The curse

By Suzette Drake

Chapter Three
Strength



Prince, your future wife arrives soon,” Said the Undrane servant.
“Thank you.” Responded the prince Motzelar. “Tell me servant, have you seen my bride?”
“No your highness, but I hear that her beauty and wit surpasses any of our females” Said the demon-like servant.
“Yes. I hear the same things, yet -” He hesitated, “I would like to know what she is like… I am sure she will make a fine addition to our people. She may add some new-ness to our old ways and views. A fine vixen she should be. I heard she made a fine protest to the marriage” He looked off into the distance, yet all that was before him was nothing but a stonewall. “Many passionate arguments I’m sure, she and I will be sure to have.” He was speaking more to himself than to the servant. He realized this just then, “Thank you for your news, servant. Now go. I have much to do.”
“Yes your highness” The servant bowed and left the room.

The room was dimly lit. Even for the day it was dark. His land was often dark. His people missed the bright orb that used to light the lands he would soon rule. When his father died he would rule. The child he was sure he would have with the Kacine was sure to be a powerful being. His son would rule both lands, he’d be sure to see to that. His people would have light again. But how long would the light last, when most of his people were shadows? The people of his land were the reason they rarely were graced with the light-filled orb. Almost all creatures in his Kingdome were tainted. But were they evil? He did not think so.

Evil is many things, but nothing can be all evil, not as I see evil… No we are not evil, only creatures of the night. We have evolved this way. We should not feel guilt for our natures. We should not fight our natures. To deny ourselves would be more evil than to not. We must be true to our selves. To be true to our souls…

He became lost in these thoughts, only to be stirred from them because of an irritating knocking at the door. She had arrived, surely. What else would they be bothering me about at a time like this?

The rapping continued at the doors that rose all the way to the ceilings. All eighteen feet. They were solid wood. Antiques even for the ancient fortress they referred to as a castle.


Charlotte knew the day was inevitable. She had to go. She did not really matter, only the welfare of her people. She would be sentenced to a life of misery and sorrow. He life would be nothing but death from here on in. She would be living death. Going into a land that was darkness. The shadows reminded her of the shadows that she would see after awakening from her nightmares. Those nightmares that just kept repeating themselves night after night. Even when in daydreams she would be tortured, though never remembering a single thing. Save for the memory that it was unpleasant. Save for the memory that she had a nightmare. It was a nightmare that kept repeating itself; a nightmare that promised never to leave. It promised to become longer and more vivid each time, though she’d only remember that it was vivid. She’d remember that it was painful. She’d remember that it made her scream out in fear and despair when she attempted to remember. She’d wake from it in a cold sweat. Though she felt sure that the sweat was her blood. When she’d light her lamps it would only be her body’s moisture, nothing more. She knew though. She knew that it was blood she’d sweat. And now she was going into the lion’s den.

She was carried to the people whom she was taught to fear and to hate since she was a child. She was being sacrificed to end a war they said. She was never free, only privileged. As all princesses she was only a pawn. Her sex for males to subside argument. Nothing was sacred anymore. When she was only a child she had gotten lost in the woods. She was thirsty and wanted food. She was alone in the forest, in the night that the shadows of the forests so became. Then there had been a shaft of light, as she remembered it. The light shone upon a pool of water. An old woman sat by the pool, singing hymns that the young yet learned princess did not know. Another language, yet Charlotte thought she had known all tongues of her Kingdome. With her regal regard and condescending air that she had been taught to have when dealing with commoners, she approached the woman.

“Tell me what you sing woman, for I wish to know,” She had said to the old woman. The old woman had only continued her chanting, ignoring the princess.
“I asked you a question old woman” Charlotte had never before been ignored by anyone outside the court; this had been a new thing to her. She had stared at the woman. The old woman looked up from the pool, but never breaking her hymns. She gestured to the girl to come sit next to her. Though Charlotte felt higher than what she saw as a hag woman, a crazy woman in the middle of the woods, she complied.
Charlotte had sat next to the old woman, and for the strangest of reasons she felt safer at that point in time than any other time she had ever known. Safe in the darkness, with only that bit of light. Light she did not know the source. Next to the clearest waters…


“Princess we are here” A voice brought Charlotte from her thoughts. She was amid the dark Kingdome now. The Kingdome she had always prayed never to have to see or know about. The soil she did not wish to touch because it was lifeless. The soil of a land that was dead.

A tear rolled silently down her face, but before it would hit the earth underfoot, she noticed with a strange melancholy, it turned from clear saltwater, into blood; her blood soaked the earth. She saw it grow from that single drop into a puddle surrounding her. She wanted to scream, but found her mouth would not even open. Her scream was trapped inside her. She had an incredible sense that she’d felt this sensation at least once before. Or had it been a thousand?

Her servant, the coachman who had brought her there, touched her arm. “Princess, is all well?” Had she only just dreamt even as she was awake of what had just happened? There was no blood underfoot. Her face did feel moist. Had she been weeping the whole journey? She could no longer recall.

She was here now. In the land of nightmares. That was all that she knew. It was all that she could know. Noting was real anymore. Nothing.


Charlotte was led to her new bedchambers. Her new people attempted to make her as comfortable as possible. They had gone through great lengths to import Kacine finery, they informed her. She supposed most of which they had in this room they had acquired through their many sieges upon her kingdom. No, she thought, I must no longer think of it that way. The Undranes are my people. Being Kacine is now only my heritage. I should have to rule this land and bring peace. The sieges that occurred will not be repeated. I must be queen here to do that. I cannot let their fierce ways break me. This will only make me all the stronger.

“Princess,” Came a voice of one of her attendants. “Do you wish to change dress before dinner?” Charlotte reflected, she remembered that yes, one should change into proper attire before royal dinners. “Yes servant. I should like to change out of my tired cloths that I have traveled in. Bring me the trunk full of my dresses.” She ordered. “Tell me servant, what colour should best suit this occasion?”


Charlotte dismisses her attendants so to change her clothing. She did not have her servants from home and did not feel comfortable with the enemy dressing her. She had dressed herself before, on days when she would have none see her. Yet those times she did not dress elaborately as she was planning to now. She had her servants open all her trunks and had her jewelry, hairbrushes and her beauty paints lain out at her vanity. She would go see her fate boldly. She adorned her body with sweet Kacine perfumes, wore undergarments that would visually enhance and emphasis her breasts. She adorned her pulse points with oils that would make men want to taste her, oils that excited the thought of her body even to herself they were so strong. One way or another they will want me and bow at my every whim. She wore a red gown, it was made out of silks so fine they were almost transparent, into it was woven gold threads. She brushed her hair out, this eve it looked almost as red as her dress. She wore the crown of her home kingdom. Charlotte wore no other jewels, though she had so many of them. Her physical features would show to be her prize. The neckline of her dress was almost none existent, only just covering her nipples. She painted her eyes to make them look hard. Her lips she did not need to paint, fore they were always a brilliant red.


She thought herself ready to go down in a bang. She would never show the Undranes that she had fears of being among them. Instead she would be bold and mock them. She no longer could feel anything, or so she thought. Her dreams controlled her almost to a breaking point. She did not care if she looked as though she was seducing the prince of the Undrane kingdom. It is better that it looks as though I am seducing him instead of looking as though he is to be raping me.

Charlotte informed the attendants outside her door that she was ready to be led to the grand dinner hall. In her eyes her fate had been sealed. She would not go silently into this kingdom of darkness.


The diner hall was huge, and in it was black granite that stretched from one end of it to the other, yet there was still plenty of room. At the table sat the Undrane court. They had made this a festive occasion to be celebrated. They too had dressed elaborately, yet still she stood out in her fine garments. Those servants who had attended her earlier noticed that her hair was now almost the colour of blood. This surprised them a great deal, yet the Rulers had yet to see her, so were not taken aback by her strangeness. They thought she no different then their own people, yet she had a regalness about her. As she approached them the eerie music of this court slowed and then seized.

In proper court fashion she bowed to the king and his queen, they too bowed as they had learnt was the Kacine custom.
“Princess Charlotte, welcome to our land. We hope all so far has been to your liking.” They gestured to the table and some empty seats. “Please sit and join us in our feast.”
She sat. “Thank you, everything seams to be in proper order for my liking, thus far.” She said so without emotion, simply with taught respect of the court. Her face reflected that she felt no like or dislike to her surroundings, when in truth she was disgusted by everything. She was disgusted by all the black and darkness in this castle, all the walls were black stone, the chairs, black stone, the tables the bed posts and the vanity in her room, all black. The windows had no beautiful fashions about them as they had at home; there were no colourful tapestries or paintings depicting any of this kingdoms likes or accomplishments as they did at home. The court wore skins of animals and no fine threads as she did. All the light in the corridors, the rooms and even this grand hall were all flames. In her kingdom they had had skylights, mirrors along with white stonewalls and fine woods as decoration and function.

She noticed that she had yet to see any wood used in what was supposed to be a palace. How strange. Yet she now sat in revolt at this grand table, that had things been under different circumstances she may have liked the beauty of the darkness, because in all truth it was, in a way. My wings, she thought, are indeed black, when they are to be seen. If I were to have them shown here, no one would even see them because they would just blend into the background. The wings I see myself with in dreams…The thought entertained her somewhat.

She sat at the table and ate what was put before her, drank what was put before her and took part in the monotonous conversation about her. All the time not caring. All the time being bold. All the time pretending she was somewhere else. She felt as though with each word she uttered in this place, with each bite she took and each drink she sipped, she was dying from the inside out. She didn’t let it show though. She refused to let it show, because she knew if she did than it surely would kill her. She saved all her tears now for her dreams, those dreams that kept her company now more than any friend in her life could. Though even now she did not know to curse their company or bless them, because she had nothing else.


They went all through dinner without the prince showing. Charlotte, loathing the thought of what meeting him would imply, said nothing. The music that had been playing in the grand hall stopped once again. The doors at the far end of the room opened. Charlotte now took notice that the doors went all the way to the ceiling, the ceiling that was so high and covered in sky-light windows that she did not know when the room had stooped and when the night began. A gentle, yet not pleasant wind blew into the hall, making all the torch light flitter. In the doorway Charlotte made out the silhouette of a tall and muscled man.

He walked all the way to the head of the table, where Charlotte sat with the King and Queen. All the time, Charlotte thanked the gods that that music had stopped. He had walked as it seemed to Charlotte, as though not using his legs, for there was no rise and fall rhythm to the body, as it should when someone walks. He also walked, as it seemed to her, not fast, yet he did not proceed slowly. It was as if that one moment he was at one end of the room and the next he was standing beside her, yet it also seemed as though that the moment had lasted a millennia to the girl. The second after he was at her side the trance she felt she had been in was broken.

The man looked to the King and to the Queen, they nodded all together at the same time and in that slow, but not slow manner. He now looked to her, and he spoke for the first time to Charlotte.


“Lady,” He said holding out his hand to her and gesturing his head to the dark dance floor, “ It would do me great pleasure to have a dance with you”

Charlotte had no choice but to go with him. She let her hand fall into his and was led to the captivating and strange music, which just a moment ago she had been revolted at. She looked at him now, truly looked at him. He was taller than any man she had ever known, his hair was dark as kohl, the colour of his dark eyes were hidden in the shadows. His skin looked as though it had just been washed but still gave a hint that it had been next to a great many campfires. Charlotte’s thoughts lingered at this. Campfires. Her distance could be seen on her face, but the man made no remark. What was so important about fires? She asked herself. She remembered darkness. She was amid a world of darkness now. Something about a crow, a giant crow. But that was silly; she had never seen anything of the sort. Yet there was something about this moment. She remembered for the first time her dream. A look of shock and of fear crossed her face. The dancing continued, it felt to her as though they were spinning ever so fast now. Why did it feel as though she was going in a downward spiral? Her breathing became labored. She was remembering for the first time the woman of snakes; she began to see a redness enveloping all the darkness in the room. The red seemed to her then to be snakes, slithering, intertwining within and over each other.

She tried to shake the visions away. She felt as though she was screaming but no one could hear her. No one could because no one did. She was screaming in her mind. She looked up at the man leading her dance, looked at his eyes. She knew him. She knew him. But in all physical truths she had never seen him before. She had never seen the face that was before her, never felt the cold, cold touch of such hands. What she prayed was wrong?

Charlotte panicked. She started to shake herself away from the man. “Let go of me.” She said in her regal voice, laced with fear and something more. “I no longer wish to dance.” She shook one of her hands free from his grip. “I tier. Let go. Let me go!” She turned herself away from him. As much as it did feel as though she was trapped by him, he did not protest her wishes. He let her go, and quietly bowed to her. Though there seemed to have been a snicker in his manor. A mockery of all that was happening. Despite this mockery his manor was still smooth and outwardly could have been taken as gentlemanly and respectful.

The prince walked over to the dinning table and sat. He drank his wine as the girl ran panicked and disturbed from the grand hall. She ran and she ran down the dark corridors, hardly any torches to light the way. Than she realized that she did not know where she was running. She did not know this place. It was too dark. All the passages she encountered were the same as the last. Charlotte became despaired once more. She collapsed her back against a wall, slowly letting herself fall into a seated position against the wall and the floor beneath her. She fully crying by the time she was seated. Her face stained.


How am I supposed to survive here? Rule here? When I cannot even stand to dance with one of them. Why was I the one to be thrown to the lions? The darkness became heavier. “Dear god,” if any exist. “Save me.” Save me from this. Save me from these dreams. Save me from who I am. Save me from what they are. Teach me who I am and send them away. How do I use what I know I have?

The darkness enveloped. That thick air. The already dim torchlight was becoming blurred. And it all seemed somehow further away.

Hints of voices came to her. She could not decipher it. It sounded like wind biting at a window’s pane at first. Then the sound. That sound unlike any other. It was the voice of the three and the voice of the dark. The all encompancing voice of the comforts of darkness.
The ones that had promised that even when she did not know herself, that she would know them. And they were calling to her now. Calling out her name for attention. Attempting to tell her… tell her something she need know. She was never going home. Never would she see the sun as she once had. By the time she would see the sun again; it would be a different sun. A different sky. It would be different oceans and different forests.
Good god if there is one… she thought. How long will I be here? How long will this darkness keep me hostage? How long until I see the unicorns again? Will there still be such thing as a unicorn if the skies are different? How long until I am to return?

The constellations will have changed by the time she would return.The voices of the three told her much more as she wept. And she only wept harder at the continuance of that voice. That voice that made her stomach turn. Perhaps she had wept at what they were telling her. Then again maybe she wept so to drown out what they were saying, because she didn’t want to hear about it. She didn’t want to know anything any more…. She only wanted peace.

She felt as though she was going mad because the only thing she seemed to hear were these disembodied voices. She wanted to run from the voices, that were one voice. She wanted to find her room. Wanted to find her pillow so she may bury her head in it and weep. She wanted to scream into her pillow all her fears so the enemy would not know that she had fears. She needed to seem strong. How can I seem strong when I know I am so weak… when I know I can’t handle this? But she had to handle this. The voice of the three did not torment her for torment's sake. They tormented her because they needed to tell her these things, because she was needed. They needed her.

Chapter one, The Loss

Chapter two, The Nightmares

Chapter four, In the arms of the dreamer

Chapter five, The day the whole world went away

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