I think she would find it embarrassing that the most precious resources this village has are going towards a person that isn’t even part of it.» Nelman tried to say something as a response, but he was cut off.

«Plus, I don’t think there’s a place I’ll be able to call home.» He muttered empathetically.

«You won’t ever know if you don’t try.» The other man answered. If anyone from the village could see that scene, they’d think it was surreal; nobody had seen either of them ever cry.

«Yes, but I’d rather try on my own.» He said. «I don’t want to be bound to anywhere, not even by gratitude. I’ll find my way. I’m a free spirit.»

That day, they cried until the Sun was replaced by the Moon in the night sky.

Just one week later, though, everything changed.

It was dawn in the small village of Whitefield when, while everyone was sleeping, a strange sound, a very hard to hear sound, threatened to wake the village up. On the contrary, only Aiya woke up, as he slept very lightly. Soon, he woke himself up by massaging his closed eyes, then he stood up to look at the window, searching for the origin of the sound.

He saw two people talking, two people he knew. He was living on the third floor of the house of the chief of the village, but under his floor, in the garden where he was found for the very first time, the two sons of Nelman were talking. They were similar to each other - they had black hair, a serious and honest attitude passed down by his father, pure black eyes.

He sighed. They, who slept two floors under him in a room alone, were able to wake him up involuntarily with their words. Still, he didn’t know why they were outside. Thinking it was something private, the kid chose not to disturb them and jumped with the help of magic from the opposite window, then he ran towards the border of the village.

He was going to a place that he had found, which was able to give him calmness and tranquillity. He walked for ten more minutes under the Sun which had just rose up and was shining with a gold yellow color. Meanwhile, the environment became wilder and wilder.

Having started his journey from stone and wood walls with various wells and roads of cobblestone, he had reached a spot that wasn’t touched by human buildings yet, a small lake surrounded by some trees which offered covering from the Sun, under a minuscule cliff which hid it from the outside world. Sunflowers lied on the cliff.

This place awaited him every time he did no longer want to stay in Whitefield.
After all, despite how much he refused to believe it, every «you don’t belong here!», «go back to the place you came from!», or «parasite, you’re here today too!» was able to make him feel more and more alienated.
«But is it my fault if this is how I am?» He asked himself that day. The only two people who were gentle to him were his brothers and father

.Meanwhile, the Sun was shining brightly over him as if he was the most beautiful of roses. He was sitting by the margin of the lake, under the cliff and next to an oak tree. He got his feet wet in the water and sighed lightly, looking for an answer for his own question.

«No one so far is quite like me.»

Even that place, now, had bored him. One more minute and he’d have gone back to the village where, as usual, nobody would need him. Feeling such a thing like an offense, he chose to wait longer. He closed his eyes and fell asleep quietly, lulled by the frail sound of butterflies, by the grass which was moved slightly by the wind, by the birds on the trees singing out of love.

His green eyes opened only an hour later, shaken by a loud sound, suddenly and in chaos. It was so loud that he could have heard it even another mile away. Immediately, fearing the worst, Aiya stood up, he shook away the grass which was left on his white casual clothes of bad quality, then he ran towards the village.

Running upwind, his dark green eyes were thrown up and down and messed around, but he didn’t care: there were more pressing problems. He only realized just how pressing they were after he saw, in the center of the city, in front of the famous well that everyone loved, a completely unknown figure.