The wind howled across the village, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke and ash. Two-year-old Dencial clung to his mother's hand, tiny fingers wrapped around hers as he waddled unsteadily along the cobblestone path. His father had been gone for years—an absence he barely remembered—leaving only stories whispered in the dark, stories of courage, of sacrifice, and of a mark that ran through their bloodline.
The villagers had always whispered about him. Even as a child, his black hair seemed darker, his eyes sharper, and his face… different. Some said it was the curse, a shadow of something unnatural. Others simply called him devilish, though no one could say why.
He had learned early: the world was not kind to those who were different. Yet, in his small life, there had been one beacon—his mother. Her warmth could pierce even the coldest stare. She believed in him, and that was enough.
That evening, Dencial was returning from the small market with his mother. His tiny legs struggled against the pace she kept, but he was happy—he had finally carried the basket on his own. Suddenly, screams shattered the calm. He turned to see three colossal figures charging through the village: hulking creatures with molten veins glowing under their skin, eyes burning like molten steel. Panic erupted. People scattered, doors slammed, and the once-quiet streets transformed into chaos.
His mother pushed him behind a cart, shielding him as best she could. "Stay close, my heart," she whispered. Her voice trembled, but her eyes burned with fierce determination.
Dencial froze. The creatures were coming closer, smashing everything in their path. And then… a flash of fire, a roar, and the world went black around him.
When he awoke, he was alone. The bodies of villagers lay strewn across the street. His mother… her body lay near the roots of an old tree, still and cold. Panic surged through him. "Mama!" he screamed, rushing to her side. He tried to lift her, but she did not stir. Tears blurred his vision as he ran toward the village, shouting for help, but the villagers' faces were twisted in fear.
"They say… the devil's child…" one whispered. "…He brings death."
Even as he shouted, no one moved to help. Instead, hands pointed, voices accused, and the crushing weight of hatred descended upon him. He was cursed. He was alone. And now, the only person who had ever believed in him… was gone.
The world became a blur of grief. He dragged his mother's lifeless body to the healer's house, but by the time he arrived, it was too late. The healer shook his head. "There's nothing… nothing we can do."
The whispers followed him. "He killed them both. A devil walks among us."
Dencial sank to his knees, his fists trembling. He wanted to scream, to cry, to disappear—but there was a faint warmth in his memory. His mother's smile. Her words, always encouraging: "You are stronger than they believe. One day, you will show them."
And then, a figure approached. A tall man with calm eyes and a presence that seemed to command both fear and respect. Kinoth, a close friend of his late father, knelt beside the child. "Dencial," he said gently, "you are not alone. You have a purpose, one your father dreamed for you. Come with me. I will guide you."
Dencial shook his head. "I… I don't want to live. Everyone… everyone hates me."
Kinoth sighed, producing a folded letter from his coat. "Your father wrote this for you. He believed in you… and he still does. Read it."
Tears stained the paper as Dencial opened it. The words were simple but filled with love, hope, and a vision he could barely comprehend: "My son, my only wish is for you to live. Live strong, live true. Become the protector our village needs. I believe in you… always."
The warmth returned—not enough to heal the grief, but enough to spark determination. His mother's faith, his father's belief, and now Kinoth's guidance—they all converged into a single, unyielding truth.
He would survive. He would rise. He would become more than the curse, more than the devil the villagers feared. He would become Dencial, the Forsaken Child, and one day, he would show the world that even a cursed child could shine brighter than anyone else.
As night fell, Kinoth lifted the boy into his arms. The moonlight reflected on Dencial's face, and for the first time, the faint, ominous mark on his cheek glimmered in the silver glow—a curse… or perhaps, a power waiting to awaken.
The journey had begun.