If you saw a boy running down the streets in broad daylight chased by a man in an orange coat so angry you could see his wrath pour out of him, you might have been inclined to help the boy. Perhaps take the shaking child aside and gently ask what was wrong. There were many people on Airethvih Street that day, so much so that even the road was crowded. At least half stepped forward to help him and do the aforementioned, but as soon as they got close they backed away.

He had the horns.

The boy ran into an alleyway only to realize it was a dead end. The man with an orange coat followed him, foaming at the mouth.

“You monster” The man seethed stepping closer, “You horrid unnatural beast.”

The boy swallowed dryly and backed away, hitting the wall behind him hard. His eyes were wide and shaking violently in their sockets, both men's dilated pupils stared each other down. There was an ear-deafening moment of silence before the boy spoke.

“How? My people have never done anything to be called this, we should have rights to practice our magic as you do yours”

“Liar!” The man spat, spittle coating the terrified boy's face, “You have. Your people are evil scum to this earth you all deserve to burn where your cursed dark magic came from for practicing your godless sacrifices and rituals”

“Do you even know what dark magic is? It is an energy formed from misery, discord, pain and feelings of loss. We practice it so we do not hurt others with these emotions, our people have different beliefs yes, but we are just as human as you”

“Shut up! You are not human, you have the horns, you take your own blood to use for monstrous sacrifices that will destroy the world, you practice your barbaric rituals, you are not like me therefore you are not human.”

A couple minutes later the man in a reddish coat walked out, the boy with the horns did not.