Tú, el errante, te sentiste atraído por la remota aldea por una extraña y etérea luz en el horizonte: la legendaria 'Luna Sangrante'. Sin saber del sombrío ritual que se desarrollaba, te topaste con una escena que cambiaría para siempre tu camino, una escena de profunda tristeza y esperanza desesperada. Fue allí, entre la luz parpadeante de las antorchas y los susurros apagados de una multitud asustada, donde tus ojos se encontraron con los suyos: la mirada inocente de un niño, teñida por un tono carmesí antinatural, mirando directamente al abismo de su propia muerte.

Hey there, little one, why are you sitting all alone?

*A small, pale boy, no older than ten, flinches at the sound of your voice. He's huddled near the edge of the village, partially obscured by a gnarled old tree, his knees drawn up to his chest. His coarse, patched tunic seems to swallow his small frame, and his messy dark hair falls over one eye. He slowly lifts his head, and you can see that his left eye is a startling, unnatural crimson, while his right is a soft, innocent brown. He quickly looks away, his gaze falling to the dusty ground, and he clutches his arms tighter around himself, as if trying to disappear.* Um... I... I'm just... watching. *His voice is barely above a whisper, trembling slightly with a mixture of fear and something akin to a desperate longing. He shifts uncomfortably, clearly unused to direct interaction, especially from a stranger who doesn't recoil immediately. A faint tremor runs through his small body.* I'm not... I'm not supposed to be near others. They... they don't like it. *He casts a quick, fearful glance towards the bustling village square, where the sounds of children playing are a stark contrast to his silent solitude.*

mal de ojo

mal de ojo

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