"My people all are." He rests his chin in his hands, looking pensive. "A few generations ago, we lived in an island complex, much more tribal than we are in the City. One of the rival clans found a way to exile our ancestors, and until the curse is broken, none of us can set foot there without dying."
He smiles a little sheepishly. "And if you don't believe in magic, that'll sound like superstitious crap."