The air in the small Kurnov birthing room hung thick with the smell of rain and fear. Outside, the September night raged, each clap of thunder that rattled the windowpanes mirroring the turmoil within. Leornars Servs Avrem entered the world amidst this tempest, and the attending doctor, a woman who had seen countless births, recoiled as if struck. Her breath hitched, eyes widening in horror at the sight of the infant's stark white hair. A strangled shriek tore from her throat before she turned and fled, her frantic footsteps echoing down the hallway as she cried out for the knights.
> Leornars's mother lay pale and trembling, her gaze fixed on the child at her feet. Disgust contorted her features as she whispered, her voice laced with despair, "Why? Why did the gods curse me with this… this thing?" Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her husband, "Is this some cruel jest?"
> Her husband, his face a mask of revulsion, stepped closer. "Only you, the doctor, and I have witnessed this… this abomination," he hissed, his voice low and urgent. "The best thing we can do is rid ourselves of it quickly." A shudder ran through his wife, but she nodded, her agreement swift and chilling.
"It is better he dies and we get our peace, he's a stain in the world" the mother added
" How should we end his life? " The father asked
"Burn him?,cut him to pieces and throw it to the forest?" The mother added
" We could just throw him into the well, noone will find him," the father added holding the child.
> Moments later, the infant Leonars, his cries weak against the storm's fury, was carried out into the night. The rough stone of the well felt cold against his newborn skin as he was dropped into its dark depths. Above, his parents knelt, their hushed prayers for his demise swallowed by the wind and rain, their hearts hardened against the sound of his desperate wails rising from below.
Drawn by a sound that cut through the relentless drumming of the rain, a homeless man approached the well. His clothes were rags, his face etched with hardship, but his ears caught the faint, desperate cries of an infant. Without hesitation, he peered into the dark shaft and then, with surprising strength, clambered down the slick stone walls. In the murky depths, he found the source of the sound – a tiny baby, soaked and shivering. Lifting the child carefully, he climbed back out into the storm. His eyes fell upon the babe's unusual white hair, and a sad understanding dawned on his face. "So," he murmured, his voice rough with disuse, "the world has already cast you out, little one."
> Driven by a flicker of compassion in his weary heart, the homeless man sought shelter for the child. The heavy wooden doors of the church remained closed to him, the priests within unwilling to take in a babe marked by such an unnatural sign. The orphanage offered no better welcome, their gatekeeper turning him away with a shake of the head and muttered words of ill omen. Defeated but resolute, the man found a meager crust of bread in his tattered pouch. He softened it with water from the well, creating a thin paste which he gently fed to the whimpering infant. Then, with a decisive tear, he ripped a strip from his own threadbare shirt and wrapped it around the child's frail body. A faint, tired smile touched his lips as he spoke, his voice raspy, "I haven't tasted food in these two weeks past, little one, but I will care for you. Never fear."
The days that followed bled into two weeks, each one a testament to the homeless man's dwindling strength. The meager crust he had shared with Leonarns was long gone, and the gnawing emptiness in his stomach grew with each passing hour. Yet, he continued to cradle the infant, offering soft words and what little warmth remained in his frail body. Unbeknownst to him, fear had taken root in Kurnov. The mayor, a stout man with a voice that boomed through the town square, declared, his face flushed with a self-righteous fury, "The white-haired devil still draws breath! This blight must be purged from our land!" A hunt was organized, torches flickering in the night as townsfolk, armed with whatever they could find, scoured the surrounding woods.
> It was a hunting party returning at dawn who found him. Not at the well, but deep within the shadowed embrace of the forest, his body broken and still. The brutal marks of a bear attack were unmistakable. The infant Leonarns was nowhere to be seen. A murmur rippled through the group. Some whispered of divine retribution, others simply relief that the "cursed child" was likely gone. Without ceremony, they dug a shallow grave and laid the homeless man to rest, their pronouncements of the baby's demise serving as a convenient closing to a disturbing chapter. They turned their backs on the silent woods, eager to forget the white-haired infant and the unfortunate soul who had tried to save him.
Unseen by the hunting party, the homeless man, in his final act of selfless protection, had nestled the infant Leonarns within a small, hidden cave. Two days crawled by, each marked by the baby's increasingly weak cries of hunger and fear echoing in the darkness. The scent of vulnerable life carried on the wind, attracting grim scavengers. Vultures, their shadows growing larger against the cave entrance, began to descend, their beady eyes fixed on the helpless child. Just as their talons reached for him, a different shadow fell across the opening.
> A figure stood silhouetted against the harsh sunlight, and as she stepped into the dimness, her own stark white hair seemed to absorb the remaining light. She moved with a quiet grace, her gaze immediately falling upon the injured and terrified infant. With gentle hands, she lifted Leonarns, and a soft luminescence emanated from her touch, the raw wounds on his tiny body closing and fading before their eyes. She offered him nourishment, a soothing warmth spreading through him as he drank. Later, she knelt beside the freshly turned earth of the homeless man's grave. A sorrowful expression touched her features as she whispered, her voice barely audible, "You deserved kindness, not this. But thank you… for him. I am grateful." Then, cradling the now-sleeping child, she turned and disappeared back into the wilderness.
The group was heard by afar celebrating the death of the white haired child, through the night they celebrated.
>It was four years later, Leornars was still in the dungeon room,his hair had overgrown and his skin too pale almost clear as snow, his lips dry and cracked as he sat on the uneven concrete floor with a torn up shirt and a ragged short,he had cuffs on his ankles and wrists.
" Four years, I've been here for fouryears, they have been torturing me for four years straight,crushed my fingers and they used healing crystals to heal them, smashed my legs and they healed them. I've had my organs ripped out and restored over and over and over, they tortured me over and over and over each day,each six hours. And they even showed me my mother's execution on repeat over 400 million times,my head hurts, I'm hurt.WHY ,WHY ME!!!?" Leornars screamed out in the dungeon.
Occasionally the mayor had the guards implant a brain chip on Leornars and constantly showed his of Emalian's execution on repeat, they physically tortured him each day and he only got food after two weeks.
Leornars screamed out in pain in the dungeon.
"I can't do this anymore,I can't" Leornars added I'm pain.
And that was the last time he spoke , after a few months later he had gone insane ,he constantly banged his head on the wall till he bleed,he was healed later on.
The nights in the dungeon were cold,he slept on the uneven floor,he occasionally screamed at night due to the pain he was going through,later the mayor got a bad news from the guards.
" He can't speak,he has lost his vocal ability due to the screams " the guard said , the mayor looked pleased.
" It's even better this way,if he is caught he can't speak,no secrets spilled," the mayor said happily
"Also we are using too much healing crystals on him, nearly 8 a day " the guard added.
"Eight?! Why?!" The mayor demanded
"He has been banging his head on the wall till he bled, he's been tearing up his own skin with his nails , so we use twice more as we do " the guard said.
"As long as he goes completely insane to a point he can't know who he is, let him bang his head, he's valuable don't let him die" the mayor said sternly as he left.
"Maybe I should have killed the boy and imprisoned the witch,huh( he sighed) can't start regretting now," the mayor said leaving, Leornars in the dungeon glared coldly as he passed.
" TAR..TOUR ROU! " Leornars muttered slowly almost a whisper as he let off a loud dry cough, the word in his native tongue translated to ( I'll take you to the depths of hell).
The mayor looked at him and smiled saying
" Don't worry,in time your conscious will be with your feeble mother" he said as he left laughing.
Years passed by slowly in the dungeon,the cold empty nights and Leornars's constant screams and head banging.he had watched his mother's death over 500 million times,he had gone completely insane and began to devour the insects and rats in the dungeon due to his hunger, later he found the rats inadequate and began feasting on his own flesh fully aware they would heal him, the torture didn't end but increased due to him wasting their healing crystals.
"Five hundred million! She's died five hundred million times,I have witnessed her death over and over, I'm not sure what is real anymore" he thought painfully.