He spent the day traveling between the villages of Darkignorance, Last Refuge, and Gloomy Haven, where the port on the Drowned River lay. He sought the road further, but could not find it. He visited a twilight library, a noisy tavern, and a large hospital, asking the locals for directions. No one had ever heard of a road leading north, as if it had never existed. Even he began to feel as if he were trapped in a strange, unreal dream.
Night was approaching. He sat at a table in the dimly lit room of an inn, thinking about where to meet the new messenger of the Curse. Thoughts crept into his mind, each darker than the last.
A female voice came—whether from the darkness outside the window or from the depths of his own mind, he could not tell.
"Come to the Blood Castle. Your fate awaits you there."
He had never heard of the Blood Castle. When he asked the innkeeper about it, the man's eyes filled with terror. He retreated into the shadows and hid behind the bar, whining softly, like a dog.
Some of the locals told him a legend of an ancient castle. It would appear wherever there was war or military action. Soldiers would hear a woman's voice calling them to visit the castle. They went—and never returned. Over time, the castle would turn red, overflowing with blood that cascaded like waterfalls from its towers and walls. From that moment on, it was called the Blood Castle, a name born from the countless lives it had claimed. Since then, hearing a woman's call or seeing a castle bathed in red was considered an ill omen. Anyone who heard the voice or saw the Blood Castle was presumed unlikely to live until morning. According to legend, the Blood Castle appeared in the forest.
The Forest of the Dead lay to the north. He directed his horse there.
As the outer trees of the forest fell behind him, he heard the female voice again:
"The Blood Castle awaits you. Hurry."
Black mists drifted through the forest. Amid the mists stood a gloomy castle. Its burned-out windows glared like the eyes of a hungry beast at the approaching rider. The stone walls were red. The portcullis was raised like a monster baring its maw in anticipation of its desired prey. The rider entered the deserted courtyard. No one greeted him. The double doors, adorned with piercing female eyes, opened easily inward. He stepped forward.
Darkness.
"Warrior!" the female voice called.
"Huh?"
"The Cursed!"
"Yes!"
He opened his eyes. He was lying at the bottom of a war boat, drifting along a dark river. Dense black fog swirled around. Jagged cliffs rose on either side of the banks.
Two girls in armor and winged helmets sat in the boat with him. One had light hair and blue eyes, the other black hair and green eyes. The boat moved along the river, guided by some unknown magical force. The girls stared ahead tensely, gripping their swords. On the right bank, a black, ominous tower was approaching. Sinister figures in black spiked armor stood atop it. Black lightning detached from the tower and struck the boat. The warrior women raised their shields and deflected the strikes.
"The magic of the Black Tower is attacking us!" one of the warrior women shouted.
The bow of the boat hit the shore. The warrior women leapt onto the ground while the boat was still moving. Black lightning from the tower kept striking at them, but they raised their shields and pressed forward without pause.
"Get up, the Cursed!" the blonde shouted, glancing back. "Let's bathe our blades in blood, or the tower will destroy us!"
He leapt from the boat and ran after them.