~The Author~
The old man helped him dye his hair from white to black. Xavier wished he didn't have to, but there was no other choice. His long white hair set him apart too clearly. In Xylonia, no ordinary human had such hair. Only witches did. Their hair was either golden blond or pure white, glowing under the light like a mark of power. Black, brown, and red were rare among them, barely making up even one percent of their kind.
Now that most of the witches had been killed, those with dark hair were nearly impossible to find. They had been wiped out completely, and that thought alone crushed him. He had lived through the war. He had seen what they did. The memory still haunted him. And he knew deep in his heart that he would never forgive the people of Xylonia for what they did to his kind. None of them would.
"I'm done," the old man said quietly, stepping aside so he could look into the mirror.
