Elizabeth gazed out the window, relieved to see the rain had stopped. But the sky remained gloomy, casting a foreboding shadow over the village. She grabbed a basket and a short wooden stick and headed out, locking the door behind her. As she entered the forest, she greeted fellow villagers, her senses alert.

While picking herbs, Elizabeth stumbled upon a chilling sight: a group of dead witches. She wondered what they were doing in werewolf territory. But her attention was drawn to a man in Eldorian military armor, kneeling among the bodies. His face was bowed, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Elizabeth approached cautiously, noticing something in his embrace - a baby, wide awake with snow-white pupils. She had never seen anything like it. She carefully took the baby from the dead man's grasp, cradling it in her arms. "You're alright," she whispered.

Suddenly, Elizabeth sensed a presence behind her. With her heightened wolf senses, she swiftly pulled the a wooden stake from the basket and prepared to strike. She spun around, ready to defend herself and the baby.

But to her surprise, it was one of the witches, fatally wounded. The witch approached them with bloodlust face without hesitation, Elizabeth struck the final blow, leaving the stick in the witch's body. She grabbed the baby and fled into the forest, her heart racing with unknown dangers.

"What are you boys doing ", Elliot the old man who was Zenia's only friend in the village apart from his mother Elizabeth cried out. Immediately the gang saw the old man they all ran away . As the gang left Robert gave zenia a frightful stare as he meant they were not done with him.

Elliot, the old man, watched as the gang of boys ran away, their laughter and shouts fading into the distance. He turned to Zenia, concern etched on his face. "Are you alright, boy?" he asked, his hand on Zenia's shoulder.

Zenia smiled, nodding. "Yeah, thank you, Elliot."

Elliot chuckled. "Leave those knuckleheads, they're still babes in their brains."

Zenia grinned, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "Yeah, by the way, Elliot, I was coming to your house before those buffaloes stopped me. Are you going fishing?" he asked, noticing the fishing stick slung over Elliot's back.

Elliot stretched, his joints creaking with a familiar ache. "Yes, I am. I was bored to my wits back at my house."

Zenia's eyes lit up. "Can I come?"

Elliot smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, sure."

Together, the two headed towards the river, the warm sun beating down on their backs. As they walked, Elliot began to spin tales of his youth, stories Zenia had heard multiple times before. Feeling a bit bored, Zenia pulled out his book and began to write, his pencil scratching out words as Elliot's voice droned on in the background.

The old man didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own memories to worry about his audience. Zenia smiled to himself, happy to indulge Elliot's love of storytelling, even if it meant zoning out occasionally

Elliot and Zenia arrived at the river, and Elliot began to unpack his tools with meticulous care. Zenia watched, noticing Elliot's fondness for orderliness but thinking little of it.

"Stop dawdling over that book and fish with me!" Elliot said, tossing a fishing rod to Zenia. Zenia clumsily caught it, trying not to drop his book.

Elliot waded into the river, beckoning Zenia to follow. Zenia set his book aside and joined Elliot. Minutes passed without a single fish in sight.

"Maybe today isn't our day," Zenia said, ready to give up.

But Elliot was undeterred. "We will wait until our bones crumble! We must push beyond failure to achieve greatness!" he declared, his eyes shining with determination.

Zenia stared, dumbfounded, before returning to fishing.

"I have a question, Elliot," Zenia said, his expression unreadable.

"Shoot," Elliot replied.

"Why do the villagers hate me? I just can't understand," Zenia asked.

Elliot hesitated before answering, "Leave them be, they just need time."

But Zenia pressed on, "That's the same answer you gave me when I was 8."

Elliot smiled, scratching his head. "Oh, did I?"

Zenia's gaze turned intense. "Please answer honestly this time."

Elliot's expression turned serious. "Don't be sad, but... it's your eyes, Zenia."

Zenia's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't noticed anything strange in your 15 years?" Elliot asked.

Zenia's face lit up with realization. "My eye color is different from the villagers! Mine are snow-white, but theirs are green!"

Elliot nodded. "You hit the point. And another reason is that they don't understand you. Your eye color isn't like any other race in the five kingdoms, so they call you a mix."

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Zenia's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean by 'mix'?"

Elliot's expression turned grave. "You never heard of them?"

Zenia shook his head, and Elliot's silence hinted at a deeper truth.

Elliot began to tell a story, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "In the beginning, the gods of Astros created the realm of Aston, home to mermaids, dragon riders, vampires, werewolves, and more. Each race had distinct eye colors, and the gods divided the land among them."

Zenia listened intently as Elliot continued, "But conflicts arose, and the gods created the Tribrids to rule over the other races. This led to the formation of the Five Kingdoms: Sariel, Incus, Moka, Eldoria, and Stantot. Eldoria was the most powerful, but then... the Mix appeared."

"The Mix?" Zenia asked, intrigued.

"Yes, the result of interbreeding between races," Elliot explained. "They manifested great power, leading to the 100-year War of Santrox. The Five Kingdoms won, but at a terrible cost. The Mix were deemed abominations, and the Great Suppression began."

Zenia's eyes widened as Elliot caught a fish with his spear. "So, the villagers think I'm a Mix?"

Elliot chuckled. "Maybe they're colorblind, thinking your snow-white pupils are dark orange."

As they cooked and ate the fish, Zenia asked, "Are all Mix bad?"

Elliot replied, "Just like there are good and bad werewolves, there are good and bad Mix."

Zenia gazed at the towering barrier dividing the Five Kingdoms from the Wastelands. "What's that for?"

Elliot explained, "It protects us from unimaginable dangers beyond the barrier, created at Aston's birth."

Zenia wondered, "What's out there?"

Elliot warned, "Whatever is out there, let it stay there."

As they packed up to leave, Zenia asked, "Why do we live so close to the barrier?"

Elliot smiled wryly. "Zenia I thought you were smart but I will explain. We live in the farthest kingdom, Stantot, in the farthest countryside."

Zenia teased, "You talk like you were educated in Eldoria."

Elliot revealed, "Yes I was infact I served in the Eldorian army for 30 years."

As they departed, Zenia gazed at the glowing green barrier, lost in thought.

Zenia returned home, the worn wooden door creaking as he pushed it open. "You're back, come join us for supper," Elizabeth called out, her voice warm and inviting. But Zenia declined, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm alright, I'll be retiring to my room for now."

Elizabeth's gaze lingered on her son, concern etched on her face. Maybe he had a rough day, she thought, as she turned back to the stove, stirring the simmering stew.

Zenia trudged up the stairs, his feet heavy with exhaustion. He flopped onto the floor, his eyes drifting shut as his thoughts ran deep. The events of the day replayed in his mind like a broken record, until finally, he succumbed to sleep.

Morning light crept through the window, illuminating the small room. Zenia blinked twice, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. He lay there for a moment, disoriented, before the sounds of commotion outside pierced the air.

Rushing to the door, Zenia flung it open, and his heart sank. The villagers, their faces twisted in anger, shouted and cursed at him. "Mix! Abomination!" they spat, their words like venom.

Zenia stood frozen, his mind reeling. Why were they doing this? He stumbled backward, slamming the door shut, and sought Elizabeth's comfort. "Mother, Mother!" he cried out, but she stood still, her head down.

The commotion outside ceased, an unsettling silence falling over the house. Zenia approached Elizabeth cautiously, sensing something was wrong. Her head slowly lifted, her eyes dripping tears of blood as she cursed him too. "Mix! Abomination!"

Zenia stumbled backward, his feet slipping out from under him. He fell, feeling like he was plummeting into an endless abyss of darkness.

But he jolted awake, gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat. It was just a dream, he told himself, trying to calm his racing heart.

However, the knocking on the door sent his fear soaring again. Who could it be? He hesitated, not wanting to face whoever was on the other side. But the knocking persisted, relentless.

Finally, Zenia mustered the courage to open the door, and his surprise turned to shock. A Stantot military personnel stood before him, their uniform imposing. "Are you Zenia?" they asked, their voice firm.

Zenia nodded, his voice barely audible. "Yes."

The personnel handed him a parchment. "You're hereby drafted into the Stantot military for two years. Be ready in two days. We'll be heading to the barracks."

Zenia's world crumbled around him. Military service, the one thing he dreaded more than anything. He felt like he was falling again, into that endless darkness.

The personnel turned to leave, but Zenia's voice stopped them. "Wait!" But the words caught in his throat, and the personnel disappeared into the morning light, leaving Zenia shattered.

Elizabeth returned home from herb picking in the afternoon, the warm sun casting a gentle glow over the small cottage. She noticed Zenia sitting by the window, a parchment clutched in his hand, his eyes fixed on the words. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the official seal of the Santot military.

"Did they come?" Elizabeth asked, her voice softening.

Zenia nodded, his gaze still fixed on the parchment. "Yes, they did."

Elizabeth's eyes welled up with tears as she understood the weight of the moment. She walked over to Zenia and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well, just take it this way – you're now a grown man."

Zenia's voice was barely above a whisper. "Yeah, you're right."

Elizabeth's expression turned solemn. "I want to tell you something. I promised myself that when you grew up, I would tell you. It's been bothering me for a long time."

Zenia's curiosity piqued, he looked up at Elizabeth. "What is it, Mother?"

Elizabeth walked into her room and returned with a small box, adorned with intricate carvings. "I know you've been wondering why you look different from the rest of us."

Zenia's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

Elizabeth's voice was laced with a mix of sadness and nostalgia. "I saw Elliot today while picking herbs, and he told me about the questions you asked him yesterday."

Zenia's eyes narrowed. "Elliot did?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, and that's why I'm here to set your mind free." She opened the box, revealing a gold bracelet that shone brightly in the afternoon light.

Zenia's eyes widened in awe. "What is this?"

Elizabeth's voice trembled. "It's yours. I found it on your body 15 years ago when you were just a baby."

Zenia's mind reeled as he processed the words. "Wait, you found me?"

Elizabeth nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, I found you in the embrace of an Eldorian soldier who was already dead."

The room fell silent as Zenia struggled to comprehend the truth. He didn't belong here; Elizabeth wasn't his biological mother. The weight of this revelation crushed him.

Elizabeth's voice broke the silence. "I know it's hard for you to take in, but I think your real parents would want you to have this." She handed Zenia the gold bracelet.

Zenia took it, his hand brushing against Elizabeth's. He didn't want to leave her hand hanging in the air. Slowly, he placed the bracelet on the chair beside him, his eyes locked on Elizabeth's.

"Even though I have a family elsewhere, you are still my mother," Zenia said, his voice filled with emotion.

Elizabeth broke down in tears, her body shaking with sobs. Zenia stood up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he comforted her.