Page 28

The ethereal beams of the full moon transformed the tower’s pale silver into a column of molten gold rising from the dark jungle floor. She hung suspended halfway down the tower’s slick exterior, golden hair wrapped securely around a metal bar in the window above, huffing and puffing at her daring escape as she used her own hair to slide down…

Again! She was leaving the security of her home again!

“Three months,” she whispered against the smooth sea steel, the words misting the cool night air. “Three months and not a word. How can the Giver blame me for going outside? I have no choice, now do I?”

Her fingers tightened around the rope she’d made of the golden strands, knuckles white with strain. What was she supposed to do? Just wait in the tower until she starved? Without any warning, the Giver had disappeared without a trace! No word. No message. Nothing to explain the sudden absence. Food stores were dwindling to dangerous levels; her collection of books were getting reread three times—four times—five! The water system was getting stuffed up. And worst of all—without her guardian, the village was left with no one to protect them.

The shadows had come!

“Not going to wait up there like a helpless damsel in distress,” she muttered, swinging her body to reach the next foothold on the tower’s glistening surface to aid her descent. Her upper body strength wasn’t that amazing! The metal was cool and slick beneath her toes and horribly treacherous. She’d be lucky if she didn’t fall and break her neck!

The village in the distance beckoned like fallen stars scattered across the harbor’s edge, their light dancing against the glittering sea below. On lonely nights, she used to lean precariously over the windowsill, holding her hand out into the cool air, and listen to the distant sounds carried on the wind—voices, laughter, the occasional burst of music, mingled with the distant calls of seabirds and the gentle lapping of waves against the distant shore. Though lately, the happy chatter had changed into echoes that made her blood run cold.

“Not on my watch!”

Her bare foot slipped over the polished tower’s surface. She sucked in her breath, catching the next ridged overlap of metal with her toes. Sea steel was great for keeping out magical intruders, and terrible for climbing! The metal spiraled around the tower like pulled candy and was just as slick in this humidity! Without her hair to anchor her, she’d slide right off the glossy surface to the black void made up of the lush jungle floor far below.

Her hair glowed with the strength of a thousand candles at the close call! Any depth of emotion caused this inconvenient reaction, like a startled firefly pulsing with alarm–-giving away all her feelings. Ah, Storms and Tides, glowing hair was the root of all her embarrassment! The Giver always knew when she was angry or sad or—or scared.

I’m not scared! I refuse to be!

And her hair wasn’t long enough for this! She closed her eyes, feeling the night sea air breathe against her neck, refreshing and fragrant with the jungle blossoms and the sea itself. Steadying herself, she began to whisper—not quite song, not quite speaking. Her hair responded to the magic as if it were a living thing, both tightening its grip on the bars above her and, at her next command, began to grow new strands that reached for the ridged overlap of sea steel nearest her waist, securing her to the tower’s surface.

Hopefully that would hold her steady while she worked on rebuilding the knotted bedsheets she'd basically made of her hair. Wandering from the tower was all so new, and thankfully tugging at her hair didn’t hurt like the days when Momma combed out her snarls as a child. Living in the tower had made her hair different, strange, an extension of her.

Time to grow her escape out of here! At her whispered song, her hair flowed from the roots of her scalp, extending like liquid light. As it grew, she gathered the pile close to her stomach and allowed the strands to guide themselves upward, threading through the bars above until they streamed past the base of the tower. Another whispered note, and the tendrils re-braided and wove back into the form of the glimmering, golden rope from before.

Good… except her guilt ate at her. “Get back inside, young lady!”

She winced as the memory of the Giver’s shriek as it invaded her mind. “It’s impossible to stay here forever,” she reminded herself; voice barely audible over the whistling wind. No matter that the sea steel kept the enemy out—if the Sylphorian royalty discovered she still lived, they would send her to the ashpits where they’d executed all the other ?thrari mutants before her. And she was the worse mutant of all—a sucti, who would drain them of all their royal powers.

Her hair reacted to her fevered thoughts like a living flame. Undine’s Curse! Now anyone would be able to see her in the darkness—she was like a captured lightning bolt out here!

She’d better stop all these hysterics before the shadows spotted her and attacked. Her heart raged against her chest as more fear overtook her, and she groaned. Yeah, calming down wasn’t happening any time soon—better get down fast!

Taking a deep breath and gripping the gold rope, she swung out into the open air. The shock of having nothing beneath her feet made her gasp—her hair glowed even brighter now but held firm. At least she could depend on that! Her toes landed against the tower's sea steel exterior, and she began to lower herself, hand over hand, looping the braid to control her descent. The smooth strands slid through her hands at a steady pace.

“She’s going to be so angry I’ve left!” Her worry got caught in the thickness of her hair.

The Giver had saved her from death’s cruel fate by bringing her to this sanctuary—the abandoned Arcanist Library-Tower. Her guardian had transformed the old wizard’s vast collection of arcane knowledge into a haven for her young charge… well, as the Giver liked to call the musty old museum—it was home anyway. No matter that she’d cried for months when she’d first been rescued. Ten-year-olds didn’t understand why their family didn’t love them anymore—she’d missed Poppa’s hugs, longed to run with her brothers in the gardens, and wept inconsolably for Momma—when they’d only wanted her dead.

Where was her gratitude to her rescuer and for this new home? “Never, never leave!”

“How am I supposed to do that?” she muttered. Her coarse woolen dress—a drab, colorless brown thing that scratched against her skin—caught the wind, billowing around her legs as she lowered downward.

“Maybe the Giver shouldn’t have left then! I can’t obey if I’m dead. It’s not like I’m a bad person for venturing outside… I’m good. I really am!” Her guilt consumed her like it always did. “Well, I try anyway. And no one will be in danger if I leave the tower… the sea people need me! Of course, of course, I’ll be careful with them…” she promised. “I won’t stand too close, won’t drain the magic users.”

And yes, talking to herself was common… or arguing to be more accurate. The days, months, years, and decade spent mostly alone inspired deep creativity… a nice way of putting it. After discovering that her former powers to dissolve and shift through the air as seafoam had somehow given way to her hair’s strange rebellions, she created elaborate webs of these golden strands to climb through the bookshelves, swing through the rows like a starclimber, and pull down the best books. She’d devour each one, through them living freedom, laughter, and love.

Oh depths! How she craved love—to be held, to never be feared or trapped!

Either way, that dusty collection had given her another life. A good thing… because being herself was far too lonely and terrible.

Her fingers combed through the golden strands of rope—still smooth and silky as she continued her escape, the ground drawing dangerously close, steadily delivering her to those who hated her most. She stilled. What was she doing?

She was the “thing in the tower.” A monster that sucked magic users of their powers! The sea people had another name for her… not that she’d ever repeat it!

Once, long ago, she was called something lovely, a name that was hers from birth, spoken with affection and perhaps even pride. But...well, the Giver called her Rapunzel. No use remembering the past anyway. She wasn’t meant for the life she once had, but if there was a way to prove her worth? She’d take it.

Gathering her courage, Rapunzel released her hold and dropped the last few feet, landing softly on the clearing of tall grass. The springy blades tickled her bare feet, instead of the scratch of the hard stone floors of the tower. She wiggled her toes, savoring the feeling… might as well! The first few times she'd ever ventured out—all within this month—the rocks and thorny vines in the jungle had been a different story altogether.

She never had use for slippers before, as soon as her feet outgrew the ones she’d arrived in, the Giver hadn’t bothered to replace them. What good were shoes anyway, though she’d always thought Circe’s black shadowsilk slippers looked absolutely smashing! The crushed sapphires caught the moonlight during her surprise visits like tiny fragments of the night sky.

“Quit that moaning and groaning! You’ll get your slippers! You’ll get your adventures…” And love? She lost her nerve and couldn’t bring herself to ask that aloud, though her silly hair seemed to glow hopefully at the idea. Rapunzel let out a harsh laugh, one the Giver might give if she were here. “No! Not that, you stupid girl.”

Also, something the Giver might say. Her hair dimmed, but it was for the best! Love hurt too much, far more than stubbing her toes on a few rocks.

The tower’s shadow blocked out the glittering sky above, a threatening silhouette made up of spiraling ribbons of metal that coiled like a serpent embracing its prey, the twisted sea steel reminding her of a fate she couldn’t escape. She belonged up there, and she'd return before the rise of the sun.

Her eyes narrowed. Studying her home from this angle was so strange—how small her room at the top looked from down here, when for most of her life that stone-walled chamber had been her whole world. The window? Her only portal to a kingdom that breathed and lived beyond her reach.

A strange mixture of relief and longing overcame her; feelings she didn’t understand as she turned her shoulder against her sanctuary to watch the glittering village below. The stars were within her reach, closer than ever, nestled in a cove that opened to the shining sea, protected by tall walls and coastal cliffs that would never keep out the shadows that came for them, nor their new protector—one they’d never accept in the light of day.

Hadn’t Circe done the same for these people? None of these shadows had come to torment them before the Giver had left them on their own. And what of Rapunzel? Now she was expected to slip and scrabble and fight this danger with untested hands?

Panic twisted Rapunzel’s stomach into knots as she faced the unknown. The heroes in the books she’d read didn’t have hair that glowed when they worried… or argued with themselves or cared about owning pretty slippers.

A scream cut through the night, echoing from the direction of the village. The sound was raw with terror, human but distorted. The shadows had reached more victims. Her fear was drowned in a flood of concern.

Rapunzel whispered a melody like falling rain, her fingers dancing through her golden strands as she commanded her hair to retreat. The lengthy tresses responded instantly, releasing the bars at her window above and flowing back into her scalp like golden thread being rewound on an invisible spool. Within seconds, her impossible length fell just past her waist—more manageable for running.

She quickened her pace, wondering if these people would be grateful for her help if they knew who—or what—was rescuing them while they slept near the restless sea.

None of them would guess, least of all herself, that her curse would prove so useful!

“I’m coming,” she shouted through the blustering wind that carried the scent of salt and seaweed. Then imagining what they might say in return, she added, “No, it’s okay. I’m not… that bad. Well, anything’s better than getting your soul sucked out, right?”

Another scream pierced the night air, making her stumble over her feet. No more talking! There were shadows to eat.

Thanks for exploring the first chapter of Golden Curse! I hope Rapunzel’s daring escape has left you eager to follow her into the shadows and discover what happens next in the world of Everrgold. Her journey is just beginning, and trust me—I can’t wait to bring more romance, more fun, and more adventure to you!