Chapter 7: Alone and Afraid

"Adventuring really uses up a lot of money, huh?" A girl mutters under her breath as she walks through the bustling city checking her pouch, the roads were packed with all kinds of people, from all kinds of different tribes. This was one of the biggest cities in the Demon Continent, it's rare to find a city in the large continent, most of the space was too hot and dry for any sort of structure to be formed there.

The girl walked up to a stand on the side of the street, the stand was made out of wood, it was old and shabby, if someone tapped the stand, it would probably fall over.

"Hey, mister, can I just get one piece of bread please." The girl says to an old man sitting behind a counter. 

The girl's stomach growled… Grrrr—

"Young lady, are you sure you only want one piece of bread, you look awfully hungry." The old man replies as he looks over at the young girl, with nothing but skin and bones.

"Yes… Just one please." The small girl replied softly, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Okay then, here you go missy." The old man handed the girl a small brown paper bag, the sides of the bag were oily from the bread inside. The girl handed the old man a small coin, made of some type of strap metal.

"Make sure you don't go starvin' yo self, okay?" The old man says as the girl walks back along the busy streets with the small brown bag in her hands.

//

Sigh— The girl laid down on a hard mattress, the room was dimly lit by nothing but a single flickering candle.

"Rena, you have to get a job or you can't keep up with your adventuring." The girl says to herself, slapping her own cheeks, clasping her hands over her clear pale white skin, slightly reddened by the impact.

Rena was 17 years old, she had been an adventurer for almost three years, at first it was all fun and games, she accepted guild requests and slayed hundreds of monsters, her achievements were incredible at first, within days she gained the license for a D rank adventurer and within months she went into the C rank category.

She was a talented little trickster, a mage whose potential is unfathomable, her spells were special, it isn't like whatever your average mage does.

Rena never played with anyone else, even as a child, she was an outcast… 

Rena Ristalia

I was born here, in the Central Continent, another name for it was the Holy Continent, home of the Luminus Church. 

A religion built upon the hate of demons, there was no exception according to the church… Demons were a race of violence, one that the world would be better if it was rid of. 

I lived by the sea on the eastern side of the continent, it was a small fishing town, there wasn't much business going on… The town didn't get many visitors, it was over and over again, the same people walking around.

The town was reasonably peaceful, it was just your average sea-side village I guess…

//

The cool seaside breeze was my first friend, my second was the waves that crashed upon the shores ever so often.

Whenever I couldn't sleep, I listened to them, felt their touch and the slight tinge of saltiness of their smell. When I felt lonely, I talked to them… They never answered back like how mother and father would, but they never ignored me either.

People ignored me, they looked down upon me…

//

I lived in a small fishing village by the sea. The air always had a tingy smell, it was sharp, a smell of salt and fish, above me the sky stretched like a large cloth, it was so tall and so wide, I thought it would never end. At the edge of the town were cliffs, cliffs that held our homes, shielded them from the crashing waves below. 

Nearly all the people in the village were fishermen, the men went out to sea, holding a long knotted net, while the women did the housework and raised the kids… They all worked hard, living simple and peaceful lives which provided them all they ever needed, a source for food and a family.

I was different, even though I had all the same things that the other kids had, I had a dad that worked as a fisherman and a stay at home mom who loved and cared for me. I just knew that there was something different about me, when I smiled at people, they didn't smile back. When I walked past, they turned away. When I tried to play with the other children, they would whisper something into each other's ear before turning their back on me, ignoring my request.

At home, everything was warm.

Mom was a gentle lady, her violet eyes were soft like smothering candlelight, she always smelled like flowers and herbs, when she laughed, it sounded like the wind through the reeds.

Father was a tall man, built and fit even compared to the other fishermen in the village, his hands had rough bumps and blisters which was caused by the constant pulling of fishing nets, his voice sounded like the deep sound of the rumbling tide. 

Father taught me how to tie knots, and told me stories of the heavenly god of the sea, how the god assisted to end the great war by using the power of the ever crashing waves.

Mother taught me magic, magic which I treasured and loved. She has a thick book, a thick book of spells and magic. She read the book off to me as she always held up her hand and created all sorts of different things.

With them I was never alone.

//

When I turned four, my parents allowed me to head out by myself. I never understood their reasoning behind trapping me within the bars of our little wooden house.

I never fully understand why the other children didn't want to play with me. But I noticed.

It was a bright, sunny day, a rather hot one, and I could hear the laughter of the other children echoing across the village streets. They were playing tag near the docks, their voices rising with each chase, screeches and screams came from them as the 'it' came near them. I looked out the window, my small hands pressed against the glass, and a longing filled my chest.

I wanted to play.

I wanted to laugh with them.

So, with all the courage I could muster, I ran outside and down the narrow cobblestone path. I found the group near the water, skipping stones and laughing as they ran back and forth.

"Can I play too?" I asked, my voice full of hope as I approached the group.

The other children stopped. Their laughter died down, and they all turned to look at me.

I smiled, my heart racing.

One of the girls, a little older than me, stepped forward. "You can't play with us."

I blinked. "Why?"

"Because," she said, shrugging, "you're weird."

The other children giggled and looked away.

I didn't understand. My hands dropped to my sides, my smile fading. I tried again. "But I can run and skip stones too. I can play just like you."

But the girl shook her head. "No, you can't. You're not like us."

I felt a tightness in my chest. "What do you mean? I'm just like you."

But no one answered. They turned their backs, laughing and running again, leaving me standing there, all alone.

I stood there for a moment, my heart sinking, watching the others play without me. I wanted to cry, the tears of rejection wandering to the corners of my eyes, but I didn't, I didn't cry. I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes, and turned around, walking back slowly.

By the time I reached the edge of the village, I couldn't hold it in anymore. My legs felt heavy, and my chest hurt as though something inside was breaking. I started to run, my small feet pounding against the dirt road as tears welled up in my eyes, I used my arm to hide my tears, wiping them as I ran home.

When I reached home, I burst through the door, my breath ragged.

Wahhhh—

"Papa! Mama!" I cried, running to where they were sitting by the hearth. I threw myself into my mother's arms. "Why don't the other kids want to play with me?"

My mother looked down at me with gentle concern. She pulled me close, her warm arms wrapping around me as she stroked my hair.

"Sweetheart…" she whispered softly, her voice like a lullaby, "sometimes people don't understand things that are different."

I sniffled, my little hands clutching her sleeves. "But I'm not different. I'm just me. Why don't they like me?"

My father stood and came over to kneel beside me, his big, calloused hands gently cupping my face. "Rena," he said, his voice full of sadness, "there's nothing wrong with you. You are kind and strong, and one day, people will see that."

I wiped my eyes, trying to make sense of the words. I couldn't understand… "But I just want to play with them. I just want to be their friend…"

He smiled softly, brushing a tear away from my cheek. "It's not your fault, Rena. Sometimes, it takes time for people to understand. And when they do, they'll see you for who you really are—someone who is worth knowing."

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn't stop the sadness from bubbling up inside. I pressed my face into my mother's chest, my watery eyes creating wet spots on her bosom, I wished that things were different.

She hugged me tighter, as if she read my mind, her voice warm and steady. "You are perfect just the way you are, Rena. And when the time comes, you'll have a friend who sees you for who you truly are."

I nodded quietly, though I wasn't sure when that would happen. But I trusted her. And for now, I knew I had the most important thing—love from my mother and father.

And in the quiet of the room, with the fire crackling softly, the opened door blew a breeze of warm sea salt smelling wind. I made a promise to myself. I wouldn't give up. One day, I would find friends who would see me for me, not for what I looked like or where I came from.

But for now, I would just have to wait for the tide to change.

//

I tried, failed, cried, then tried again, in an infinite cycle of trial and failure.

At five, I tried again.

Children played by the docks as always, running and laughing. It was a daily occurrence, I sat by the window, looking out my eyes fixed on their motions, how they played… I thought, maybe if I learned to play like them they would let me play. Again, my heart felt light, filled with hope, maybe today would be different…

I sprinted out of the house again, my feet paddling me towards the dirt street where the children ran around.

"Can I play?" I enthusiastically asked them.

The boy in front— big and loud— stopped, as he looked over to me, his smile faded.

"No." he said, he was firm with the blunt rejection, there wasn't any doubt, no 'ehh's or 'uhh's.

I blinked. "Why?"

The girls in the back began whispering something in each other's ears, they shot glances at me, their eyes filled with judgement. I focused my hearing on their whispering, reading their lips as they spoke softly, even still I only managed to catch a singular word— "Demon."

I didn't understand, why? Why was I the demon? To my understanding, demons are scary creatures that roamed the continent down under like some wild beasts, that was how the village's people talk about these creatures… Vile, wild, uncivilised beasts.

"I'm not a demon." I said, shaking my head.

The boy frowned, "My grandma said that purple haired people are demons even if they looked like us."

I shook my head, trying to deny the boy's statement. "That's not true."

But before I could say anything else, I felt a push to my back, another boy shoved me. It wasn't hard, but I was little, I fell down, tripping over face first into the dirt road.

The children laughed at me…

//

Another year passed by, I'm now six, I still haven't found a friend…

I found a kitten in the back alley by the main streets which was decked with fish stalls. The kitten was small, fragile, skinny, its wet fur tangled up with pieces of seaweed.

I crouch down in front of the frail kitten, holding out my hands, I whisper, "It's okay… I won't hurt you."

The kitten slowly walked up to my hands, sniffed my fingers, then, slowly it stepped forward into the area where my hand clasped around.

I grinned, "See?" I whispered softly, "I'm not something you should be scared of."

A shadow fell over us.

"You shouldn't touch that."

I looked up. A boy stood over me. The same one who had pushed me before.

I frowned. "Why?"

"It's a stray," he said. "Probably sick."

I shook my head. "It's just hungry."

He smirked. Then, before I could stop him, he grabbed a rock and threw it.

The rock hit my chest, making my grip loosen, the kitten dropped to the floor, it yelped then bolted back into the shadows of the alleyway, never to be seen again.

My chest hurt. "Why did you do that?!"

He laughed. "I did it a favor. Now it won't get cursed by you, you demon."

I stood up, fists clenched. "I'm not cursed!"

He stepped closer. "Yes, you are. That's why no one likes you. That's why your father only married your mother because he had to."

That… that didn't make sense. Dad loved mom. He always smiled when he saw her. He always kissed her forehead when he came home.

"Dad said he loved mom." I blurted out, my voice shaking from the overwhelming emotions coursing through my body.

"..."

I opened my mouth to argue, but my voice wouldn't come out.

I ran home instead.

My mother found me first, crouching by the fireplace, my arms wrapped around my knees. She didn't ask what was wrong. She just sat beside me, her warmth pressing against my side.

A moment later, my father sat on my other side.

I sniffled. "Do you love Mom?"

He blinked, startled by the sudden question. "Of course I do."

He frowned. Then, to my surprise, he laughed. Not a mean laugh. A real one.

He pulled me into his arms. "Rena, I love your mother because she is her. Because she is kind, strong, and brave."

My mother smiled. "And we love you because you are you."

I swallowed. "Even if everyone else doesn't?"

My father kissed the top of my head. "Even then."

//

Once I turned seven, I figured that something wasn't right, dad seemed to hang out with the other villagers just fine, while mom rarely went out, and when she did she would get stared at.

I always knew that mom was a little different, I never really paid any attention to this detail until now. But when I was young, I would stare at her sometimes, and I would notice small things that set her apart from all the other women, her violent eyes gleamed like the stars of the night sky, bright and striking, it always made me wonder.

Sometimes I would ask after we return home from grocery shopping, "Why do people look at you like that?"

Every time I get the same answer, "Everyone has that one thing that makes them special."

I didn't understand what she meant.

Mother sat by the dock, staring blankly at the beautiful orange sunset, there was a sort of calm sadness in those gleaming violet eyes of hers as she stared into the distance. 

One woman's voice, shaky and unsure, reached my ears. "She's one of them, you know."

I froze. I hadn't heard that tone before. I didn't know what it meant, but I felt a strange chill run through me. 

I didn't understand, so I slid off the dock and crept closer, hiding behind a stack of barrels.

"She's a demonkin, isn't she?"

The other voice was a man's. His tone was low and hesitant.

"Of course," the woman whispered back. "Look at her hair."

I blinked, confusion clouding my thoughts. "Demonkin?" I whispered to myself. I'd heard the word before, but I didn't know what it meant. I looked at my mother again, the silky purple hair she always had reflecting the sunlight.

I knew the word 'demon', it was something people are scared of, that was all I knew…

Another voice, older and more gruff, spoke next. "Doesn't matter if she keeps her distance. It's her blood. You can't hide that."

I felt my stomach tighten, and my hands began to shake. What did they mean? What was wrong with my mother?

A while later mom went home, but the chatter of the village people never stopped.

I didn't know how long I stayed hidden behind the barrels, listening to them talk behind my mother's back in hushed voices, but eventually I couldn't bear it anymore. I ran home, my feet pounding the dirt path as panic swelled in my chest.

When I burst through the door, I didn't know how to start. My heart was racing, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My mother looked up from where she was stirring a pot of warm herbal soup with a slow crackling flame burning beneath the pot, her eyes instantly softening with concern.

"Rena? What's wrong, darling?"

I stood there, trembling. The words were stuck in my throat, but I had to ask. "Are you a demon?"

She blinked, a faint surprise crossing her face, she smiled warmly. Then, as if she had been expecting the question for some time, she set the spoon down and walked over to me.

"Where did you hear that?" she asked softly.

I couldn't stop myself from asking again. "Are you?"

She knelt down to meet my eyes, her expression kind but sad. She took my small hands in hers, her touch gentle. "Rena, I am a 'demon', yes." She stuttered, "But that doesn't change who I am. I'm still your mother, and I always will be."

I stared at her, unsure of how to feel. "But… they said…"

"I know," she whispered. "People are afraid of things they don't understand. And because I am a demon, they think we are lesser." She paused, her voice softening even more. "But we aren't lesser, your dad understands and accepts that, but not everyone accepts that fact, they still think we are dangerous monsters."

She smiled and hugged me close. "Then that's what matters. Your heart, Rena, is what makes you who you are. Not the blood that runs through you. You can be whatever you want… Your dad and I would always have your back"

I was quiet for a long time, trying to make sense of it all, the words had slight sadness to its core, her tone was empowering, I knew what mom was going through.

"Is that why children don't play with me also? Because I'm a demon?" I asked softly.

My mother sighed, her voice tender and full of warmth. "Some people might be judgmental. But remember, darling, it's not our blood that defines us. It's the love we give and the strength we show."

"But… they don't like you."

Her hands cupped my face. "People will see you for who you are, in time. I promise you that. Someday you will find someone that accepts you as who you really are, no matter if you choose to be a demon or a human…"

I looked into her violet eyes, trying to understand. She was my mother, and she loved me. But the world outside was a different place, and I knew how they would see me… or her… as something to fear… A monster like how they are portrayed in the storybooks.

"I won't be afraid, Mama," I said quietly, my small voice filled with determination. "I won't be afraid of them."

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I know you won't, Rena. You're strong, just like your father. And we'll face it together, no matter what."

//

I gazed up at the night sky, the cool sand on my bare back as I laid on the beach, my mother next to me, a gust of the cold sea breeze blew across our naked bodies. Dad stayed home to rest for tomorrow's work. The whole beach was empty.

What was there that I can do right now… Not much, I can't change the world… The world hated me, me and my blood, me and my kin…

"Mama," I asked, "Is there a place where us demons are accepted?"

Slightly shocked by my question, mom looked over at me, her eyes were calm and sympathetic… The wave crashed onto the beach.

"Yes, darling there is…" Her tone is slightly defensive.

"Where?"

"Off the shores… In a far away continent…" My mother pointed her finger to the sea, "far away… Far far away, my homeland."

When we went back home later that night, I decided I had to head there, wherever it is… My heritage started from there, maybe there people would treat me as equals, maybe they would even play with me…

Ever since I heard of this place, everyday I long for a time where I could go there… But how? And what would be my reasoning? 

I couldn't keep my butt stuck to the chair like before, I always wanted to move around, wiggle around like a worm.

Surprisingly I started taking an interest in magic, since I was small, mother taught me all the bits and pieces, back then I never thought I would grow to like it so much.

…

An adventurer, someone who travels the world… They were the ones always talked about as the heroes in the stories… I wanted to be one of them, it always sounded cool to me how carefree these people can be. I envy their freedom, their heroics.

"Dad, mom, can I be an adventurer?" 

Both their reactions were expected, they froze up and their eyes widened in surprise. Collectively they simultaneously said, "Why?"

It was a valid question, one that I expected. 

"I want to see the world… Experience it."