Two years later…
Lucian was a bit smaller and thinner than the kids his age, but that didn't stop him from being happy and running around the town with a smile on his face.
'Where do you come from Voice?' Lucian asked the same question every day. It appeared out of nowhere one day and had been with him since. 'If you tell me, I'll be your best friend.'
'Friends are useless, just like you,' Voice replied in the usual annoyed tone.
'If you keep being so mean, I'll start being mean to you too.' Lucian searched the street for his little wife, wondering what she looked like.
People with light hair had a weaker constitution. Women like his mother had it easier due to their beauty being valued. Men, however, were left to their own devices. Despite this prejudice, Lucian's mother still chose his father and gave birth to a son that had the same color of hair as him.
Lucian was waiting for a day when a little wife would fall from the skies and play with him; someone who would accept him even though his head was 'full of hay'. He wasn't picky and didn't mind if she had some hay on her head too. She just needed to be brave enough to want to be with him.
The street became a bit chaotic, and Lucian had to do some wiggles here and there to get past the people that were screaming in fear. He was still small, so it wasn't that hard.
He eventually reached a small clearing between a few legs and saw the cause. A shackled was currently being dragged through the town square by the guards. It was so strong that not even heavy chains could hold it down.
It was a beast in human form, a woman with the strength of twenty men. She looked fragile and thin, yet her eyes were that of a wolf. Golden like Lucian's but more feral. Her wrists were bleeding, but she didn't seem to care as she tried to break free.
"Illegal slave market?" a citizen asked. Lucian turned his attention to the conversation, listening to their words. "Oh, that's horrible... Did they manage to capture all the slave traders and save all the slaves?"
"All thanks to her," the man nodded towards the shackled woman being dragged away and then lowered his voice to a whisper. "She went berserk and killed the buyers, then broke out and killed the sellers. It was a bloodbath, and there's no doubt she'll be executed."
People believed Shackleds were living embodiments of the gods' fury. Legends said that long ago, humans made a deal with the gods for power but broke their promise. Now, the gods were collecting their debt by taking over the bodies of the dead. Those "corpses" became known as shackleds.
Some saw them as monsters, others as heroes, but everyone agreed they were uncontrollable. The only way to deal with them was to execute them.
Lucian hid behind a building, wondering if he could pick up something that would earn him a coin or two.
His mother was getting better thanks to the medicine, but his father didn't have enough money to buy more. He didn't mean to catch the shackled's attention. "..."
He could feel the eyes of the woman slave on him, watching him intently. Then she talked, her voice low, almost sounding like a growl, "...Thank...you..."
"Go to hell, you monster!" A guard took the advantage to pierce her chest, making her cough up blood.
"...Gah!...You...human scum...I'll...kill you...all...I...will...haunt...your dreams… until… the end… of time..." The woman rasped and then started laughing like a lunatic until her last breath.
'Don't close your eyes, Lucian,' the little boy heard, forcing his eyes wide open and his body to remain frozen in place. 'Toughen up, or you will be the next one to die!'
Lucian quickly switched his attention to what he came here for, and it wasn't to witness people dying. The havoc the shackled woman caused left a lot of mess in her wake, and where there was a mess, there was bound to be some broken things that could be revived back to life.
"Can I have this, mister?" Lucian asked, picking up a broken lantern, and showing it to the owner of a stand, who was trying to clean his goods.
"Go away," the man said, annoyingly snatching the broken lantern away from Lucian, "I don't need beggars near my stand."
"I'm not a beggar," Lucian said, "I'm a helper, and I'm trying to help you get rid of the junk. The sooner you clear your stand, the sooner you can start selling again. See, I'm not a beggar."
The man's eyes widened, and he raised his head to look at Lucian, "You are a smart brat, huh? If I catch you stealing any of my things, I'll call the guards! You hear me?"
Lucian nodded eagerly, "Yes, sir!" he said and began to clean and organize the man's goods.
A good deed after a disaster was like a sign from God. People's hearts were moved by the smallest act of kindness, and soon enough, Lucian found himself with a bag full of goods that no one else needed or wanted. The Little Boy walked back home with an empty stomach, but a full heart.
"Dad, my good deed got rewarded again," Lucian announced, dropping the bag on the table, "Dad?"
He opened the door to the workshop, his heart stopping when he saw the collapsed man on the floor, "Dad!" he shouted and ran towards his father.
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One year later…
Lucian had his chin plopped on his hand, staring at the empty cart he used to sell his goods at, but not really seeing it. He had started a mobile pawn shop of sorts and had sold out all his items by the time the lunch hour came around.
One would think that a successful day was enough to lift his mood, but not for the boy who was still mourning his parents' death.
It's been a year. He knew the day would come when they would pass, and that miracles didn't happen twice, especially for people with a head full of hay.
He didn't know why he had been spared while the ones he loved the most were taken from him.
The sickness didn't hit him yet, but he was aware that it would eventually get him as well, weakening him and slowly consuming his life.
He tried to busy himself with the thought of the future, about how to earn enough money to buy himself medicine in case he got sick, when a loud slam startled him from his day dreaming.
A stack of papers wobbled and toppled ontop his mobile cart's counter. Then a voice, cute but commanding, followed right after the thundering appearance.
"These are the most exquisite paintings in the entire city. I will give you the honor of selling them, and you will get fifteen percent of the profit."