Page 6 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

5

Dawnfall

Alarms thundered in Darcia’s mind as she scanned the Chaser’s imposing armor. Faint lines marked the silver metal, worn but resilient. Yet, it was the royal crest—a golden crown inlaid with gemstones—that caught her eye, gleaming under the sun’s rays, a stark reminder of his rank in the capital.

“Is this Conrad Voreia’s house?”

“Yes,” Darcia hesitated. “He’s my . . . brother.”

The Chaser arched an eyebrow. “Conrad never mentioned having a sister.”

Darcia held her breath, pushing down all her worries to the back of her mind to focus on her next words. Somehow, she found the courage to offer him a sweet, hesitant smile.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she managed to say.

“Who is it, child?” Gion asked from inside the hut.

“Forgive my boldness, I didn’t mean to intrude,” the general apologized to Darcia before looking at Gion. “My name is Harg Koller, General of the Royal Army. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”

“It will be a pleasure to receive you in our abode, sir,” Darcia answered politely.

The general looked at her again, and said, “Please, call me Harg.”

“Sir Koller,” Gion intervened when he reached the door, resting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Allow me to invite you and your comrades for a mug of coffee.”

“Thank you, Mr. Voreia,” Harg replied kindly, “but my soldiers will wait outside. I’m not here to take up much of your time.”

Darcia stepped back, careful not to turn her back on Harg Koller. She wasn’t going to fall for his charming act, not when she knew what he truly was: a man with bloodstained hands, who had waged and won a thousand battles against death.

What was the king’s favorite soldier looking for in her home?

Despite the terror shaking her body, she forced herself to remain calm. She set three clean mugs on a silver tray along with freshly baked bread, listening as Gion offered Harg a seat in the lounge, casually asking about their journey to Dawnfall. The general’s terse answers stirred her curiosity.

The common room was small, but cozy. It had two armchairs near the fireplace atop a burgundy rug, a rickety sofa, a small coffee table, and a few shelves lined with books. It used to be Gion’s study, but over the years, it had become a quiet reading nook—one she only dared to sit in when Conrad was away on his travels.

Darcia set the tray with Sadira’s pastries on the circular table between them and plopped down on the couch next to her father. Her magic stirred within her, warning her of what she already knew: if someone as deadly as Harg Koller had been sent to her city, no one was safe. She lifted her gaze to meet his hard hazel eyes, covered by a mask of false innocence.

Gion smiled at his daughter and proceeded to ask, “Go ahead, General. What brings you to Dawnfall?”

Before answering, Harg poured coffee on the three mugs with an odd familiarity, almost as if he was the host and not a mysterious guest.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he offered her one of the warm mugs.

“I’m afraid that, as an official trip, it requires a certain level of discretion,” he remarked. “The only thing I’m allowed to say is that we’re looking for someone, and your son can be of great help in our investigation.”

‘Help’ was a euphemism for what Conrad could do. Over the years, her stepbrother had earned a reputation as a con man, due to the number of connections he had made throughout Laivalon, who hired him to settle debts. But he did more than that: he found weaknesses and secrets, and used them to his advantage.

Like her, Conrad was a much more dangerous and lethal ghost.

Darcia dropped a sugar cube into her coffee and stirred it quietly.

“And what kind of service do you need?” Gion asked politely. “My son arrived last night, and is now at work, but I can pass the information on to you when he’s back.”

Harg took a sip from his steaming mug and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, I will find a way to communicate with him. Still, I would also require your help, Mr. Voreia. From what I understand, you’re one of the best scholars known in all of Laivalon.”

Gion coughed in surprise. “Those are titles that shouldn’t be mentioned lightly, young man.” He waved a hand to play it down. “But years ago, I was a scholar specialized in alchemy, yes.”

“ Was ?”

“Age takes its toll, I’m afraid.”

“Shame,” Harg said. “Would you see yourself qualified to do a consultation?”

“It can be assessed. Tell me, General, what is this about?”

“The curse of stone and shadow,” the general said with unflappable seriousness.

The curse of Ro’i Rājya.

A roaring panic assaulted Darcia’s nerves as her father said in a serene voice, “I don’t know how much help I can be in that field, but let’s see what can be done.”

Harg nodded in gratitude and extracted a tiny object from one of the many hidden pockets in his armor. When he held out his hand, Darcia narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Little one, would you do me a favor and hand me the monocle on the shelf, please?” her father asked tenderly. She stood up to grab the wooden and glass monocle from one of the shelves and handed it to him with shaky hands. “Thank you.”

Gion adjusted it to his eye and brought his face close to . . . a stone. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and had a few uneven indentations, some darker than others. It was covered with something.

Darcia wrinkled her nose at the stench.

“How odd. It has a strange smell, somewhere between rotten and musky. What is this?”

“It’s a stone from the kingdom of Ro’i Rājya,” Harg revealed. “What covers it is . . .”

“The holly of death,” Gion finished for him, taking the stone between his fingers. “A hint of decay and dark magic.”

“Indeed.”

Her father furrowed his brow. “What does this all mean?”

Still standing by the couch, Darcia clasped her hands in her lap and slyly bent down to appreciate the stone from the Fallen Kingdom.

She’d read many books recounting the horrible curse. Fallen into disgrace, Tavarious and Erlina Boreaalinen’s kingdom had been doomed to oblivion after a wicked bargain had been struck between a daimon and a sorcerer.

Darcia was fascinated by stories, especially those of eerie words and veiled in mystery. Upon seeing her father holding a poisoned stone from Ro’i Rājya, she wished that particular story had never existed. Because it wasn’t just a tale—it was the past.

“It’s something we’re taking care of at court,” Harg replied sparingly. “But we needed confirmation from an expert.”

“Mr. Koller, if your question is whether there’s some kind of dark magic rising in the cursed kingdom, the answer is yes. But I didn’t need to see the holly of death to know that.” Gion looked at the Chaser. “What was the price to pay for extracting this stone from Ro’i Rājya?”

“As far as I know, none.”

“Yet the curse yearns to spread. Dark magic cannot be contained for long. Only someone with the right ability can control it and wield it; just as only someone with incommensurable light magic can destroy it,” the old man explained. “Especially if it’s covenanted magic.”

“Because of the bargain . . .” Harg finished his line of thoughts.

“Precisely. The curse was born of a bargain that was never fulfilled. And if the dark magic that lies dormant beneath our kingdom has awakened, we have little time left to stop it.”

“What will happen if it isn’t fulfilled?” Darcia asked.

Her father shook his head. “In the academy, we were told that the results of these kinds of bargains are always catastrophic. Everything we know would fall into darkness and turn to stone. Perhaps magic would be destroyed forever, as the price for that violated agreement. Laivalon would no longer be a world, reduced to a forgotten wasteland, its last breath fading into the void.”

That was bad.

Really bad.

Harg returned his gaze to the stone and grunted in displeasure. Thousands of thoughts must have been going through his head, many of them about bloodshed. Darcia clenched every muscle in her body, fighting the shiver that threatened to overtake her.

How would they stop it? What lengths would the army—and the king—go to save it? And what would happen if the bargain wasn’t fulfilled before Laivalon lost its light?

The general stood up and slipped the tiny stone into his pocket. “I must leave. If I have any more questions, may I come to consult you?”

“As my daughter said, it will be a pleasure to receive you in our home, General. We’re at the service of the king and everything he needs.”

He held out his hand toward Gion and then turned his attention to Darcia. The Chaser approached her courteously, requesting her hand to kiss it.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your abode, I hope I haven’t intruded too much.”

Darcia gave him a nod and an affable smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Koller.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

The general bowed briefly before Gion escorted him to the door, dismissing him in a good-natured manner. She folded her arms as the rusty hinges creaked in the short distance, her heart settling back to its normal rhythm once the sound of the horses faded away from their home.

“Father.”

“Yes?”

“What must be done to prevent the curse of stone and shadow from spreading?”

Gion spun on his axis and scrutinized his daughter’s face. “All magic comes with a price, Darcie. And such a dark bargain can only be made with a counterpart, a curse. All we can do is hope the king soon finds the cause, and pray to the goddesses for mercy . . . Curses always take their toll, one way or another.”