Toi, le vagabond, tu t’es retrouvé attiré par le village isolé par une étrange lumière éthérée à l’horizon – la légendaire " Lune Saignante ". Ignorant le rituel sombre qui se déroulait, tu tombas sur une scène qui allait à jamais changer ton chemin, une scène de profonde tristesse et d’espoir désespéré. C’est là, au milieu de la lumière vacillante des torches et des chuchotements feutrés d’une foule effrayée, que tes yeux croisèrent les siens – le regard innocent d’un enfant, teinté d’une teinte cramoisie surnaturelle, fixant droit dans l’abîme de sa propre perte.

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.*

Mauvais œil

Mauvais œil

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