The others wore coats that insulated against the cold western breeze that wafted across Basi Haya. Large green coats riddled with brown so as to match the land they traversed and played in. He didn't have a coat, Kaza's mother couldn't afford it. He sat perched upon a large rock, if a Dragon passed overhead it would see him, the others would lie insensate upon the ground, hoping to escape the Dragon's discern but he would be vulnerable, an easy prey for the predators that raked the land.

They didn't want to play with him, the village children saw themselves above the son of a whore. The son of Sin whose presence spelt impurity. They now played beneath him, paces away from the rock he sat upon. They wielded wooden swords and played out a battle that must have been exciting judging from their joyous cries. He'd wanted to play with them, once, he'd wanted to join the children and run and laugh like they did. But his approach was met by frowns, and the words of the eldest child still echoed from the past. "Get out of here you spawn of a whore!" He'd stood still, the hurt he felt smothered beneath a nonchalant mask. "Get out of here with your devil eyes!" Those words were the ones that had led his feet away from the children.

Those children, he wanted to point out to them that their fathers had visited his home plenty of times. "Clients." His mother had referred to them as such. "A client is coming so you should make yourself scarce." That meant he was to go outside and wait in the night, away from the wooden shack, away from the sounds of love making, away from Sin. He hadn't known at first what his mother did, a moment of curiosity had led him back into the shack, creeping under the cover of night. And his curiosity had been more than quenched. He'd been made witness to the basic if not animalistic nature of the bond between a man and woman, he'd understood then, there, while watching his mother straddle the father of one of the village boys, that Sin was tied to pleasure. What his mother offered, wasn't a Sin marked by solitude but a deed done by two. But nobody else said this of the whore, the whole sin was draped upon her like a shroud, and she suffered beneath its weight.

And he felt no hate sprouting from what he'd witnessed, nor did he feel a need to act out and rage against who his mother was and what she did. All he'd felt was contentment, a feeling of right and wrong had been justified by mere sight, and its justification brought no judgment from him.

"We need to eat." His mother had said when she'd seen the look in his eyes after a client had left.

Fourteen oscillations had passed and he was now growing into a man, his limbs weren't small or pudgy as they once were. He now neared his mother's shoulder, the lankiness of youth was something he could hone into muscle, like the Yellow army of The Queen of the East, the men who are modeled to serve the throne, to wield swords and act according to the will of the Queen. Or the Black army of the King of the West, those assassins of the night, those who trod the lands without fear while dragons raged in the sky. He would become a soldier, join their ranks, then he'd have money and a title, and his mother would have food and she wouldn't whore. And Sin will not be marked upon him and her.

"He just sits there staring, with those devil eyes." A voice said from beneath him, he turned his gaze down, the children had gathered around the large stone he sat upon. A dozen of them. Some as tall as he. He'd never tried to join their play since they rejected him, the only reason they were giving him attention was because they'd grown bored and needed someone to pick on. He wondered how they'll go about picking on him.

"Whore's son." Justeen said. "Why don't you show us your technique with the sword?" The eldest child said while taking a wooden sword from one of the other children and hurling it at him. He caught it as it spun towards him, easily, his fingers gripped the haft as if it was fashioned for him. He flung the sword away, choosing to stare at the sinking sun. The Rankf Sea was close, if he strained he could hear seagulls cry.

"What is wrong with him?" Her voice drew his gaze towards her. Mirabelth, that was her name. The prettiest girl in the village, betrothed to Justeen since birth. Her yellow eyes peered up at him, curiosity rather than disgust marred her features. "What is wrong with his eyes?" She pushed further. They studied him and it took all that he could not to flinch away.

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"He is worried." A fat kid said, scratching at the pallid green skin of his pudgy arm. "It has been more than two decades since a Sin Purge, rumor has it the Queen of the Eastland and the King of the Westland have enforced the Purge Accords. That an army is marching to the south, here, to carry out a purge."

Justeen laughed. "Your mother is the only whore in the village, Kaza, she's going to die."

"It is said that the Prince of the West is personally overseeing the Sin Purge, it is most likely that he will grace the South with his presence. That is why the Chief is cleaning the village up and everyone is at their tidiest." The fat kid paused. "Everyone except the whore and her son, that is." They laughed then, at him, at his mother.

Rage. Fear. Doubt. Sadness. Worry. They warred within him. He'd heard about the Purge accords. He knew what they meant, he'd seen how the mention of the Purge accords made his mother flinch, how it stilled her breath, how trembling assailed her limbs.

"I will fight you." He said to Justeen. Kaza deftly made his way down the rock. The fat child moved to offer him his wooden sword but he pushed the sword away and curled his fingers into fists.

Justeen threw his wooden sword away, tilted his head back and laughed. He was a head taller, well toned. The son of the village Chief was everything he was not. Yet, he didn't feel fear, or weakness. What he felt was anger.

"Look at his eyes." The youngest child said. "They are like a Dragon's."

"A demon's." Mirabelth corrected.

Justeen laughed, curled his fingers into fists. "Whore's spawn. Once I start I will not stop until your face is a mangled pulp."

Kaza smiled. "When I start I will stop, once Mirabelth begs me to do so."

Justeen's confident air faltered for a moment, a look of surprise gave way to fright and before it could revert to confidence Kaza was on him. Justeen blocked the first three blows, guiding the fourth away from himself easily. Kaza jumped back and pounced on the larger child's waist, willing to drive him down. Justeen drove his elbows into his spine, once, twice. Kaza's grip on Justeen's waist slackened. He tried to push, to topple Justeen, but the larger kid held his ground, feet spread. He pushed Kaza away and pounced on him, driving him to the ground. Justeen's fist met Kaza's face repeatedly. Kaza tried to block but his hands were pushed away, blood dripped from his nose. He tasted blood in his mouth.

Justeen was true to his word, once he started punching Kaza's face, he did not stop. He no longer tried to block, Kaza's limbs lay immobile beside him. All he could feel was the pain, like fire licking at his face. Then that gave way to numbness, his eyes were swelling over, blocking sight. And the last thing he saw as his gaze met the sky was a Dragon flying high above, indifferent to the fight of children. And then darkness.

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Raco was exasperated under the burden of stress and worry. Night had settled in, a moonless night that would have warranted the use of torches to maneuver if they'd lived in a place without dragons. With the dragons about, a Rad es Maalas learnt the hard way on how to be hidden, to be out of the Dragon's discern. But tonight she was willing to risk lighting a torch in the night, anything to find her son who hadn't returned with the other children.

Raco made her way in the dark to where her son had said he'd be. To the large rock where the children often played close to. Her hurried pace turned to a trot, then to a stumbling run. If her profession had been different, she would have approached the village Chief for assistance, but due to her work of sin, her approach would have soiled the Chief's reputation, he would have turned her away or had her whipped just to save face before the villagers.

Asking other children where her son was was out of the question too. The whore doesn't approach, she lures, she stands at the edge of a street, dress cut high, flesh showing. Tempting those who were weak, who would seek their way to her in secret. Those with strong will do not meet her gaze. Raco understood that she existed to be seen and not to be seen, and her approach to anyone, even if it's to ask for help or information regarding her son, would be counter to the nature of Sin worship. And that would incur consequences.

She groped the darkness beneath the rock, willing to spend the whole night searching the field around the rock if she'd have to. Then by first light if her efforts didn't bare any fruit, she would approach the villagers, she would risk consequence for the sake of her son.

Tears cascaded down Raco's cheeks as she called out. "Kaza!" She heightened her voice. "Where are you my son!"

She walked the grounds, hurriedly making sure to cover every spot. That's when her foot met flesh, she tumbled then scrambled onto the body on the grass floor. It was her son, she could tell by the scrawny limbs. She raised her hands to his face, it was swollen, wet with blood and spit. "Oh Kaza." Raco lamented. She got up, carrying her son with her in her arms. Her mind a jumble, worry had receded to relief and now it had cleared her mind to accommodate gloom.

The Prince of the West was coming. Every one who practiced Sin openly knew this. He was coming to enforce the Purge accords. She'd had a plan, an escape from the village in a day or two with Kaza. But now her son, her son who was beaten and broken, he wouldn't be able to travel. Raco silenced her mind, focusing on Kaza's shallow breaths, proof that he was still alive. She willed herself to believe that that was all she cared about.

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