To Break the Curse Part I

Fingers press against my wrist. Press each of my joints.

“Open your mouth.”

    Trained eyes inspect the depths of my mouth, a dot of light summoned at the tip of an index finger.

“Nothing abnormal.”

    After a couple more checks, I’m allowed to pull back on my clothes.

“Everything seems fine about you, only your magic print is still important. Make sure not to overwork yourself.” The doctor takes a few notes, momentarily letting go of his pen to turn to me. The pen keeps writing, its tip a polished opal. “You said you have slight memory disorders?”

    I nod.

“This might indeed be an after-effect of the spell you used.” He resumes. “In which case, it won’t take long before your mind becomes clear again. Come back to see me otherwise. Ahh, and remember to do your report to Xantas.”

“Sure thing.” I head toward the door, pausing on the threshold. A silver earring dangles from my right ear, a small garnet gem glistening at its tip. “Ahh! Do you perhaps know which room is mine? It might be part of the few things I have forgotten.”

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

    After leaving the doctor’s office with a discreet sigh of relief, I cross the corridors of the Militia headquarters.

    Unlike the houses at Felbalia or the castle, the walls here imitate a dark, wooden surface. Imitate, indeed, as there is no wood to be found growing in Juweld. Aside maybe from the borders.

    Gemstones are embedded in the wall with regular spacing. Are they the ones shaping this illusion?

    My eyes linger briefly on them before refocusing on my way at the sound of distant voices. Two gemans cross the corridor. A man and a woman. If the first one wears her hat furnished with the usual white veil for the eyes, the man keeps it under his arm.

“So, inside, it shouldn’t be mandatory to wear it.” I note. “But still, maybe preferred.”

    In doubt, I put mine back on the moment I left the doctor’s office. Actually, it’s reassuring to feel a tad unseen in the devil’s lair.

    Fortunately, I bypass the pair without them paying particular attention to me.

    It takes me only a while longer before finding the door of Yaël’s room. Painted in olive, the number and the knob themselves have a golden sheen.

“There’s no lock?”

    After inspection, I grab the knob. It briefly glows, and there’s a click before I turn and open the door without issue.

“Another artifact? Of course this place is that secure…”

    After closing the door, leaving my hat hooked to it, I don’t even have a doubt about the first thing I should do. Taking a few steps towards the bed, I dump all my weight against it. Which is to say… Not a lot.

“This boy should eat more.”

“Fwiih!”

    Splitting off from the edge of my silver cape, what once resembled a cottony band sewn to it shapes back into my favourite little cloud.

    Sat on the side of the bed, I reach out my hand to pat him, contemplating my disastrous situation. Incarnated as a member of the Militia, I’m now trapped in the walls of their headquarters with the people I fear the most.

    Splendid.

“Maybe I can turn it to my advantage and try to… to what? Change the way they operate? Yaël is but a new member, he said it himself. Sabotage them?”

    I shake my head.

“Even if I somehow set this whole place on fire or something, without other actions it would just bring a mess to Juweld.”

    Images of the recent tragedy on The Devourer haunt me.

“I want it to stop… It isn’t right. It isn’t right that I steal their lives like this. I need to find a way to reverse Pecce’s spell.”

    That’s when an obvious fact crosses my mind.

    I raise my head to scan Yaël’s room. A desk stands in a corner, ordered but covered with stacks of paper. On the shelves above it, many books.

“The Militia should have sharp knowledge of all magical things. I’ll sure be able to find something about the way to counter a spell.”

    Not wasting time, I stand up from the bed and approach the desk. My gaze is attracted to the wall at the side. Birds with long and thin beaks painted in black. Reaching out my hand, I brush my fingers against one of them. The ink reacts to my touch. Instantly, the bird begins beating its wings and flies away, beating its wings on the wall.

    Surprised at first, I manage to refocus on the books, beginning to inspect a first one.

“Let’s scour this place first.”

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

    It’s after two hours of vain searching that my stomach calls me to order. My instincts sharpened over the years in this regard, I find the cafeteria without difficulty.

    Finding a secluded place, I serve myself a couple of bowls of a spicy monster stew. Seven more bowls later, I’m ready to resume my searches. For some reason, I have the feeling a few baffled glances are turned to me during my meal.

    Probably the effect of my precious boy’s looks.

    Roaming through the corridors, unsure if it’s a good idea to ask someone if there’s a library, I decide to cautiously scour the floor.

“Ahh, Yaël. I’ve been looking for you.”

    It’s when I head to the stairs to scour the next floor that a voice calls me. Familiar. I have already heard this voice before. Unease.

    Slowly, I turn around. Away from the stairs.

    Towards my worst nightmares.

    In front of me, a man with white locks apparent from beneath his black hat. The colourless veil hiding his eyes only intensifies the smugness of his smile.

“This man…” I widen my eyes, horrified. “He’s the militiaman who barged into Pecce’s house.”

    Quickly, though, I school my features back to a more natural expression.

“Umm, yes. You’ve been?” I utter.

“Naturally!” He spreads his arms on either side with an elegant twist of his wrists. “Wouldn’t it be rude of me not to catch up with my dear apprentice, after such a harsh mission?”

“Well, fuck.”

“Especially since you owe me a report, don’t you, my little Yaël?”

    Of course Yaël has to be this… I can’t think of any appropriate censored word. This man’s apprentice. I yearn to repeatedly slam my head against the wall, but I need all my remaining braincells right now.

“Ahh, and remember to do your report to Xantas.” The doctor’s words echo in my mind.

“The report… yes, the report. I’m sorry Xantas, I haven’t finished it yet.”

“Not yet? Now that’s surprising coming from someone serious like you.”

“I’m sorry…” I’ll kick your ass on the first opportunity. “I can go write it right now.”

    But, as I turn to leave, Xantas approaches and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“Don’t, don’t. I heard that the doctor kept you in his office for hours until you woke up. If you need time to recover that’s perfectly okay. Why not join me instead in my quarters? I’ll just listen to you as we share a cup of hot chocolate.”

    And without leaving me the possibility to protest, he leads me upstairs…

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

    Xantas’s study is certainly of another calibre compared to Yaël’s all-in-one room. I would envy him… if not for the apocalyptic mess.

    I mean, technically it’s a feat. For, despite the amount of miscellaneous items on every single piece of furniture, there’s some sort of inexplicable order to the way they’re positioned. Still, except the vast bookshelves lining the walls on either side of the door, all the eye can see are trinkets.

    A big glass sphere on a silver pedestal, inside which floats a motionless butterfly. Its wings gifted a metallic sheen. Multiple instruments, or artifacts, whose use I’d be quite unable to guess. Flowers made out of some sort of ice-blue crystal are stocked in vases, mugs placed on both longest edges of his desk. What resemble beetles are fixed to the walls at regular intervals, right beneath the ceiling. Pots of growing gems positioned wherever an empty space could’ve been.

    Actually, anything that shines or looks weird would have its place in there.

“Here, you’ll feel better after a sweet treat.”

    Xantas returns with two cups of steaming hot chocolate. As I take the cup, I notice the intricate patterns traced with cream. Little creatures of foam, resembling owls, are placed on the top. It’s almost a crime to drink it, but it isn’t one I fear to commit.

“Tell me everything about this pirate affair.”

“Sure.”

    I glance at him, sat on the opposite of a big egg trapped in amber. Basically serving as a low table.

    His cup presents the same chocolatte art, except for the patterns representing hearts. It’s the first time I get to see his eyes, since we removed our hats shortly after entering his quarters. He has royal blue irises, specks of gold blown over them. Lapis lazuli.

“How old might he be? Even with seeing his whole face, it’s hard to tell. Late twenties?”

    His cape set aside as well, he sits in a purple sleeveless jacket worn over a white blouse. His shorts are of the same purple shade, with long socks linked to suspenders. The most casual part of his outfit is probably his high violet boots. I hate how distracted I am trying to figure out if these are really suspenders or pieces of fabric attached to his shorts. Cursed individual.

    As he sips from his cup, I proceed to recount to him the events as they occurred since Yaël’s arrival on The Devourer. The long blank period during which he was unconscious is my favourite part, to be honest.

“So, you say after checking the memories of that man,” Xantas just began sculpting flowers akin to the ones on his desk, “you were so horrified by his life filled with crimes of all kinds that you couldn’t repress the urge to kill him?”

“Yes, I got carried away…”

    This might be my most believable lie so far. I’m proud.

“Ohh, I see.” He concludes.

    Finishing the last petal of his ice-blue flower, he puts it aside.

“Now that we’re done with it, my little Yaël, what do you say to a card game?”

“A card game?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, I am bored you see.”

    The audacity.

    But I barely have the time to open my mouth before Xantas stands from his seat and walks towards a chest of drawers. On his way, he mutters something, and everything he placed earlier on the low table vanishes.

“I acquired a new deck of cards, they’re delightful. Actually, the best way to enjoy them is to play in the dark.”

“What useless trinket have you gotten again…” I mumble.

    Xantas returns with said deck and a candle he places in the middle of the low table.

“Exteo.” He utters, and all the magic lamps hanging from the ceiling turn off.

    We’re not in complete darkness for long, though, since the cards the white-haired militiaman takes out of the pack have a glowing, iridescent background.

“You didn’t lie about them.” I note, amazed against my will. The cards even cast their glow against his face, in their broken-glass pattern.

“Me, lying?” Xantas replies with a smug smile, his gaze peaceful. “Now, now, you would almost manage to hurt me.”

    Gathering the cards, he begins to shuffle them.

“Mmm, after all, I think it’ll be better with a tad less darkness. Would you light the candle, please?”

    Without thinking about it, I reach out a finger towards the candle. Since my magic is stronger now, I feel the need to focus to make sure I don’t overdo it. Setting the Militia’s headquarters on fire was but an image, after all.

“Oveno.”

    A flame flickers, settling on the candle’s wick.

    Finishing his card shuffling, Xantas’s lapis-lazuli eyes are wholly focused on me, his smile widening.

“You…” At his words, I lift my chin to meet his gaze. “You aren’t Yaël.”