The overwhelming cold woke me up from my dreamless sleep. Still, I should be thankful for the cold floor, as it soothed the pain of the bruises on my skin; otherwise, it would be hard to sleep with open injuries without medication. Just a thin, dirty blanket covered my body. It was old and had a few holes, but at least I had some cover.
I suppose I should be glad for the one possession I had.
It was almost summer, and insects started to come out to disturb me every night. The scent of my blood attracted them, and they fed on me while I slept, gnawing on my open flesh. I got up to shove them off my body and dragged the blanket onto the floor to change spot, not to lay anymore so as to have fewer insects and ants on me.
I was hungry, thirsty, and in pain, but I would call myself lucky today. There were days she hit me less, or days she forgot I existed at all. But lately, her temper had sharpened; her patience frayed thin. It felt like even breathing in her presence was enough to anger her.
From the small window of this little room, I could see the lights emanating from the torches of the villagers coming outside for the protest against the witch.
Rumors drifted through the halls, whispers from the maids who thought I couldn't hear. They said the demon prince wanted to marry her, that he was rushing the ceremony.
But she refused him.
And now the people outside had turned against her. The prince had stopped sending food, his revenge, they said. Once, he'd been praised as a kind ruler for feeding the poor. Now his kindness had curdled, and hunger spread like a curse.
For days, angry voices had gathered beyond the gates, torchlight flickering through the windows day and night. I prayed it wouldn't get worse. Because when things went wrong, when her fury had nowhere else to go...she took it out on me.
I wanted to go to the kitchen to find something to fill my empty stomach or some water to quench my dry throat, but it was impossible to get out as the door was locked on the outside. I couldn't wander around; I was a slave after all.
I didn't really know what I was; I just knew that I belonged to the witch.
The others called me the witch's favorite, but they didn't understand. Being her favorite didn't mean safety. It meant belonging to her and her alone. I was her toy, to be played with, beaten, slapped, and so on. They told me that I'd been here since the day after I was born, that this was my fate all along.
And everyone in the mansion knew what she did to me. They knew how she liked to hurt me, how she laughed when I begged her to stop. And still, they obeyed her. They even smiled about it sometimes.
Every single one of them.
I hate them all.
No one is sane in this mansion.
And the worst part was that escaping was impossible. She had marked me long before I was born; a curse carved into my very blood. No matter where I ran, she would find me. There was no place on this rotten planet she couldn't reach. And besides, there's nothing outside for me.
I do have a family, but the evil witch once said that they knew I was going to be taken away. And maybe that's why I stopped trying to escape.
Sometimes there would be some new maids who would take pity on a twelve-year-old kid like me, but they would soon avoid me as soon as the other servants told them what I was. Not knowing anything outside the mansion, I would ask the witch questions to satisfy my curiosity when she wasn't in a bad mood.
I remember that night. I was with her in her chamber, her sitting on an armchair, my head on her lap while she caressed me with her thin and soft fingers. We were in front of a fireplace. There would be times where everything looked peaceful outside, save for the words she would whisper.
Humans here are cruel, greedy, and will always think only of themselves before others. She said. That's the reason others don't help me: because she pays them well. She never told the servants that if they helped me, they would get punished; they only assumed that from the beginning.
They could have treated me better, given me more food, more blankets, or even a pillow. But since they see the witch beating me up, they thought they had to treat me bad as well.
"It's not my fault if you're living miserably... It's your own kind that led you to this life: your family, the humans around you." Her voice was sweet as honey, but it only spat cruel facts. "I'm the one who loves you the most here, my sweet little Leif."
She would always be like that.
Sometimes she would stroke my hair and whisper words of love, as if I were her only light. But moments later, she'd seize my hair and demand to know why I was so different from the other children she had taken in, why I didn't love her enough, why I couldn't ease her loneliness the way they did.
But how could I?
I was just a child, stolen for her revenge. And maybe that's why I couldn't hate her. Her past had led her to ruin, and I was nothing more than the consequence of a broken heart.
And she would at least give me some food while I was with her.
While I was lost in my thoughts, a sharp knock shattered the silence. The door burst open before I could even move.
Three maids entered with their faces blank, their movements mechanical. The first carried a bucket, and before I could react, she threw the water over me. It was freezing, the shock of it jolting me completely awake. I gasped, curling tighter into myself, but they didn't stop.
They tore the blanket from my hands, and with rough, practiced movements, they stripped away my remaining clothes. They began scrubbing at my skin, scraping off the dirt like I was something foul that needed cleansing. Their nails dug deep into my flesh while doing so. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood.
I didn't understand. Why now? Why in the middle of the night?
When they finished, I barely had time to breathe before their hands were on me again. Rough, unkind fingers clamped around my arms, dragging me from the room. Being twelve and frail made it easy for them to haul me around; I weighed almost nothing.
I stumbled after them, and I looked at the thin white robe they'd forced me to wear as it brushed against my legs. It was new, too clean, too pure, and it felt wrong against my skin. I had never worn something so fresh...
Something wasn't right.
They never came for me at this hour. Usually, they would clean me in the morning, watching me like hawks until I was led into the witch's chamber. Never in the middle of the night.
"You must do what the lady wants."
When those words reached my ears, I didn't reply, just as I hadn't for the past years of my whole life. I let myself be dragged, not really in the mood to walk on my own toward what was going to happen. I suppose tonight won't be a good one.
That thought hollowed me out from the inside as we reached a staircase that spiraled down beneath the villa. The air grew colder there, thick with dust and silence. No torches burned along the walls; the darkness swallowed everything.
They stopped at the top of the stairs and pushed me ahead.
"Go downstairs. The lady is waiting for you in the first room..." said the same maid, her voice trembling now just a little. Then she glanced at the others. "We should hurry."
Without another word, they turned and rushed away, their footsteps echoing faintly before vanishing into the hall.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring into the black mouth of the stairway. I drew in a shaky breath and took my first step down.
It was hard to see, so I kept close to the wall, one hand covering my mouth to keep from breathing in the dust that filled the air. I frowned, thinking the maids could have at least left me a torch or something to light the staircase.
In this darkness, every strange sound made my heart jump.
After a while, the cold grew sharper, sinking into my bones. Finally, I reached the bottom of the stairs and kept walking until a faint light appeared, spilling through the crack of a slightly open door. I swallowed hard and peeked inside, only to see a figure standing in the center of the room.
Long, blonde hair flowed with her every movement. Her eyes were a deep, blood-red, and her skin was as pale as porcelain. Her face was as delicate as a blooming flower; at first glance, one might mistake her for a saint. But in truth, she was rotten to the core.
"Leif, come inside."
Her voice sounded like something fallen from heaven. When she turned her head toward me, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Another sleepless night, no doubt, brought on by the chaos raging outside.
I slipped through the doorway and froze. On the floor, a large circle had been drawn in what looked like red paint... or maybe blood. I preferred not to know. Candles crowded the room, their smoke twisting into pale ribbons that clung to the air. Medea, the witch, stood beside a small table, a bundle of herbs was in her hands as she tied them together with a thin cord.
The rest of the room was nearly empty, save for a few shelves lined with old, dust-covered books. That was all.
I sat quietly in a corner, waiting for her to tell me what to do. Everything felt strange and unfamiliar. Fear gnawed at me. Was she going to sacrifice me? I didn't know what had happened to the other children before me, but I could guess they were gone, and no one ever found them.
She walked toward me and knelt down. My eyes squeezed shut, bracing for whatever was coming. But instead of pain, I felt something cool settle against my neck. When I opened my eyes, I saw a necklace with a silver pendant resting on my chest.
Fine delicate wires wove together into a cage that cradled an oval moonstone as its heart.
"That damned newborn prince," she hissed, her fingers brushing over the pendant at my neck. "He thinks he can have everything just because he's royalty? Because he's a demon?" Her touch lingered there, as the air around became colder. "And those humans… I spared their miserable lives, gave them protection and this is how they repay me? Stabbing me in the back."
She drew in a long, trembling breath and met my eyes. "There's nothing left for me in this world," she said quietly, then her hand tilted my chin upward with those long, pointed fingers, and she smiled. "So, I'll give you a blessing. Aren't you lucky?"
She rose gracefully as her white gown followed her every movement and crossed the room to the table, where the bundles of herbs lay waiting. She burned their tips over the flames of the candles on the floor, and more smoke began to curl upward. The scent of the herbs grew stronger by the second, almost suffocating until it itched my nose and made my eyes sting. Then she stepped into the red circle, clutching the smoking herbs like a torch of ritual fire.
"You know," she murmured, "I'm known for my curses. But once… there was a time I only blessed." Her lips curved in that same empty smile she always wore. "Then that bastard betrayed me for a human. Had a family of his own when he was the one who promised me the world."
I watched every motion, every tremor in her hands, the shimmer of tears gathering in her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw to swallow the words she wanted to scream.
"Even if he's been dead for centuries," she spat, "I will never forgive his lineage."
Stepping into the red circle, Medea lifted the smoking herbs high above her head. "Leif," she said, her voice ringing like a spell, "you are mine to be used. So, I will bless you to be imprisoned for a hundred years or more. No one will find you. No one will harm you. You will be kept safe."
She began to trace symbols in the air with the burning herbs, the smoke following her movements like dark ink writing invisible words. Her voice echoed around the room beautifully and terrifyingly.
But her words froze my blood. A hundred years of imprisonment? What did she mean?
Panic clawed at my chest. I lunged forward, grabbing her arm to stop her, but her strength was far beyond humanity. She glared down at me and shoved me to the floor before continuing her chant.
"I will give you my power," she cried, "and in return, you will guard my soul."
I couldn't stop her. I begged, voice breaking as tears blurred my vision. My hands clutched at her gown; my forehead pressed to the cold floor.
"Please," I whispered. "Please stop."
But she didn't.
Seconds later, her blessing ended, and the room became dead silent. I froze, terrified to make a sound, only feeling that searing gaze locked onto me.
It's coming. It's happening right now. I said in my head
I couldn't lift my eyes. Then, she dropped a hand onto my shoulder. At first, it was a gentle touch, but it snapped to a brutal grip as she slammed me onto the ground, right in the center of the circle. She crushed me beneath her weight, immobilizing me. I thrashed violently, desperate to break free, but she whipped out a small knife from her gown and slashed the palm of her hand. Blood gushed from the shallow wound. Before I could even process it, she clamped the dripping, wounded hand over my mouth. I instantly sealed my lips shut; the chilling truth hitting me: blood was always the main ingredient for a curse. I fought her, clawing and gouging my nails into her arms, trying to rip her hand away.
Her entire wet palm smothered my mouth and nose, choking off every scrap of air. Slowly, thick blood started dripping down my cheeks and streaming into my nose.
I was suffocating.
In a desperate, near-death spasm for air, I involuntarily opened my mouth. It was instantly flooded with the sickening taste of iron. I gaggled, helpless, and forced myself to choke down the blood.
I hadn't realized I'd been shutting my eyes the whole time. I could feel blood spilling into my right eye, but I needed to get her off me. I tried to squint but as the blood touched my eye, it blurred my vision and started to burn like hell. But for a brief moment, I saw a blurry, crying figure hovering over me.
She was biting her lip hard, tears spilling from her angry eyes. Even through the haze, I could see a golden light radiating from them instead of the dark red they usually held.
In that moment, my mind cleared and I could hear her whispering about something.
"The world is going to fall apart. War is coming, and death will fall upon those sinners." She continued rambling, but I couldn't understand the rest as her blood felt like burning poison, and I was gasping for air. I was slowly slipping into unconsciousness until she finally took her hands off my mouth. I immediately coughed, spitting out the copper-tasting blood.
"My sweet Leif, hold this." I felt her hands on mine as she pressed something metallic into my palm. "Hold it tight."
I tried to let go, desperate to defy her, but her grip was tighter than ever. I could hear her desperation in her voice. Moments later, I felt her guide the object as it sank into something soft, and her grip suddenly went slack. So, I took the moment to wipe my eyes with my sleeve, only to see the knife buried in her stomach.
"Let's escape together, okay? Now, sleep."
Drowsiness washed over me instantly. I fell backward as the world turned black.