Growing up, my father always told me about the mysterious Alba. We lived in Chanda. More specifically, Aine, Chanda. Aine was an island that was nearly entirely sand. There were many other islands connecting to the main one, but you had to sail to others.
Alba was a land of snow and ice. That was all anyone knew of it. A myth had spread that once upon a time, Alba and Chanda were one kingdom. Most people believed this couldn’t possibly be true. We lived in the scorching heat, and Alba had temperatures as low as it could get.
My father and I lived in a small hut on the outskirts of town. I was often made fun of by other kids for my abnormally blonde hair. Of course, there were other children with hair even blonder than mine. But no one else had both tanned skin and blonde hair. And that made me different. It became apparent to me that people didn’t like different. So, I avoided everyone.
Sometimes I would wander through the village and see all the dark-haired, dark-skinned people and wonder why I wasn’t like them. Other times I would see the people with skin as pale as the inside of a coconut and chalk white hair and wonder what had made me different from them too. My father would always just tell me I was special. I couldn’t understand how being an outcast made me special.
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I opened the box. Inside was a fur coat, a pair of fur pants, and some fur boots. He really wanted me to go to Alba, didn’t he? I swallowed. Under the items was a map. I recognized one half of the map as Chanda. The other half must be…Alba. The map was clearly old and worn. Had someone once used this?
Well color me intrigued!