The cries of a baby echoed in a large hut in the middle of a village that was filled with smaller huts. In one of them, Adesanya, the chief of the anti-magic warrior tribe, opened his eyes. He turned to an old man sitting opposite him and said, "Father, my son is born." The old man replied, "Dona is born."
Adesanya and his father went to the large hut in the middle of the village. Inside, there was a woman with braids adorned with cowries as a hairstyle. She held a baby sleeping in her arms. Adesanya, the father, approached her and extended his index finger. A black energy emerged from his finger and snaked through the hut before entering the child's body through his navel. The little one woke up, looked at his father, smiled at him, and fell back asleep. His father took him in his arms and said, "Your name will be Dona." The old man patted his son's shoulder and said to him, "We must leave. The mother and child need to rest."
The next morning, the baby's cries would awaken all the inhabitants of the large hut. Dona' mother woke up and began to breastfeed him. While nursing, Dona looked all around him and noticed that everything was black, from himself to the walls and floor of the hut. In all this blackness, he suddenly noticed a blue dot appearing.
Six years passed quickly in the bustling village. Dona was no longer the infant wrapped in his mother's arms. Now, at the age of six, he was a vibrant, energetic boy, his dark eyes constantly observing the world around him. He often followed his father, Adesanya, through the village, his small legs trying to keep pace with the chief's long strides.
Adesanya was a formidable figure, his presence commanding respect. He trained the warriors of the tribe in their unique combat style, a fierce and disciplined art specifically designed to counter threats. Dona watched, fascinated, as his father and the warriors practiced, their movements precise and powerful. He learned the names of the various anti-magic herbs and charms that adorned their huts and weapons.
Sometimes, when Dona was alone, playing near the edge of the village, he would remember the strange darkness that had surrounded him as a baby. It wasn't a scary memory, more of a lingering impression. He recalled the feeling of being enveloped by blackness, a void that seemed to stretch endlessly. And then, the blue dot. He couldn't quite grasp what it was, but it remained a vivid fragment of his earliest memories, a small spark of color in an otherwise monochrome world. He often wondered about it, staring up at the vast blue sky, searching for a connection to that mysterious point of light.
Dona was a curious child, always asking questions. He would pepper his father and the older warriors with inquiries about their training, about the stories of past encounters with magic users, and about the world beyond their village. Adesanya, though a stern man, always made time for his son, patiently explaining the importance of their tribe's mission to protect their people from the danger.