Cursed Odyssey

The battle was over, and it was unusually quiet.

All alone in the air, The Violet Spectre sheathed her sword as that giant leviathan retreated back to where it came.

As she landed, she looked upon everything… The prison wasn't destroyed, no it was just gone, as if it were never there.

Grass once green was sprayed red with the blood of man, the smell of decaying bodies still tingling her nostrils.

The shipyard had a few battleships missing. Clearly, some of those kids had successfully escaped in the chaos.

A shadow cast upon her face as thick clouds covered the moon.

With a deep breath, she spoke for the first time.

"Should have killed that thing… At least it would have made it somewhat worth my time… Now, how am I gonna explain all of this…"

She rubbed her temples. This was a headache, a massive headache. But there was no time to groan, complain, or surrender. She had to find what was left of her men, regroup, and notify the higher-ups.

But, she couldn't move, as if she were paralyzed.

The words of that boy played in her head…

"China?" "

Why did that sound... wrong? Not unfamiliar, but displaced. Like a melody played in the wrong key, or a shadow cast by invisible light.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind when—

BOOM

The ground erupted.

Flame and fury burst from the earth, revealing a mountain of a man wreathed in smoke. His armour hung in charred tatters, edges glowing like dying embers. Through his visor, crimson eyes burned like bonfires.

"Urslan." She didn't hide her mood. "You're late."

The behemoth dropped to one knee with a crash. Despite the fire that coursed through his veins, sweat hissed against the grass. "Ma'am... forgive me. I let that boy play with me like I was the damn child…."

"Rise." The word cracked like a whip. "Your shame won't fix anything. It's time for redemption,"

He obeyed with a gulp.

"We salvage what remains before we report this disaster." Her voice carried the weight of funeral bells. "Today we lost everything. Even Zephyr and Skylar."

At the first name, Urslan's breathing shattered into jagged gasps. His fists ignited, flame licking between his fingers. "Where is he? I'll kill him! burn the flesh from his—"

"Silence."

His fire died to embers.

"We take him alive, or not at all." Her gaze could have carved stone. "You're fortunate I don't have your head cut and used as a urinal for this..."

His mouth opened, then closed. Words died in his throat.

"Where is Alton? We'll need his spirits to gather our scattered forces."

The wind whistled a long silence before Urslan's tongue untied, and he spoke:

"I killed him." The admission fell like a stone into still water. "It was all his fault and—."

"Not. Another. Word."

The ground rumbled with every syllable.

He shrunk.

She pressed her fingers deeper into her temples, feeling the migraine build like an approaching storm.

"Such hubris from a damn guard dog. Unfortunately, you're somehow the best of what's left." Her smile held no warmth. "Expect punishment later. If you survive."

"Survive?" The word cracked on his lips.

"Did you forget? The poison."

Understanding dawned in his eyes—horror and recognition bleeding together. His knees buckled, armour clanging as he collapsed. Consciousness fled like a thief in the night.

The Violet Spectre stood alone among the dead, watching her idiot guard sleep.

"Why today of all days?" she whispered to the darkness.

The darkness had no answer.

______

"I saw it." Jori's voice trembled like autumn leaves. Orange hair caught firelight as he spoke, tanned skin gleaming with nervous sweat.

"Do you have proof Lagos has awakened? Does this connect to those voices?" The response came sharp through the night air—an inhuman voice.

Winds howled, and the ground trembled subtly.

Within a wooden shack deep in the forest, a congregation of men sat around a fire. Though most had just awoken from their slumber, their eyes were peeled, shaking with visible tension.

There were two kinds of people present—humans with tanned skin tones, and others who were humanoid but distinctly different.

Emerald scales replaced flesh, yellow eyes gleamed with slitted pupils. Clawed hands gestured in the firelight while pointed ears caught every whisper. Where humans bore hair, they displayed horns of varied hues, while natural blossoms crowned their reptilian features like living jewels.

The Zotts.

Humans claimed the right side of the gathering, Zotts the left. At the sanctuary's heart sat two ornate chairs bearing the settlement's leaders— one from each race. Jewelry adorned their ceremonial robes, crimson plumes marking their crown's authority.

"The ancient Lagos is just a myth. This is nothing but an earthquake. I'll be heading back to my quarters— interrupt me and I'll turn you into the new urban legend…" said one of the central figures, his raspy voice old, tired yet commanding.

"But Lord Yrrell!" Jori's desperation bled through every syllable. "I witnessed it with my own eyes! While tending my crops, the tremor came, and when I looked up... Lagos himself appeared! Even the holy sphere confirmed my vision!"

"You dare—" Yrrell's voice rose, cut short by his counterpart's restraining gesture.

"Now, please be respectful to Lord Yrrell. You say you saw it, but where is it now?" Adrian, the human leader, smiled at his fellow man.

"I'm not sure… It just… disappeared… But I swear I saw it!" The human who spoke gulped. His voice broke, and he looked around, desperate for someone to believe him.

"You're just hallucinating! The holy orb only confirmed your mental illness!!" A green horned Zott laughed.

"What a shit show! Tomorrow is the beginning of the harvest! You're probably trying to deceive us somehow… What are you plotting!? I'm heading back to my garden!" another Zott continued.

"Where do these accusations come from!? Since when was this a competition?! Am I not allowed to alert the village when there is possible danger!?" the Jori retorted.

"I do agree… It's best to be safe than sorry," a green-horned Zott interrupted.

"No way you're siding with them!" his Zott brother blurted.

The Zott with green horns shot a confused look. "Side!? What side!?"

"I personally think it's best to be safe than sorry," another Zott commented.

"Yeah, stay blind and let history repeat itself, why don't you!"

"What history? Dare to explain!?"

Order dissolved like salt in rain. Voices rose, overlapping, and accusations flew across the room. All from a single spark…

A spark lit invisible to them.

"Oh, I'd gla—"

"ENOUGH!!"

Adrian, the human leader's roar shattered the chaos. Silence fell like a blade.

"Do you not feel shame for arguing in the holy house of Luud? Oh, how our ancestors are frowning upon us! Do you want us to be even further cursed!? It's already enough that our children are falling prey to the woodland beasts! That our crops are no longer as fresh! That rain is a rare blessing! Oh, I pray our ancestors have mercy upon our souls!"

Heads fell down, some in clear reflection, and others completely hidden.

His words were law, beyond their meaning.

It seemed the villagers were truly convinced their recent misfortune was brought upon them by their own hands.

"Well spoken, Lord Adrian!" Yrrell, the Zott lord, added, nodding slowly. "Lagos exists only in the ancient testament of our scripts, but we shall honour it nonetheless. We will take this matter with some precaution. I will assign one member of the Zotts, and Lord Adrian will assign one member of the humans to keep guard all night… As for me and the—"

Suddenly, the two large wooden doors of the building creaked open.

The wind howled inside, grabbing everyone's attention.

"WHO DARES INTERRUPT—"

"MY LORDS!!" It was a young human woman, panting, her emerald eyes filled with tears. Her tanned skin and blonde hair were stained, and in her trembling, calloused arms were two unconscious children.

She stumbled slightly as she stepped into the room, her legs giving out as she fell to her knees.

An ashen haired boy pale as winter's breathe.

His clothes wet and muddy, his right hand shattered to pieces, and his left hand wooden. His body was littered with leaves, dirt, and other foliage, with gashes of blood and bruises— signs of rough travel in the forest.

The other was a young girl, her hair white as snow with patches of gray and brown. Unlike the rest of her body, which was pale as moonlight, her face was an unnatural color of roses that did not match her otherwise delicate features.

The rest of the men stared in awe at the two children. They were unlike anything they had ever seen before, from their skin tone to their hair, like some kind of exotic animal.

"Who are these odd children?" Adrian, the human lord, broke the silence.

"I don't know, my lord! I heard a noise outside my doorstep, and I found them like this! They need medicine and healing fast! Please, I beg of you!"

"NOT A STEP CLOSER!!" Yrell hissed " Insolent woman! How dare you interrupt the men's gathering! Your kind has no place here!! Winter is coming, and our medicine is low! And you expect us to use it on these two disgusting interlopers!? I'd have had you executed! Leave this instant before I raise your punishment! I don't care where these two came from or how you found them! We have no room for outsiders! We are the only people living here! I'll have them butchered!" Yrrell roared, waving his long walking stick.

The woman shuddered, stepping back while clutching the children tighter to her chest. Words died in her throat, emerging only as desperate puffs of air.

"Enough, Lord Yrrell," Adrian interrupted.

Yrrell's eyes flashed daggers, but Adrian continued unperturbed.

"Think clearly. What if these children are related to Lagos? Perhaps they know something we don't." Adrian paused briefly, looking at the crowd before continuing. "Let us exercise patience and restraint. Also, are you not curious about their origin? These are the first outsiders we've seen in years… Since then…"

"YOU think clearly! They could be dangerous! We don't know where they come from or what they're capable of! I'd rather be safe than curious!"

Adrian took a moment to himself, then looked up toward the crowd, a mix of emotions on their faces, then at the woman at the door, her green eyes moistly staring at him, and the two children in her arms...

He'd made up his mind.

"I'll take full responsibility for these two. There is no harm in questioning them. It's best if we use this to our advantage than throw it away. This is what the Lord ancestors would want. I will put my name and honor on it… I'll ensure the safety… no, the prosperity of all!"

_

'Hmm…' A soft light seeped through Rayah's eyelids, growing steadily brighter.

"Arrgghhhh…"

With an instinctive effort, and despite the sharp pain, her eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Oh heavens' grace and praise be to our ancestors! You're finally awake!"

The words reached her before the world even took shape, like distant echoes reverberating through the fog of her mind.

Then, as if a veil had been lifted, everything slowly snapped into focus.

The small room was walled in cracked, aged wood, dark with invisible stains.

A narrow beam of sunlight cut through a lone window, forcing her to squint as her eyes adjusted.

Beside it hung two paintings: one of a tanned, blonde man grinning with a massive sword, its ornate frame dulled and chipped; the other showed humans and lizard men dining together, curiosity in their wary eyes.

A battered table to her right held a rusted bucket rimmed in red and a frayed, gray cloth.

The air smelled of damp timber, earth, and a faint trace of metal.

Finally, her eyes shifted onto herself.

She sat on a mattress, tucked in by a thinly stitched blanket. The fabric was rough and scratchy, and the stuffing inside felt lumpy, as if it had been hastily put together with whatever was available.

Though it was hard, it felt somewhat comfortable, but after weeks of sleeping on the prison floor, that could be said about anything.

'A… bumpkin's hovel? Wh... where am I...' Her mind wandered half asleep before it was abruptly snapped open.

"You're Rayah, right? I was so worried!"

A woman entered, blonde and tanned with delicate features worn rough by hard living. Her hands bore scars and calluses, bags shadowing green eyes creased with premature wrinkles.

She wore a simple earth-toned dress of coarse fabric, cinched with braided leather. A patched apron with tool-filled pockets covered the front, worn boots laced tight on her feet and a faded blue scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck.

"Who are you?" Rayah wasted no time asking. There was a serious look on her face, yet the woman seemed unfazed.

"My name is Anne. This is my home, Rayah… And this village is called Hano…" She smiled.

"Like I'm supposed to know what that means, lady... Fetch me a ship, or simply a carriage… I must head to the nearest city to look for family. I'll ensure you're repaid with extra..." Though Rayah struggled to breathe, she made her authority clear.

"I'm... sorry?" The woman looked genuinely perplexed, grabbing some herbs from the basket before setting it down.

"Did you, or did you not save me knowing who I am? Or do you want some more guaranteed compensation? Don't be shy, peasant, just say it. Perhaps I can make those dreams a reality..."

"Again... I'm so sorry... But... I don't know who you are..." Anne slowly stepped closer to the mattress where Rayah sat.

"Insolence... Don't play dumb with me! Earlier, you called me by my name... Or did you forget? I'm Rayah Vandymion of the esteemed Vandymion Household, the Frost Birds of Gallica, and third in line to the kingdom! You—"

"Calm down, Rayah..." It was then she heard a sound, and another figure entered the room.

'Zephyr?' Her eyes widened. He looked like a mess, dirt covering his shackled hands.

'Shackles?' Her mind paused, then she looked down at her own hands that were bound in iron.

It was only then did memories slowly come back to her… No longer in her own reverie.

'Of course some random commoner from another island wouldn't know who I am…' She inwardly tssked.

"I was the one who told her your name. Lady Anne not only took us in from the kindness of her heart, but also defended us and fought for our safety from the rest of the village. We're lucky that of all people, she was the one that found us and took us in. Without her, we'd both be dead... So have some respect, will you? We're guests..."

Rayah's mouth opened slightly, then she simply looked away, crossing her arms with a click of her tongue.

This is the Island of the King, far from my homeland of the Priestess. These uncultured savages wouldn't recognize true nobility if it wore a crown. To think they'd keep me bound just as I escaped?

She gritted her teeth, and as though out of instinct, tried to summon her ice. To break free of her shackles and reassert her rightful position. But when she tried—

"Huh..."

Nothing came.

Her breathing grew ragged, and a sharp pain assaulted her head.

'Why did it not work?'

Had they done something to her, or perhaps she was too sick to use her arcane energy?

She shook her head, trying to think, before being abruptly interrupted by an unexpected touch—

"UNHAND ME, WENCH!!"

Crack.

Anne, who was holding a bowl of crushed herbs, fell to the ground from Rayah's unforeseen outburst. The herbs, ground nearly into liquid, spilled all over the floor.

"WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO TOUCH ME?!" Rayah's voice could have shattered glass.

"Please, my girl... Just drink your medicine... Your fever is reaching dangerous levels..." Anne looked up towards them, smiling, her face brighter than the peaking sun.

"I know you must be frightened. Don't worry! I'll have more prepared very soon! Please be patient!" With a spring in her step, Anne rose to her feet, pacing towards the door.

"It took us three hours to gather those herbs... She ensured everything she picked was perfect just for you... I suggest you drink it or stay sick until it gets worse... Have a little respect... Or at least pretend to... At least until we leave..." Zephyr whispered into her ear. She fought the urge to bite him and responded with a begrudging nod.

She wanted to refute him, to ignore the words of a slave of hers. After all, she was the master and she should know better, but no matter how hard she tried, she always found truth in his words.

Abruptly, the door swung open with a loud creak.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway, his eyes piercing beneath his helm. He wore a worn leather coat and had a sword strapped to his side.

With one hand, he pushed Anne to the side. She held her breath, leaning on the walls, her eyes shaking as she held on tight to the basket in her hands.

"You two. Get up. The village leaders demand your presence immediately. They need to speak with you both now that you're awake."

He gave them no time to react, his eyes narrowing as he stepped further inside.

"Move quickly, and do not make me repeat myself."

Rayah and Zephyr exchanged a glance.

Then, Zephyr stood up, but when Rayah attempted to do the same, she physically couldn't, as though her limbs were made of glass.

Her breathing grew more ragged as her head dropped back down to her mattress.

"She's too weak and sick to come! I beg of you to allow me to come alone. I'll be more than happy and capable of answering any question..."

The man took a moment to himself, letting out a long sigh and responding.

"Fine, the noble girl can rest and recover. Her turn will be soon. But for now, we will get everything we need out of you. Walk in front of me so I can keep watch of you. Do not try anything foolish, or you will regret it."

As they walked out the door, Zephyr felt an unexpected tug on his arm.

"Please... Stay safe..." Anne pleaded, her hands shaking weekly holding onto Zephyr. Although he could not see her face, he knew exactly what it looked like as he gave her his only response:

"I will..."