The Elestar: Zero

"It's all your fault! I thought I was calling the demon to you! So many people died because of you!"

I lay down on the ground and gradually raised my head. Those repeated sounds… They were spoken to me. The woman who had called out had yelled so loudly that others were turning to look for me. Looking around at all the eyes of the people around me, all I could see was anger. Hatred. Disgust. I didn't understand. Why were these people staring at me? The other started to pile on, all following the lead of the woman who'd made the accusations:

"It's all because of you!"

"Get out of here, demon!"

"If you hadn't been here, none of it would have happened!"

"That kid is in league with the devil!"

Their yells cut through me, sound hundreds of cuts, each one more serrated than the next.

Hans was the only one on my side who tried to defend me.

"He's not at fault!" Hans pleaded.

"Attu didn't do anything! This is the fault of the demon!"

No one listened.

"Kill him," someone growled.

"Then the demon does not return.

A rock was thrown at me, hitting me on the shoulder. That was all it took. More villagers grabbed stones. More shouts. More rage. And then the barrage began. Rocks pelted my body. It hurt — but none of it compared to what I was already feeling inside.

A stone struck the bundle I held in my hands. I squeezed it hard and protected the last piece of my mother from their anger. I folded myself up, doing everything I could to keep her hand from being damaged.

That's when Hans finally snapped.

"Enough!" he roared.

"Stop this madness! You're attacking a child—a child! And how can you even blame him for all of this? It was the demon! Not him!"

But then someone in the crowd stepped up and shouted:

"Look at his eyes! Those aren't human!"

"The demon chased him. He left the village, and it followed him here! He's the reason it came! Kill the fucker, and it won't come back!"

More voices joined in agreement.

Hans never imagined they'd turn like this.

A second voice sounded from the audience:

"Tie him up and abandon him in the wilderness. Let the demon eat him. Then it'll leave us alone!"

I heard all of it. Every single word. And I wanted to shout — I could not.

[What did I ever do to you?! Why are you blaming me?! Just because I look different? Why?! Why are you torturing me?!" ]

Hans stopped in his tracks for a moment, then he made a decision. He tilted toward the crowd and said:

"Then come let me take him out to the forest. I'll leave him far from here. The further we go from him, the further the demon will be from us."

It was a lie— But it was a lie to save me.

"Everybody go back to your houses," Hans commanded. "I'll handle this myself."

The villagers murmured and looked suspicious, but gradually moved away.

Hans knelt down beside me, brought me up, murmured: "Follow me."

He didn't say anything else on the drive back to my house. He'd usually try to joke, poke fun or cheer me up. But this time … he said nothing at all.

Back at my house, Hans got to work. He dug, with one hand—his remaining hand. An arm may have been gone, but there was strength. I would just sit close by and watch. He knew I was of no help now. He didn't ask me to assist.

Hours passed. And when he was done digging the grave, we buried my mother's hand together.

He returned to earth and stood without speaking beside the house. I paused a few moments at the grave,— I could not leave,— I could not stir. I was completely lost. It was like life had stood me up.

I came back to the house at last. As Hans got to his feet to follow, he stumbled, almost slipping. I rushed to catch him.

"Pack your things," he managed to say. "You can't stay here. If you do… they'll kill you."

I went to my room. First, I stripped my waterlogged river clothes. After that, I packed whatever I thought would help me survive.

I smelled a familiar smell when I came back down. I followed it to the kitchen — and there, Hans had placed food on the table.

"Sit. Eat something. You probably haven't eaten anything."

"I'm … I'm not hungry," I mumbled — just as my stomach growled.

He gave a faint smile.

"We're not letting you out until you eat."

I gazed at the food and blinked.

"Where did this come from? When did you have a chance to cook?"

"I didn't," he replied. "Your mother cooked it yesterday—for your birthday."

My chest tightened. I took a seat and tried the soup. It was warm. Sweet. Comforting. I didn't think I had ever tasted anything so delicious.

And I cried.

"It's… so good. Thank you, Mom."

When I was done, Hans accompanied me to the village gates. The hatred I'd seen on the part of the villagers' eyes … I couldn't forget it.

"When you take that road," Hans said, "you come to a fork. Follow the left path—it will take you into the city. It's a day's journey. It's the closest one. And here—take this."

And then small pouch of silver coins out and pressed it into my hand.

"You'll need it."

"Thank you—for the coins … and everything."

I took a strip of black cloth from my pack and tied it around my eyes.

"Never again will I display these eyes to anyone."

Hans stared at me with regret.

"Did you do anything to protect yourself?"

"I've got a knife."

"Take this too."

She took the sword from his belt—he kept it on the left, the side he now couldn't use—and threw it to me.

"I can't use it anymore. But maybe you can."

I unsheathed it. The blade was polished, sharp, and shining. It was just a few years old, but it had been well maintained.

"Thank you," I said softly. "I won't forget your kindness."

"Stay safe," Hans said … and stood in silence as I walked away. I stepped away from the village and headed for the forest.

Toward a new life.