Chapter 1: The Boy with Sky-Colored Eyes
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The night in the City of Neutrality was gray.
No stars. No moon. Only the quiet fall of something like ash—though it wasn't dust, but the memory of things forgotten.
On the outskirts of the city, in a worn-down stone house, a boy sat on the cold doorstep with nothing but a worn leather bag at his side and tear-streaked dirt on his face.
His name was Auron Hotveil.
But in this house… he didn't have a name.
They only called him: "The Stranger."
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"Go."
A rough voice cut the silence. Auron didn't flinch.
He didn't cry.
He just stared at the sky, as if searching for a voice only he could hear.
His eyes were sky-colored—too vivid, too unnatural.
His hair shifted from dark blue at the roots to jet black at the tips, like twilight melting into midnight.
That alone made him a curse.
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"You're not one of us."
"Your blood brings sorrow."
"The sky only gives eyes like yours to the unwanted."
Words he had heard since childhood.
They were not meant for children, but no one saw him as one.
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With nowhere to go, he wandered the silent streets.
Until he stumbled upon a wooden board with a notice, handwritten in thick, rushed strokes:
"Help Wanted.
House of Lord Pearce.
Live-in servant. Meals included.
No questions. Men only."
Auron stared at it.
Then at his torn sleeves.
Then at the quiet city behind him.
A dry laugh escaped his throat.
"At least… they don't know me yet."
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And so began his journey.
Not as a savior. Not as a hero.
But as a boy searching for shelter, for work, for something that made sense.
Or just one answer:
"Why was I born with eyes that don't belong to anyone?"