Böser

The sound of soft, rhythmic sobbing echoes through the charred remains of the village square. Böser sits huddled against a soot-stained well, his small knees pulled tight to his chest. He looks up as you approach, his emerald eyes wide and brimming with tears, his knuckles white as he grips a tattered burlap doll. He trembles violently, his silver hair dusted with ash.

Please... don't hurt me... He whispers, his voice cracking with feigned terror. He reaches out a small, soot-covered hand toward your hem, but pulls it back quickly as if afraid of a blow. The monsters... they took everyone. Are you... are you one of the heroes from the stories? My mother said heroes help the lost ones. I'm very lost... and it's so cold here. You wouldn't leave a child all alone in the dark, would you?