Page 6 of A Curse So Vile

The blond-haired man looked at her strangely, but said nothing, continuing on to the red sands of port Bloodmoor. The sight was jarring, more ghastly than many had the stomach to bear, but she was of the Den and the Dusklands held little fear for her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He looked over at her, an uneasy expression on his handsome face. “The name’s Cole. Who might you be?”

“Brenna,” she replied. “Now, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to my sister.”

Of course he is. He’s no witch, obviously. His sister probably has the means to break the curse, and then I’ll be on my way.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the red sand gave way to brown earth. Stoic men and women labored, tending to the tiny shacks and cottages just off the path. None of them smiled or donned kind faces. They were Dusklanders through and through.

“I must say, you look different from what I’d expected,” Cole said.

Brenna arched a brow and chuckled. She could easily have said the same, but chose not to.

“How much longer will we be walking?” she asked.

“A ways. We’ll make it before midday. You’re welcome to stay the evening.”

Brenna didn’t want to stay any longer than she had to. She was perhaps three days north of the Den, and she couldn’t stand many more days apart from Icaries, but if the witch’s work took long into the evening, she wouldn’t have a choice.

They came to a fork in the road. The left fork led to the Blackened Forest, a likely spot for a witch to dwell. The right fork led to an obscure village she had never heard of—Ashwood. It wasn’t unusual for villages to pop up out of nowhere in the Dusklands, then vanish with the night, succumbing to one monstrosity or another.

Cole chose the right fork, which gave her relief because witches weren’t the only things that lingered in the dark forest. Tales of a forbidden sanctuary had reached the Den, a vile place cleverly disguised as a haven.

“Are you hungry?” Cole asked.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of food. It had been almost a day since she had last eaten.

"A bit."

He reached inside his satchel and pulled out a heel of bread, handing it to her.

It was hard, but better than nothing.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a bite.

“Here’s a bit of cheese.” He handed her a cloth containing a wedge the size of her thumb.

“Are there fruits or nuts that grow in the area?” she asked. This far north, she wasn’t sure.

“Very few that aren’t poisonous, but admittedly, I haven't been here long. There's little sun up here, and most of the wild vegetation is liable to give you stomach cramps at best, bloody stool is a more likely possibility.”

She grimaced. Her pack savored the night but cherished what few hours of light they had each day. She couldn’t imagine what life would be like without the sun, though she knew it was what her ancestors preferred.

Cole didn’t have the look of a Dusklander. His hair was blond, his skin tanned. Dusklanders were most often dark of hair, with a sickly gray skin tone. Especially the ones from this region.

If she had to guess, she would have said he was from Cresite Terras or the Heartlands.

“How long have you lived here? So close to Bloodmoor?” Brenna asked.

Cole continued forward without saying a word, and for a moment, she felt humiliated. It wasn’t often she conversed with anyone outside the Den, let alone asked them about their life, and it seemed Cole had similar mannerisms.

“It’s fine. I have my secrets. You have yours.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not that I have secrets. It’s that I have regrets.”