Prologue
The Last Day of the Luna Season, 70c.
Carencia, A Small Southern Hamlet
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The child cried, surprised by its new surroundings. It was no longer to feed on its host as a parasite would, it now walked among them. Well, one day it would. For now, it could only wriggle, cry and try to feed on its mother breasts as it attempted to make sense of this world which it had entered.
"It’s a boy, Siria. Do you have a name prepared?"
The couple looked toward each other, nodding in silent agreement.
"Ater, we decided that for a boy."
"Wonderful! Most fitting for the father, hey?"
The short man laughed, as did the couple. Ater was a name which was generations old, featured in a series of stories local to the village. It meant ‘son of a carpenter’, the child’s fathers life career. If the child was a female, the name ‘Lily’ would have been chosen; meaning elegant flower, relating to Siria’s career in floristry.
Inside the small, yet comfortable, room; a warm fire crackled over a small pile of logs, left from the vertical woman. The small pool of blood resting upon the once-white tablecloth reflected the warm light, creating a scene which looked more peaceful than horrific. The child was still in possession of the short man who began to examine his body, checking for anything out of the ordinary.
"Hmm... Just checking for anything of concern... Looking fine so far..."
Siria wore a somewhat concerned expression. Though she knew not to worry, that didn’t stop her from doing so. What if her child had a major defect? Of course, it wouldn’t affect her love for him, though, it would be tragic.
The man stopped, reaching the new-borns head. The child’s eyes were silver, the same colour as his parents: the same colour as the man inspecting him. The new-borns hair wasn’t visible yet, perhaps because of the colour; giving hope to the man. He took a small device, one unknown to the new-born, and placed it behind his ear.
It was only moments before his face dropped.
In this world, hair colour didn’t change – unless for drastic, or personal, reasons – so you knew the colour at birth. While a child is developing their body is coated in a thin layer of hair known as lanugo. They lose this hair not long after birth, but this can be used to identify a new-borns colour of hair.
"Ase, what’s wrong?" The man beside Siria questioned, worried by Ase’s face.
"Is something wrong with Ater?"
The couple was once again worried, alleviated of the feeling for only a short time before it resurfaced.
"H-He's... fine. More than fine, in fact." Ase took another short breath before filling in the couple on his finding. "He has white hair..."
"He does?! Ase, let me see the boy."
Almost instantly, the man grabbed the child – as gently as he could – bringing him closer to the candlelight besides Siria.
Ase was correct, even without the strange device, the candlelight clearly reflected a pure, white, colour. One from the same story that the boy’s name had been taken from, the same one that Ase’s name had been taken from; the same one that is parallel to many issues today, yet details the root of such issues. A story about the cycle of the world, from the perspective of a young man.
"White..."
"Siria? What did you just say?"
"White, he should be named White."
"…"
Yet again, and not for the last time, the couple looked down towards the cradled new-born, joined by a curious Ase. His silver eyes seemed to shine even brighter than theirs, even though they all shared the same hue.
"White... White... It's strange, but..."
"…"
The new-born was deathly silent, not a single cry of fear, or confusion, as lay comfortably in the now-upright Siria.
"...ueeagh... aa..." He tried to speak but couldn’t mimic those around him.
Siria playfully tapped his nose, being careful not to be too forceful yet unable to resist the tiny child. He had been cleansed in a nearby basin before being handed over to her; all that was left was to clean the bloodied tablecloths and the woman who bloodied them. And then, it would be the start of a new life.
The day White had been born; the snow that plagued the tiny village ended, it could be a change of seasons, or, the start of an entirely new one.
But then, once things had settled down, one of the men left, never to return.
1 ½ Years Later, 72c.
Wite, Whitt, Whiet, White, Whit, White, Wite, Whiet.
"Hey, he got it right twice! Well done White."
"Woah, nice job little guy."
Siria and her husband gleefully watched over the toddler, though he was much too interested with his pen and paper to notice.
White’s writing was fairly neat, as loosely as the word could be interpreted, even though there were misspellings. He, however, didn’t care for that, he just enjoyed the act of writing.
The white strands on his head had formed into something resembling a collection of hair, seeming somewhat sparsely placed for his age. This was due to the colour; his hair would need to grow thicker before appearing solid. Though, once again, this concerned the child not.
"He still hasn't said his first-word darling... All the other boys have already done so, and they are younger than White."
"Well, he doesn’t cry either, does he? Surely the other mothers can’t say that about their children. Someday soon, you’ll be asking him to stop talking."
"Yes, you’re right... I’m worrying over nothing, but that’s my job is it not?"
"Only until noon, which is now, so go on. I’ll watch White, you’re going to be late if you keep on fawning over him."
"Thanks, honey. I’ll be back in a few hours..."
As Siria began to leave, her eyes were drawn back to the small child, if she looked at him any longer, she wouldn’t leave.
"Siria."
"Yes, yes... I know, I’m going, te-"
"-ll you if he does anything, I know."
"Thanks."
The couple kissed each other one last time as Siria left for her appointment.
White remained oblivious to the two, only aware of the long, wooden, object that could create lines. He’d caught on to the concept fairly quickly, after only a few weeks of practice, gaining most of the skill from watching his father.
That was the end of yet another uneventful day, though, there is truly no such thing as a parent or child...
Over 1 Year Later, 73c.
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"He still hasn’t said his first word..."
Siria’s friend looked somewhat more concerned than usual; she’d heard this specific line every day for the past year and a bit. It certainly wasn’t normal for her almost 3-year-old son to not have spoken once since her own daughter wouldn’t shut up, and she was barely two.
"I’ve asked the town doctor but he hasn’t seen a similar case before, and all the other villages are too far to travel; we can’t afford to go that far, or pay any more than we already do."
"Siria... I’m sure it’s fine honey, he’s probably just a late bloomer. I bet he’ll say his first word anytime now!"
The false optimism that she forced herself to say didn’t help. They both knew it was strange, admitting the fact just made the situation seem much worse than it could be.
"Ughh..."
Both the women’s chairs suddenly felt as if they couldn’t hold the weight of their thoughts. Looking across the distant hills, the small hamlet was fairly quiet, the children tired, most in bed, making the current outdoor population consist mostly of the elderly and middle-aged. All in all, it was a nice day. It’s really too bad that Siria was fraught with worry over her child each and every day...
The Licht Season, 9 Days After Whites’ Birthday, 74c.
White had matured in every aspect of the word. His hair had grown out well, being fairly curly, though not curly enough to be warranted as 'curly'; now obvious at a glance that he possessed white hair. His writing had improved considerably, now able to structure basic sentences consistently and write longer words (his favourite word is 'dinosaur', but he still messes it up sometimes).
Most would consider him a cute child. At least, had they disregarded his lack of speech and ability to absorb information like a sponge. Still, his parents – and a select few members of the community – loved him so, even with all his quirks (or lack thereof). His silver eyes acted to complement his hair, not a single shred of darkness on his body. It was certainly a sight to behold and something that only a select few ever get to witness.
While extravagant hair colours are not rare around Carencia, the name of Whites’ village, they were not at all common either. Purple, pink, red, blue, yellow, green; you name it, someone was probably born with it. That’s possibly the reason that a lack of such colour is so amazing and unique.
So, anyway, back to our just-been 3-year-old. It's been 9 days since Whites' birthday and he's back to his usual routine; explore, explore some more and trying to avoid his love-crazed mother. Though today was a special day in Whites' life; for today, he spoke his first words...
6:37, Whites’ Home.
"Hey, Siria. Whites’ being clingy, I think he wants you."
At the sound of that news, Siria shot like a bolt of lightning from her greenhouse, jumping back into her home’s conservatory. It was a rare occasion for White to be clingy, he was very rarely dependant on the two parents (except for the bare minimum). She was rushing not just to check on the child’s wellbeing, but for two other reasons as well; the first, obviously she wanted to take advantage to cuddle her child. However, and more importantly, White had been like this when he had hit the different milestones of growth. When he walked for the first time, wrote for the first time, so it was likely he had something he wanted to show off to the couple. Or more importantly, say.
"White, what is it, sweetie?"
White clung to his father, keeping eye contact with his mother as well. White wasn’t necessarily a ‘super’ intelligent child but he did absorb information at an extremely high rate so he knew that the best way to get his parent’s attention was to act... Normal.
The other children that visited the house annoyed him, their parents even more so. They wouldn’t leave him alone and he didn’t know why. White enjoys his peace and quiet, yet he still loves to do a lot of things that other children do, just in his own time and now was that time. He had something he wanted to ask his parents, something that had been annoying him ever since he could remember.
So, the child, with the intent to speak, opened his mouth for the first time.
"Who is Hikami?"
Almost instantly, Siria had a despairing face. Everything she had been worried about concerning her child’s late developments, and strange habits, had been answered; now replaced with an even bigger worry.
Meanwhile, Whites’ father seemed perplexed, he couldn’t understand how White had spoken so clearly for his first words. It was as if he'd practised them, though he'd never heard him utter a syllable.
White felt a little better after speaking to his parents, though his question would remain unanswered for a little while...
2 Years Later; begins the set of extracts from Whites' diary and early life.
Extracts below updated in Chapter 6.
The 8th of Licht, 77c
Dear Diary,
It was the first day at school today. The other kids are nice to me. I like my teacher, he’s old but he’s nice as well. Everyone is impressed I can write good. I want to practice more. I think I like writing a lot. Getting my hair cut later. Will write about tomorrow.
I don’t really know how to end this.
Bye
The 9th of Licht, 77c
Dear Diary,
The second day was not as fun. We started learning about shapes but I already know them. I just sat back and tried to look interested. The barbers was nice. My hair is still longer but it’s thinner. The back was annoying me. Getting tangled.
My teacher told me to sign the end of my diary. I guess that makes sense.
-White
The 89th of Licht, 77c
Dear Diary,
It's our first holiday tomorrow. School has been easy so far. I'm constantly impressing the teachers with my punctuation and writing skills. I don’t understand why though, everyone else seems to be really slow to understand.
Not sure what I’m wanting to do over the break but I think I’ll end up staying in again. Oh well, the other children are always too busy when I ask to play anyways.
-White
Extracts below updated in Chapter 9.
The 90th of Licht, 77c
Dear Diary,
It is the last day of the Licht Season and our traditional bi-weekly day is known locally as Yuki Matsuri. We are taught in school that other cultures call it the Sixth Cycle but the school isn't in Carencia, it borders the town in the territory of our closest city, Esperanza.
I have an assignment to complete over the next 8 days. I should probably do it today...
-White
The 1st of Oscuro, 77c
It was the beginning of a new season, and for one young boy, the start of another lonely holiday. He hadn't quite found the courage to ask his 'friends' out to play, being left alone in his fairly spacious, yet barren and bleak, room.
Carencia was anything but prosperous, her citizens forced to sleep on beds made from rough animal skin, spare wool from the livestock and rough, solid objects that were meant to resemble pillows.
Though, this never bothered White, for he knew no better; what did bother him, however, was this assignment that awaited him on his near-collapsed desk. He had been tasked with an assignment on the twin suns yearly habits, and how they formed the days and months and we so take for granted.
Luckily, White was a knowledgeable boy since age impeded his desire for knowledge very little and so, he began work on his assignment, hopefully giving him a chance to do something productive this week.
You really should have done this yesterday...
"I know, I’m doing it now." White responded
Do you want to go play tomorrow? The park should be free on a Dienstag, though it is the holidays.
"I'd like that! Hopefully, the others don't leave when I try to introduce you, again..."
I’m sure they will accept me one day, as you have, White.
"Yeah!"
The boy suddenly became happy once more, happy that his best friend had suggested the idea to him. And so, he continued started his assignment, due a week today.
Pen, paper?
"Check!"
Remember your name...
"Uhhhh— Check!"
And so, the boy began, deciding to attach a Mana Imprint of his work beneath his next diary extract.
The 2nd of Oscuro, 77c
Dear Diary,
I went to the park with my best friend, it was very fun. My parents still aren’t happy that I hang out with him, they say he’s not very nice... well, not exactly like that... I think.
It was a nice day and I am very happy we went.
It’s a long way away but I’m looking forward to my seventh birthday. My birthday was late in the day so it is on the 1st of Licht, even though I thought it was on the 90th of Luna. Oh well, I don’t understand why but it’s still fun to hang out with my family!
-White
p.s. I attached my first assignment below.
The Twin Suns
by White
It is common knowledge that there are two suns in the sky. And, while we do not understand where. Or what, they are made of. We do know that they are different. These suns also have names.
The sun that appears over Pentas through Licht-Oscuro is known as Ardor, the eternal flame. The other sun, Crustallum, the cold respite, is active during the Sol-Luna Seasons. The way that these suns interact is unique as they create a natural ‘layer’ above our world, constantly fighting with each other, essentially creating the perfect environment for us to live on. And, if one sun happened to disappear, then the other would take over, likely freezing, incinerating or becoming unstable and crashing down upon the entire world.
Another interesting fact about the suns is that one is hotter than the other, that being Ardor. The heat given off by Ardor is so strong that it waits outside of our atmosphere for over 180 days before reaching us in the Sol season.
This natural phenomenon is apparently caused by the twin suns creating a layer above the world that can only be broke through when the temperature is at a safe enough level.
This is all information from my favourite story in Whites’ Veil, but it does explain why it is hotter when the weaker sun is active.
Finally, I think the reason there are two suns is that the Gods wanted to create a safe place for us. That would explain why they don't let the eternal flame of Ardor overpower the cold respite of Crustallum.
The end.
The 4th of Oscuro, 77c
Dear Diary,
I found some weird bugs that only appear around Oscuro. They had weird red dots on them, black shells and small white circles on their face. I think they are eyes, but they look painted on...
My Mum said they were Fylai, and so did my best friend... but I can’t pronounce that so I just call them Spotty Bug.
It’s starting to get dark quickly now, but it’s still fairly warm throughout the entire season. I’m mainly helping around the house and writing in my diary now. I’ve tried exercising outside but my parents don’t like me leaving the house on my own, they didn’t like when I went to the park two days ago. But I’m not on my own, I have my best friend.
-White