The air was heavy, but what else was new? Today was Seven’s tenth birthday, a fact that had been seemingly overlooked by everyone but himself. Waking up to the sounds of wind chimes was not one and the same with the way he’d dreamt up.

Thus he laid still, fist clenched around the seam of his pillow, depression’s scent looming. This was the moment that the child had the compelling thought that would birth a world owning fate worse than his own. If mother was here, would she remember?

But it didn’t really matter. Seven didn’t even care, if he was being honest with himself. He was using this as an excuse to reopen scars that had never quite healed.

Seven crawled out of bed and got dressed before sneaking his way out of his bedroom and down the hallways. From his window, he’d spotted two children towards the market that were playing with a ball. Seven was typically a rather shy child, but today was his day. He waved at the children with a pathetic smile as he leaned over the window sill.

The smaller of the two waved back with a joyous smile stretching from cheek to cheek, a twinkle in their eye. This filled Seven with an interesting, unfamiliar feeling. It forced Seven’s lips into submission, growing the smile into something to be proud of. It was slain by the other child when Seven spotted the look of horror upon his face. He grabbed the hand of the smaller child and pulled him away, muttering words Seven couldn’t make out.

Seven was used to this sort of thing, but that never made it easier. In these lands, it was considered a curse - a sin - to bare white hair, something from a very popular series of folk-tales. He’d grown too tired to care covering it on his own birthday. Venturing onwards, Seven carefully snuck into his father’s study, expecting to have a morning conversation. To his dismay, Seven’s father was missing. What was not missing was the wholesome warmth of the flame from the fireplace. How odd.

I must’ve just missed him, Seven thought to himself. Well, I shan’t waste the warmth. The boy sprawled out on a soft mat in front of the fire and watched as the wood crackled and the flames danced. A moment ahead he’d fall back into a peaceful slumber. Something about warmth defined home.