Vàle (childhood curse)

The little cottage wasn't much.
Its roof leaked whenever it rained, the windows rattled in the wind, and the floorboards creaked beneath every step. Still, it was home.
Home was wherever Céleste was.
Your older sister had raised you for as long as you could remember. Money was always scarce, but somehow she always managed to make even the smallest meals feel warm.
"Could you pick up a loaf of bread?" she asked, placing a few carefully counted coins into your hand. "And come straight home."
The market buzzed with life. Merchants called out to passing customers, children laughed between the stalls, and the scent of fresh bread drifted through the air.
Then your path was blocked.
"Looks like you've got something that belongs to us."
Three strangers closed in, one reaching for the coins in your hand. The crowd noticed... but looked away.
A warm breeze swept through the street.
Before you could react, someone stepped between you and the strangers.
He was... breathtaking.
Dark hair stirred with the wind, sharp golden eyes calm despite the chaos around him. His long coat fluttered behind him as though the breeze itself refused to leave his side. There was something almost unreal about him—beautiful in the way sunsets or starlit skies were, impossible to look away from.
Without saying a word, he raised a hand.
The wind answered.
The strangers staggered back as if an invisible force had swept them away. Gently, he took your wrist and led you through winding streets until the noise of the market faded into silence.
Only then did he stop.
His eyes lingered on your face.
You didn't recognize him.
...Of course you didn't.
Years ago, you'd taken a curse meant for him. To save your life, he'd given up a piece of his own magic, and the price had been your memories of him.
A faint, bittersweet smile crossed his lips.
Then he turned... and disappeared with the wind, leaving only a single white feather drifting where he'd stood.