Serena's Curse

Chapter 5

By midday, the square had come alive. Merchants arranged wares beneath creaking wooden stalls. Children darted between carts, and the smell of bread drifted through the air. For a town that felt lifeless last night, daylight gave it an illusion of normalcy.

I wandered past the fountain toward the edge of the square where a group of boys were gathered. They circled one another with wooden batons in their hands, sparring with the reckless enthusiasm and energy only youth could muster.

One of the boys stood taller than the rest, barking out orders like a self-appointed captain. “Guard higher, Mason, you swing like a drunk farmer!”

I could immediately tell who Mason was, with his long hair and sharp eyes, which were similar to mine, except that his hair was dark. I watched as he scowled and adjusted his grip. His baton struck back with surprising speed, catching the tall boy off guard. The group erupted in laughter, and I found myself smiling despite the heaviness in my chest.

They noticed me watching. The tall boy pointed a baton at me, “Hey, stranger, care to join?”

I raised a brow. “With those stick swords?” I said, pointing a mocking finger at the baton they held.

“Are you afraid?” he teased.

I chuckled and stepped forward to accept the baton. “I’ve faced better challenges.”

“Let’s see if you’re not all talk.”

I held the baton and spun it once in my palm, the familiar weight settled in as if I were back training with my brothers. I could see the boys’ eyes lit up with curiosity.

My sparring partner stepped forward, and he began with quick, clumsy strikes aimed with more heart than skill. I deflected them easily, laughing when two of them tried to corner me at once. His footwork was messy, but his determination was admirable. After a series of unsuccessful strikes, he stepped back.

They all seemed reluctant to step forward, then Mason came at me. His strikes carried precision unlike the other boy. He fought with the kind of stubborn fire I recognised in myself years ago, when I refused to let anyone tell me who I could be, not my father, not my brothers, not even fate itself. I parried his blow, letting the rhythm draw us into a proper duel.

“You’ve got spirit,” I said between the clashes.

“Do I? Then why are you holding back?” he shot back.

I laughed out loud. “Glad you could tell, it means try harder.” I teased.

He swung again, and I caught his baton mid-strike, twisting it just enough to disarm him without bruising his pride. The weapon clattered to the stones. The other boys whooped and cheered, half in admiration, half in mockery of their friend.

Mason only wiped the sweat from his brow, then he looked at me with his shiny eyes. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“My brothers,” I said lightly, offering his baton back. “Coupled with picking up by paying attention.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re not from Windrest.” He said with a curious look.

“I think everyone can tell,” I admitted. “I kind of lost my way.”

For a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other. Then finally, Mason broke into a grin. “Then maybe you’ll teach me, if you’re sticking around.”

I scoffed without another word, dropped the baton and stepped back. Just then, something drew my attention to the edge of the field where a little girl appeared. She had tangled hair and a face too solemn for her age; she stood there watching quietly.

I tilted my head in her direction, then she signalled me to come closer. I looked back only to find the other boys engrossed in their sparring match. I took calculated steps towards the little girl.

She smiled, she spoke with a soft voice. “The answers you seek… you’ll find them in the Gloomspire.”

I shook my head in confusion, taken aback by yet another mystery, I couldn’t find words.

“You were at the square this morning, you seemed keen to find answers about Windrest. There’s an old library at the edge of town, go there.” She pointed toward the distant, crooked spire jutting above the rooftops. “There you’ll find everything you seek.”

I looked in the direction she had pointed, when I turned back to ask further questions, she was gone, she vanished just like the old man I had met earlier.

“I see you met Hayes, the orphan girl,” Mason’s voice startled me.

“You know her”, I replied, turning around carefully.

“We’ve all seen her, but no one knows who she really is,” Mason continued in a low voice. “The legends say she’s been around about a hundred years, in the same shape and form.”

I heaved a deep sigh “This village is not short of mysteries,” I added.

“And her speaking to you means the spirits of the village have noticed you”, Mason pushed further

The weight of his words sank into me. Whatever was in the Gloomspire, I need to see it.