Rain slicked the uneven stones of the village as young Sushe Stro crouched, his small hands chapped and bleeding from the day's work. The bitter wind cut through his tattered sleeves, and every whispered curse from the villagers felt like knives. He flinched as his father's rough palm slapped him across the face. "Cursed brat! You'll rot here forever if you don't—"
"Father…" Sushe whispered, though the word held no warmth. It hung in the damp air like a fragile plea, and went unanswered.
From the doorway, Sosre Son appeared, tall and steady, eyes blazing with quiet fire. He shoved a villager back who had been closing in. "Step away! He's my brother!" His voice cut through the jeers like a blade through silk.
The villagers hissed and spat, but Sosre's stance was unwavering. "You think the mark makes him less than you? You're blind if you do," he growled.
Sushe's chest tightened. He looked down at the faint glow curling along his wrist, the Ancient Divine Curse Mark that had branded him from birth. He hated it. Hated how it made others scream, hate, fear him. But… the moment Sosre grabbed his shoulder, steadying him, a warmth bubbled through him — a spark of hope.
That night, under a sky choked with clouds, Sosre led him through the tangled jungle paths. Branches tore at their sleeves, roots snagged their feet, but Sushe barely noticed. All he could think of was the promise: "I'll come back for you. One day, I swear it."
They reached a clearing where a small wooden hut waited, barely visible through the foliage. Sosre set a hand on Sushe's shoulder, eyes locked. "Stay here. Train. Survive. One day, you'll see the world differently. You'll be stronger than anyone who ever spat on you."
Sushe's lips quivered, not with tears but with determination. "I… I will. I'll become… a Qorva. And nothing — not the mark, not this village — will hold me down."
Sosre Son gave a short, tight nod and vanished into the shadows, leaving Sushe alone. The hut smelled of damp wood and smoke, but it felt like a sanctuary. For the first time, the world seemed vast, terrifying… and full of possibilities.
Sushe gripped the hilt of a rusted practice blade. The faint glow of his curse mark pulsed across his wrist like a heartbeat. And somewhere deep inside, a fire ignited — one that would not die.
To be Continued...