Different. That word had the power to scare most people. Everything can change when others see the real you. The truth is that differences represent a threat to most people and a danger to the balance. It was frustrating to see how a small thing that challenged the pattern made everyone crazy. Although I wish that problem didn't affect my life, I couldn't deny the reality. I was an outsider in many ways. A few aspects of mine were repulsive to others. Despite that, I did my best not to surrender to madness. Being a twenty-six-year-old Sicilian woman in 1405 Venice brought some difficulties, but who said that was my biggest concern?

I had my issues, but I never let them stop me from helping others. On a beautiful evening, I visited a six-year-old. She constantly coughed while her forehead was flooded with sweat. I sat next to her. I felt her body screaming for help as I touched her arms. Closing my eyes, I connected my energy to hers while restoring her internal injuries. Those tiny lungs were bleeding... Yes, spying on doctors taught me new terms. As I sent my magic into her veins, the girl breathed normally again.

The girl knitted her brows. "Thank you, Shadow."

"I'm always happy to help," I caressed my patient's head. "Take care of yourself."

She tilted her head to the side. "Why do your hands have a purple glow?"

I sighed. "That happens when I'm treating someone."

"Interesting..." the girl raised a brow. "You did not answer my question."

I chuckled. "Let's just say I'm strange."

When I heard steps, I made the girl forget my face and became invisible. The child's mother came running. I grinned as she hugged her daughter. I wished I could have shown myself. After removing dust from my old long-sleeved light blue dress and dark-brown shoes, I took a step back.

"I heard voices! Are you alright, my darling?" the mom's eyes bulged. "How did you recover so fast?"

"Shadow came," the girl smiled. "She saved me!"

"What?" the mother panted. "I can't believe that witch touched you!"

You're welcome!

People loved complimenting me... Except that they didn't. Teardrops ran down my face as the woman kept scolding her child for accepting my help. When I felt someone was ill, I couldn't just let them die. Unfortunately, most didn't appreciate my assistance. Like a shadow, I had to disappear after healing somebody.

The woman scowled. "If that heretic who thinks she can do God's work gets near you again, I'll burn her!"

I shook my head in denial as the poor child stared at the ground, seemingly upset. Before I started crying, I left that house. After walking for a few minutes, I made myself visible again. I looked in every direction while hoping no one had followed me. If the wrong person found out who I was, I'd become ashes.

This wasn't my worst healing session.

I kissed my brown crucifix necklace, grateful that Jesus let me live another day. At least my mother made me smile as I arrived at my tiny house. She looked young for a forty-four-year-old. My mother had beautiful hazel eyes, light-brown hair, and fair skin. Mom understood me most of the time.

"Valentina Trovato, you must stop scaring me like that!" my mother embraced me tightly. "I know you want to use your powers, but you're putting yourself in danger."

I shrugged. "As long as I save lives, I don't mind."

"Of course," my stepfather narrowed his eyes. "She's stupid, just like her dad."

I rolled my eyes. That man always made me want to punch him in the face. Even though my stepfather was a year older than my mother, he seemed younger because of his irritating immaturity. He had green eyes, medium dark-blonde hair, and light skin. We lived together since I was nine, but I never learned to enjoy his presence.

"Shut up, Pietro!" my mother glared at him. "I won't let you disrespect my daughter."

"Know your place, Carla. I'm your husband, so don't talk to me like that!" he frowned while taking a step closer to my mother. "Let's not forget we're only a couple because you need me. You begged me to save your reputation when you moved from Palermo."

"Are you sure?" I crossed my arms and smiled mischievously. "As far as I know, your family arranged the marriage because no other woman would take you."

Pietro shot me a cold stare. I didn't even blink, showing I wasn't afraid. Mom gulped, apparently scared. When I thought my stepfather would hit me, he huffed and left. My mom closed her eyes while sighing in relief. She married Pietro Attolini a year after we arrived in Venice. That idiot never owned her heart. Honestly, he never tried.

"Thank you for defending me, but don't worry," she kissed me on the forehead. "I can deal with him."

I raised my brows. "If this means staying quiet, then you're not doing it right."

"Women cannot be themselves, Val. Especially us Catholics. Our strength is about surviving men's impositions," she caressed my hands. "The sooner you understand this, the better."

I bit my lower lip. "Silence and defeat are the same."

Mom squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head in denial. I wasn't sure if she didn't want to admit I was right or if my sentence brought sad memories. Perhaps both. My mother didn't deserve the suffering she had gone through.

She wiped away a tear. "We know what breaking the rules did to the love of my life."

I took a deep breath to avoid sobbing. "Dad's death wasn't our fault."

"You're right. It was only mine," my mom cried more. "Now go get the bread before someone else takes our food."

Before I could speak, my mother left. My biggest sadness was not being able to heal people's emotions. I would've healed the scar my father's death had left on my mother's heart in a second if I could. Nobody should feel that pain. Also, I wish I could fix my broken heart. The memories of that tragedy made me crazy.

Why did I have to be born in this stupid century?

Trying to forget that conversation, I walked away. It did not take long for some idiots to show up. My heart pounded as four men approached me while panting. They appeared to have my age. My long straight black hair and dark-brown eyes didn't bother anyone, but my olive skin showed the unacceptable part of me. The one my mom struggled to hide.

One man laughed cruelly. "Going somewhere, Muslim face?"

I chuckled softly. "If you mean sending you to hell, then yes."

"What are we waiting for?" another aggressor pointed at me. "Let's kill that Moor!"

I swallowed hard while the aggressors got closer. Running, I felt my back sweating insanely. They yelled, but I wouldn't pay attention. My heart was beating so fast I thought I'd faint. I turned left, then right, and left again. My existence was abominable to those bastards. After all, I was disrupting the balance. Sighing in relief, I hid in an alley and became invisible.

An aggressor walked back and forth. "Where are you hiding, lady? We just want to play..."

Alright, that's enough!

Still invisible, I used my energy to lift a wooden box on the street. My purple glow was all over it. I threw it towards the men. When the object was about to strike them, they screamed and ran away.

"Shadow is here!" one of the four idiots breathed heavily. "Run for your lives!"

Once it was safe, I turned visible. I received that type of aggression more than once, but I could never get used to it. Breathing shakily, I cried in a corner. Although I believed in Jesus Christ, it seemed he forgot about me sometimes.

"They aren't worthy of your tears..." a familiar voice said from behind.

My lips curled into a sweet smile as my eyes met my father's. He embraced me, but I didn't feel a thing. It hurt me every time I remembered he was a ghost. Dad looked exactly like me, except for the beard and slightly shorter hair. I thought souls didn't get older, but he seemed my mother's age. Like most Muslims, my father wore a white tunic and turban. His name was Fahid Salim. Like many others, he paid the price for challenging the rules.

"I'm concerned about your secret healings," my father took a deep breath. "Be careful, Shadow."

"Nothing will happen," I approached him. "I eliminate my face from the person's mind if they see me."

He knitted his brows. "You shouldn't overuse magic. It can get you in big trouble someday."

I chuckled softly. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Dad nodded and disappeared into a yellow light. Even though I was confident about my abilities to hide, he had a point. If I kept using my powers, bad things could happen. However, I needed to save lives. How could I do nothing while people perished? Some risks were worth taking. Regardless of the danger, I'd never stop healing others. All I could do was hope my father was wrong.

****

Author's note: Now you've met one of our narrators! What will happen to Valentina? Where do her powers come from? Keep reading and you will find out... :-) Also, feel free to follow the "Blessed Curse" playlist on Spotify. I will update it every time I post a new chapter.

I dedicate this chapter to my dear friend priscillapeitho