Page 7 of A Curse So Vile

She understood regrets, and how deeply one tries to bury them. How long had it been since she had thought of that night so long ago? Her life before felt like a shadow or a happy dream. Her reality since was a nightmare.

A drudge hobbled past on short, stumpy legs, his eyes downcast. It was hard for her not to get enraged by the sight of him, a reminder of how careless man had been.

Once, the land had been clean and blessed. When the poison came, and the floodgates opened, most of the population died. Eventually, man was able to contain the tainted waste, and reclaim much of their land, but the effects were ever present, and the lesson was well learned: Don’t fuck with things you don’t understand.

The white haze of the day allowed her to see a short distance into the forest surrounding the path. The canopy of leaves had begun to shed from the tall trees, creating a ghastly vision of decay.

The thicket the Den was situated in was significantly denser, and they had to cut down branches in order to let light filter through. Here, light was always in short supply.

Her eyes went to a thin coil of rope at Cole’s belt. His tunic covered his torso and flank, but she knew by his bare, muscled forearms he would be solid underneath.

Perhaps she could find a way to thank him for his assistance.

“We’re just off the trail, a short way in.” He pointed towards the trees.

She furrowed her brow. “You mean you’re not in the village?”

“We’re better suited out here.”

She supposed he was right. After all, his sister was a witch. Few could survive outside a township in the Dusklands, even middling villages were devastated, ravaged in the night, but witches often preferred solitude and could ward off lesser beasts.

Brenna followed Cole through the trees, into the forest. Perhaps she should have been afraid, but the truth of it was she had lived in fear for over half of her life, and she was ready to be done with it.

“We’ll be there soon. I suppose we should discuss payment?”

“What price could be put upon one’s health?” she asked. “I’ve been wondering that question for years.”

“As have I.”

The trees gave way, and they arrived at a tiny cottage. An old woman sat in a chair outside the door.

Her skin was a rich brown color, and her hair was pulled into braids that were elaborately styled with gemmed pins.

“Your sister is Gryndari?” Brenna asked, confused.

He chuckled. “That is not my sister,” he said. “Dorthea is a friend of my mother’s who has vowed to see us through this trying time.”

Trying time? She surveyed the area and spied a cart at the side of the dwelling where an aged horse stood grazing. Small gardens covered the earth, growing whatever could thrive without the warmth and light of the sun.

Dorthea glared at her as she walked past, her hand clutching a long staff.

Cole placed a hand on her back, startling her.

The last time she'd allowed a man to touch her so intimately, it had been Elric, of the Den. If things had been different, she could have grown to love him. When she was being truthful with herself, she knew she had loved him.

But what use was there for love when your very existence is cursed?

“Ignore her.” He guided her past the older woman. “Dorthea hates magic of all kinds.”

It wasn’t surprising that Dorthea hated magic. Gryndari were known to. The Gryndari blamed magic for the blight, which made it all the more confusing that Dorthea would reside with Cole and his witch of a sister. She supposed, perhaps it was family ties that allowed the bond to endure.

Cole took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. “It’s time to lift this damned curse,” he said, opening the door.

Yes, it is!

Brenna smiled, and for the first time in a decade, her heart felt light as she walked into the cottage.

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