The Curse of Eternity

On the furthest edges of the Ciy'bria Provence next to the Chimera Sea, lay the Dukedom of Everlasting night. It is said the Dukedom once knew a different name; a grand name, a name noble and proper befitting its nature. All can agree the name it bares now, suits the land much better than the name it bore before. As the name suggests, the land is a cursed land; cursed by a powerful witch to eternal darkness. Our skies are always night. With the moon and stars constantly overhead, we tell the passage of time through the cycles of the moons. There is no Rhyun shining his face above us but the crops still grow and the seasons still turn. We call the parts of the day, early night, midnight and dark night. The lore of the curse can fit inside of a nutshell, so small the information is but all know this; the witch cursed the Lord of the Land to everlasting life and the land to everlasting darkness. There is one more fact we know about the curse; the Immortal Lord or the Dea'mond Lord as the village calls him, needs a Bride every New Moons Turn. He will send his grand carriage to a village three moons prior where it will wait until the Bride steps within. In some stories the Bride is special. She is chosen out of fear and respect of the Dea'Mond Lord's power. The village chooses their best girl, one who will be of marriageable age when it's their turn to present her.  They will choose a young girl, the promise of her beauty like a closed flower, shy and hidden among nervous petals. She will be trained on how to be a proper wife to the creature responsible in sending their land into eternal darkness. She learns to sew and embroider with tiny, perfect stitches. She is given the best silks in the brightest colours, brass, copper and silver coins and bells. She sews her wedding gown in neat, invisible stitches and grows into the role she's been bred to play. The snow is always deepest during Moons Turn, the village turns to ice in the most wonderful way and I imagine it's the same now as it was when the curse began; full of glimmering snow and trees crowned with ice chimes singing in the frigid winter wind. The moons are their brightest during this time and illuminate the bride and her walkway like Rhyun shines his face overhead. She is adorned with silks the colour of the sky when the sun used to shine and of starless midnight sky. Her hair is shorn the sign of what she is yet to become, royalty. The bells and coins she's sewn among the gown chime merrily she is a beacon for her beloved to find her in the darkness. She believes in her purpose. The path plotted before her is carpeted with hard crimson winter berries and they shield her bare feet from the blistering cold. At the end of the path carriage awaits unmanned to take her to her groom. As the years travel on the ritual turns into something that can barely be called tradition. I am Desolation; born a cursed girl found wandering a cursed land. From the crown of my head to the soles of my feet my skin is spelled and my gaze brings death. Of the times before Mupu found me, I don't remember much and what I do stays locked behind doors of forgetfulness. Mupu is a dear old Feelinai who took me in when the world left me to die. She is also a woman who cannot be affected by my curse because she is blind. She does not care about my curse or the marqueings on my skin; she cannot see them. More importantly, she never seeks to exploit my curse for her benefit. I am about seven when I kill my first living being and my curse discovered. The memory takes me as they usually do, throwing me head first into the past spiraling until I relive it. I am foraging in the forest. Sunlight streams inviting and warm between golden Feyan branches illuminating the ground carpeted with vibrant moss, eine nettles and twigs. The air is pungent with spicy Lililanth and a soft breeze plays about my ankles. As I walk a magnificent blackberry bush raises before me decorated with large, ripe berries. Gathering the corners of my cloak in one hand I make a mock basket and collect the fruit with the other. The bush has summoned another visitor with its succulent offering. The bush trembles violently and a loud growl ensues. The growl is familiar and I back away from the vegetation slowly. A Mera bear barrels through the bush then stands on hind legs. Its roar rattles my ears and I release my hold of the berries; they waterfall around my feet and roll towards the bear. I pull my hood off and stare trembling at the grey and white striped monstrosity. Fear has me tethered to the ground; then we make eye contact. The world spins and the bear stumbles falling back to all fours. It stares at me a moment longer then begins to eat the berries I spilt. It does not eat like a regular animal, no it gorges itself swallowing minimally like it would never eat again. I continue to slowly back away from the animal now that its attention is averted. It does not notice. When the bear is finished with the ground berries it hurries over to the bush beginning the gorging process again. It throws its body into the bush and eats, and eats, and eats until there is no bush remaining. The bear should be sated but it continues to another bush full of red berries the kind not for human consumption. I watch, no longer fearful but fascinated and curious. Halfway through eating its third bush, the bear halts and falls over breathing its last. I creep forward but it's still as stone. I creep furthermore feet light upon the nettles but it still does not stir. I cannot see the rise and fall of breath. I am standing over the bear when a quivering voice asks, "What have you done?" Standing nearly out of sight behind a large Feyan is Urentina the Maiyours wife. Her face explains she's seen everything. "Dea'mond spawn wait until my husband hears of this." The event spreads about the village like the worst case of Ashes but there is no substantial proof and the word of only one woman. Most do not believe but the ones who do will cause me grief for the better part of a moon turn. I am young and do not understand my curse; many seek to use me as a tool against their neighbors. One day I am approached by a few men and a woman. They tell me they overheard one of their neighbors speaking of me and how they would love to get a glimpse of my eyes saying my eyes must be quite lovely. In my innocence I believe them and lower my hood for an innocent man. They quickly learn the nature of my curse is unpredictable and I am not in control. Suffice to say many people died in the most unpleasant and unfortunate ways. One man slips off his roof and breaks his neck. Another's barn catches on fire and while trying to save his animals, he is trampled to death instead. No matter who the man or the manner of his death, they all die within moons of each other and are the same men who pestered me a few nights earlier. Urentina takes the time to mention the incident in the forest; her words spark a wildfire. The town's people are livid and they are out for blood but not any regular blood. No, only my cursed blood will sate their lust for revenge. They demand my death. They come with rope and fire to my home screaming in anger at Mupu wanting her to release me to them. She doesn't so they take my by force. A blind woman is no match against a berserker crowd. I cannot be older than eight yet they sentence me to death. Early night they hang me in the village square where I hang until the last star disappears from the sky. That early night the villagers learn a new meaning to fear; me. Whether a part of my curse or a blessing; I cannot die. No, what I mean to say is I can die but I do not stay dead for very long. When the rope is removed from my neck, I gasp for air. My eyes focus on the terrified faces before me and remember they are the ones that killed me. Roaring lightning fills me I feel like I'll disintegrate at any moment. The receding backs of horrified villagers are all I remember. Three more villagers die that morning including Urentina. Since that early-night, we live in a pact I am never to remove my hood in public or display even a hint of power I unleashed. Yet again they don't understand that I cannot control it. In return they will have nothing to do with me besides trade. To insure my good behavior they make mupu part of the bargain. If I ever brake these two rules they will hand mupu like they had done to me moon's earlier. I turn ten and it is once again our village's turn to present a New Moon's Turn Bride. A grand gilded carriage arrives one mid-night and parks in the village square. The carriage is not pulled by any beast but stories I hear mention that there is never a driver or a beast and manned by some type of magic wielded by the Dea'mond Lord. A tall, elegant man dressed in the finest clothes steps from the landau. I take advantage of the attention he's receiving; for once not all eyes are on me. I crouch behind some empty barrels and shifting my hood back, I tilt my head I peer through the veil I wear to see more than leather boots and fine pants. The man is tall, handsome and dark, very dark. His skin reminds me of our forever darkened sky, deep, starless and rich. He wears his long, silver hair in the typical make fashion; in a queue clubbed at the base of his neck. "Citizens of Everlasting Night," the man says, voice deep and melodic, "The moon's turn and your village has the honor of bestowing a Bride." At his words women begin to weep and angry murmurs break out among the crown along with confused whispers. Never once has the Dea'mond Lord sent a man to collect his Bride. The whispers wonder about the change. I hear more as the night progresses. Some villages no long longer choose the best of their maidens; instead offer their worst the ones most likely to not be missed. Other villages have stopped giving Brides altogether; hence the Dea'mond Lords man's presence is explained. The village panics and it becomes clear they were planning on not sending a Bride. A village meeting is called, any one that can be there should be there. My mupu doesn't participate. Three days later the village presents their candidate. It is the baker's daughter Lykka. Lykka is a woman in her mid-twenties and with no marriage prospects. She is on the portly side with a face like a pig. I like her I find her face friendly and she sneaks me sweet buns when no one is around. I feel a pang, she is an almost friend. I am sad to see her go, no one else will ever think of giving me sweet buns. Lykka is not prepared. She is not chosen for her grace and beauty, just the opposite. She did not sew her wedding gown. She is given no coins or bells to call her husband. Instead, she is dressed in her best but it is a thin dress, once blue now gray from many washings. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, I want to hug her but such action will most likely see Mupu hanged. At her side her arms hang with hands clinched in fear. We all hear the rumors. What happens to the Bride's once they are taken? Someone asks. Why does he need any? Then come the whispers from another village. Blood. If the village has to give up a woman then they'd give him Lykka, whom no one but her father wanted. I am twenty-two and for the past twelve moon turns I think I pass through the villagers memory. How wrong I am. A rough knock disturbs the argyle pattern I am carving on a piece of pottery. I ignore it desperately wanting to finish the overdue piece before Mupu arrives. The knock morphs into a pound hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges and buck against the frame. Grumbling curses, I place my etching tool on the Feyan bench beside me and grab the cloak I tossed on an oak stool a candle earlier. I am not required to be cloaked and hooded in the privacy of my own home. I have the mind to open the door as I am and scare the water out of the person breaking down the door. I am confident such action will be seen as attempted murder. I sigh pulling the cloak around my shoulders, place the veil over my face followed by the hood. I open the door to the impatient, disgruntled mien of Yathu, the Maiyour. He's aged twenty moon turns this close up, his face is lined with anger and whatever joy it contained died with his wife. I lower my eyes to the ground before he notices the direction of my gaze. "Where is your mupu?" I shrug. "No matter this news is for you. The Dea'mond Lords man has returned, you are to go with him this night. If you are not in the carriage by third white I will hang your mupu. Do you understand?" I say nothing but move slightly to the right and shut the door, loudly. I feel his wrath behind the wood wanting to lash out but he doesn't and after a few breaths stalks off in the direction he'd come. I am sitting on a stool when mupu arrives. "There are whispers in the village," she says by way of greeting. I don't respond. "Ah, so you've heard." She knows my silence. I raise from my stool and hug her for a long moment letting everything I can't word flow through my embrace. "C-Come w-with me." Mupu places a hand on my cheek, smiling up at me with milky eyes roaming the walls behind me. She's stooped with age and her raven hair is streaked with lavender marking the moons she's lived; for a Feelinai it means centuries. Her kind are a very long lived race. They are one of the first beings created by Ira gifted with the ability to shift into cats. They are the keepers of prophecy and can walk the threads of time to observe history and record it accurately. "Ah, sweet child I have seen this day would come. I love you but I cannot join you my path lies else where," she taps her right eye, "To the Immortal Lord you need to go, there you will find answers." "An-Answers?" "To the questions your heart asks." She is right I do have questions, many of them but I'd given up on finding answers. At the prospect of being completed they flutter anxiously in my chest like panicked birds. I turn and walk away from her, there is nothing left to say and if I look at her old, happily wrinkled face a moment longer I will break down and beg her to come with me. Instead, I tug my hood and veil even lower and walk my path towards the carriage. As Lykka before me; I am not clothed in a bright array of colors, I have neither bells nor coins and I do not walk down a crimson path of winter berries towards my beloved. The Dea'mond Lords man stands next to the carriage, dark and patient. The carriage is large built like a house on four wheels than one pulled by beasts of burden. It is made of some kind of dark wood most likely Currath or Black Oak and is engraved with small silver lettering. When I am closer, I notice the lettering has faint blue light rhythmically pulsing at regular intervals. The man opens the door releasing a small step ladder cleverly hidden on the bottom of the carriage. It unfolds on smooth hinges and he gestures for me to ascend. I falter a moment then gather my dresses and step up into the carriage. The man follows after closing the door with a solid click. That sound resounds like thunder marking the end of my life with finality and the beginning of another. I pray to Ira the next life she gives me will be much kinder but what I hear of The Dea'mond Lord he is anything but kind. I silently settle myself on a maroon stuffed seat containing several stacked books obviously put there for my entertainment. I ignore them and once again mourn the fact that I cannot read. It's going to be a long drive indeed.