The village was a pit of ignorance and fear. These people—blind to curses, blind to the truth—were cowards. They saw what they didn’t understand and labeled it monstrous. And this girl… this fragile little thing with wide, tear-streaked eyes, had paid the price for their blindness.

I found her in the midst of the mission, crouched behind a pile of splintered wood, trembling. Her hands were scratched, dirt caked under her fingernails. Even through the chaos, I could see the weight she carried—the look of someone who thought this torment was her life sentence.

Her cursed energy flickered weakly around her like a barely-there shield. They had no idea what she was, what she could see, and they’d treated her like some kind of pest to be stomped out.

Pathetic.

I stepped toward her, my footsteps deliberate but gentle. Her shoulders tensed as though she’d been struck by invisible hands too many times to count.

“C’mon, little thing,” I murmured, holding out my hand. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

For a moment, she hesitated, eyes flickering between my hand and my face as though trying to determine whether I was a savior or just another nightmare. But I waited. I always waited when it mattered.

Her small, weathered hand slipped into mine, cold and desperate.

They had broken her spirit, but not beyond repair. I wouldn’t let them have that victory.