Cursed Odyssey

"Hello there…"

A figure approached through the shadows—tall, easily six feet, moving with deliberate steps. The guard remained oblivious, but the three boys snapped to attention, instinctively raising their guards.

"Who the hell are you!" Lee's whispered shout cracked as he drew his sword.

The Zott stepped back, looking ready to flee before Joseph intervened.

There's not even an illusion of respect between them. Joseph studied the interaction before speaking.

"Calm down. He's harmless—just a kid like us."

Despite the Zott's imposing size, Joseph could read his mental age in every gesture. Since entering the village, he'd noticed something odd: no child-sized Zotts anywhere. They likely reproduced through cloning or some similar method. The horn length probably indicated true age.

"You don't know shit, you filthy pile of snow!" Lee spat. "He's probably a spy from the Rert district Azamas!"

Gang wars? Joseph sighed, massaging his temples.

"I—I don't associate with them." The Zott raised trembling hands, sweat beading on his forehead. "I come in peace."

"Yeah, that's what they all say! What do you want? Spit it out!"

Joseph had observed the village's crude child-rearing tradition through weeks of careful study. Children roamed free with minimal guidance, learning the world's "true nature" through experience. Only upon reaching maturity would they enter the holy house for baptism and proper education. Freedom in youth, order in adulthood.

Religious nonsense, Joseph thought. Though I've seen worse back on Earth.

The principle behind it seemed clear: One does not need to know hatred to fight against it. It should be unplucked at the root and prevented from ever flourishing.

This explained why even he, an outsider child, enjoyed relative freedom—and why Lee's gang could wander so late.

The black-horned Zott seemed lost for words, his response caught in his throat. His gaze swept over Lee's malice-filled glare and his friends' hostile stares, but when amber eyes met Joseph's crimson ones, something shifted. Warmth. An invitation he couldn't reject.

"I'm looking to make friends," he finally stammered.

"HUH?!" Lee's voice pitched higher than a girl's.

"Is this a prank? Go make friends with your own kind!" Ginger Kalo spat.

The Zott paused, gathering courage. "I don't get along with other Zotts. They're harsh to people like me, so..."

"And you think we'd be any less harsh?" Lee laughed bitterly. "Not in a million years!"

"It will be possible with the divine will and blessing of our ancestors," the Zott said softly.

Lee faltered. "Maybe... I guess... Enough! Are you here to fight or not?" He thrust his sword forward.

"No, I just want—"

"YEAH! TO BE FRIENDS! Sure thing! Now tell the truth before I—"

Before Lee realized it, Joseph stood beside him, hand gently lowering the wooden sword.

"Enough. He has no ill intent." Joseph met Lee's glare evenly, then softened his expression toward the Zott. "What's your name?"

A small, reassuring smile crossed his face.

The Zott hesitated. "Baro. My name is Baro."

"Baro." Joseph nodded. "Tell me—why were you stalking me all day?"

The air grew heavy. Serenity shattered with a whispered confession.

"Because I thought we could be friends."

Lee and his gang's eyes widened. No wonder he hesitated to speak. Such blasphemy. Everyone knew the dangers of befriending outsiders.

"I thought we were similar." Baro swallowed hard. "I watched you try to help everyone, including us Zotts. I saw them beat you, turn you away, even try to kill you. But I could sense your intent to help, and I felt I could learn from you. Maybe together we could mend the divide between Zotts and humans. If anyone in this village would truly hear me out, it would be you. If no Zott would show you kindness, I wanted to be the first—to prove we're capable of compassion too."

Silence stretched until Lee's harsh laughter shattered it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He clutched his stomach. "You sound like you're in some play! No wonder a loser like you can't make friends with your own kind! A blasphemer wanting to befriend filth? Come on, guys. I'll see you tomorrow morning, you filthy outsider! I'm a man of my word!"

"Here, at dawn," Joseph confirmed, watching his retreating figure.

"Yeah, I got the memo!" Lee vanished with his friends in tow.

Only Joseph, Baro, and the guard remained under moonlight.

Joseph looked up at Baro's towering form. The expression was inhuman to most, but Joseph recognized the melancholy bordering on deep sadness, the defeated resignation.

He approached the tall child and looked up.

Crimson met amber once more.

"I'll be your friend," Joseph beamed.

"Thank you!" Baro's amber eyes glowed to match.

He opened his mouth, producing only a puff of air. After composing himself, he stuttered, "I think we've attracted enough attention here. I'm sure you have questions. Do you want to come to my house?"

"Can you read my mind? I was about to suggest the same thing!" Joseph patted his back with a reach.

He glanced at the spectating guard, eyes asking permission.

"Fine," came the low, simple response.

---

"It's simple, but please make yourself at home," Baro said, voice still hesitant.

Joseph stepped inside, his guard following. One room. A single bed with roughspun cloth over straw sat against the back wall. A small stone hearth with basic cooking utensils occupied one corner. No windows—only light from the open doorway. Plain wood walls, unadorned. A typical peasant dwelling, save for one thing: a peculiar sweet scent hung in the air, almost floral but with a metallic tang beneath.

"It's cozy," Joseph commented, crimson eyes scanning the space. He had picked up flowers resembling opium poppies from Earth on their way to the hut, setting them beside the bed. The guard noted it down as something he'd give to Rayah or Anne.

Baro fidgeted, tugging at his frayed tunic. He walked to a wooden chest and pulled out a small, intricately carved box—stark contrast to the bare surroundings. Opening it revealed a collection of polished stones, each a different colour. He handled them with reverent care.

"I collect them." His voice dropped to a whisper. "They make me feel calmer." A genuine smile crossed his face.

Definitely on the spectrum. No offer of food or drink, no attempt at small talk, just straight to the special interest. Plus living alone as a child...

"They're very pretty," Joseph said politely. "I'd like to know more about them."

Baro's amber eyes darted around, avoiding Joseph's gaze. He shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"The stones? Really? I can tell you their names. Bebe, the pink one, is my favourite!" His voice was higher than expected—almost feminine. He cleared his throat.

"Of course. I'd like that."

Joseph made himself comfortable on Baro's bedside.

As Baro named each rock and described their "personality," Joseph noted details. The bed looked strangely small for Baro's height. The sweet, flowery scent lingered while the metallic hint grew stronger. Like copper. Light scratches marked the wall beside the bed—some new, some old. Withered rose petals lay by the front door. Discoloration and spots peeked through Baro's leather tunic where they shouldn't be.

"So these rocks are friends of yours? You seem in good company. Why seek outside companionship?"

Baro hesitated, gripping the wooden box tighter.

"I'm not delusional. I know they're not real—they just comfort me sometimes. I know myself well enough to recognize I yearn for true friendship."

"What made you think I was the one? You said we were similar, but how?"

Joseph's eyes narrowed, cataloging each concerning detail.

Baro closed the box and sat cross-legged, arms tucked between his knees as he rocked gently. Looking up at Joseph, he spoke.

"The abuse you endured... How did you survive it?" He paused. "I think it's easier if I tell you everything. I trust you, oddly enough." He smiled.

"As you can see, I live alone. I don't work—I just exist. My uncle gives me enough lia weekly to survive, but only enough. Not because he cares—he hates me. He does it for his conscience."

"My parents died when I was very young. I don't remember why—I was still in the incubation stages. They say I was partly to blame. Our house burned down, and I was the only survivor. They called it a miracle, but others called it a curse."

"The elders said I was blessed by the ancestors. For as long as I remember, I've lived with a uniqueness. My presence, my entire existence, is insignificant. I walk the streets like a ghost. Teachers never pick me in class, no one approaches me—positive or negative. Like I never existed. The elders called this an 'arcane blessing,' said I might control it someday for hunting. This is how I stalked you unnoticed. But I never got used to it. It's a miracle you even noticed me. A blessing? This is nothing but a curse."

"To get even the smallest bit of attention, I have to go out of my way to put myself out there. I tried it once, and—" Baro's head lowered like he might vomit. Joseph moved to help, but Baro's head snapped up with a twitchy smile. "I'm okay. Don't worry."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I've been a spectator my whole life. I watched how people acted and understood I was different. But I still hoped my uniqueness would be something to bond over. I was wrong. The abuse I endured from other Zott children was insane—just like what they did to you. Because I was different. Weak. Weird. Cursed. Those rumors follow me still."

"No one noticed the abuse, no one spoke up for me. Even if I reported it, I'd be ignored. My existence is meaningless—so insignificant that even the flames in my youth didn't bother killing me."

"I tried befriending humans instead, but it was the same. I'd cry myself to sleep every night, feeling so worthless that not even my rocks could comfort me. But I kept trying."

"One day, though, my presence was noticed by a Zott man. I was unsure of his age. He took a liking to me and... took advantage. He wouldn't stop."

His chest hitched. Short, shallow breaths. A stuttery mess of sobs. He choked on his words.

His face twisted—grief, anger, shame—all tangled as his body trembled.

Joseph looked up and saw eyes red, more crimson than his own.

He was in agony.

No.

She was in agony.

"Baro... You're a girl, aren't you?"

No wonder she wanted to befriend humans. No wonder she dressed like a man. She was traumatized by her own people. At least humans couldn't assault her like that.

"Yes! I am! I'm a girl!" she cried. "When I saw you arrive, enduring all that abuse, you still smiled! Through everything, you smiled and moved on! Even when my people nearly killed you, you don't look sad or bothered! You don't even seem to hold grudges! You never cried! Even knowing you'll be sacrificed and executed, you pushed on! Eventually, even as an outsider, you won some people over! Please explain it to me! I thought we were similar, but the more I think about it, the farther apart we are! You're just so much better than me!"