The scene before his eyes was like a dream… or perhaps a hallucination. For a moment, he thought he had lost his mind, but soon he realized… it was reality.
Little girls lay scattered on the ground, not resembling children but ghosts emerging from a war that had yet to be written about.Their gazes… were a mixture of sorrow and emptiness, as if their eyes had witnessed a thousand years of death and resurrection, then returned devoid of all life.
Their clothes were tattered, unfit even for the poorest of slaves.Their wounds… festering, bloody, and rotten, covered with black spots as if woven from suffering itself.Yet… no pain showed on their faces, only that empty stare, waiting for death with longing.
Motz (thinking):"Is this a dream? Or am I looking at tiny versions of myself?"
He looked at the first—seemingly the oldest, no older than eleven.Her skin was a deep dark shade, her body thin to the point of illness, as if she had never tasted food.
Her hair was split into two halves: one side dull gray, the other as black as night.Her eyes, originally spring-green, were now shadowed with blackness, resembling an abyss without bottom.Her face wore a fierce scowl, her anger nearly consuming him, as if she meant to kill him with just a glance.
He noticed her pointed ears, a mark that she was of the "Dark Elves" race, but what caught his attention most… were two small horns in the center of her forehead, one broken.
Motz (in disbelief):"A demon...? No… a hybrid… between a dark elf and a demon."
She looked at him with disdain, her voice dripping with hatred:"Stay away. Are you one of them?"
He did not answer… because he did not understand what she meant.
Then he looked at the second.
A small girl no older than nine, with skin white as moonlight, a body pale as if drained of blood.Her golden hair was soft, stained with blood, and her eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to drown anyone who stared into them.
When she saw Motz, she bared tiny fangs… the fangs of a vampire.A strange aura surrounded her, like lost spirits.
She spoke in a voice layered with deep fear:"Have you come to cut off my head? Or to enjoy my torment?"
Motz (thinking):"How does a child know such a kind of terror?"
He then turned to his left and saw the third, lying in the middle of an explosion crater.
She was about eight years old, her face covered in ash and blood.Beneath the grime, her pale skin barely visible.A long tail like a lizard's trailed behind her, and burnt wings looked as if they had been baked in embers.
Despite her monstrous appearance, a strange sacred aura surrounded her, as if she was half divine.
One eye was blood-red, the other amber-yellow.Her red hair was streaked with black, shining faintly in the dim light of the explosion.
She looked at him with indifference, without question, without words.A gaze that clearly said:
"Finally… I will die."
Motz (thinking):"What could a child have seen… to wish for death like that?"
Then he looked at the last one.
She was crying in a trembling voice, her sobs piercing the heart, as if she had seen the world burn before her eyes.No older than six, the signs of torture were clear on her fragile body.
Her eyes were black, but tears made them seem void and empty.Her purple hair framed her face, and her ears resembled those of a cat, one of them torn.Suddenly… wings without feathers sprouted from her back, as if someone had ripped them from an angel's body.
She stepped toward him fearfully, then shouted:"Please… don't hurt the others. Kill me only… and let them escape."
Motz (thinking):"A child that age… sacrificing herself? How pure… how wise."
In the midst of his bewilderment, between what he saw and heard, he heard himself speak, as if another being inside him had taken control of his tongue:
"The night is cold… come, let us take shelter from the cold."
He was surprised by his own voice.The girls looked at him with surprise, fear, and silence.
To prove his intentions, he drew his sword… and threw it to the ground before them, then nudged it away with his foot.The horned elf cautiously picked it up.
He walked toward the door of the hut, then turned back and said,"Come in… now."
The youngest stepped in first, followed slowly by the others… with desperate steps.They did not know if he would shelter them… or kill them.
But the cold… was harsher than fear.