Cursed Odyssey

Lord Adrian stepped into the predawn chill and did a quick prayer as he did every morning. The village slept in peaceful silence, with few earlier risers he'd come to know by name. He paused, studying the faces of his people.

On the surface, everything appeared normal. Beneath it, he caught something different—a sparkle in their eyes, hope mixed with anticipation.

For now, at least, there's peace. The thought felt fragile against the weight of what he knew was coming.

Adrian drew a deep breath of cold air and set off toward the Holy House of Luud, his cane tapping against cobblestone. The mundane scene almost let him forget about the approaching apocalypse.

Almost.

"I must begin preparations," he murmured.

The Holy House's weathered doors opened at his push. Aged wood and incense welcomed him as he walked briskly toward his office, but his steps faltered at the entrance.

Two letters lay on the ground before his door.

One bore the pristine insignia of the village guard. The other was blackened and singed, its edges curled as if touched by fire. Adrian's eyes narrowed as he bent to retrieve them.

"Two?" He'd expected one—Grati's report on the outsider, Joseph. The second was unaccounted for, and its appearance unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain.

His hand brushed the gray stubble of his chin as he straightened, scanning the empty hall. The quiet no longer felt serene.

Focus. He dismissed the creeping unease and entered his office.

Sunlight filtered through the narrow window, illuminating dust motes in the air. Adrian placed both letters on his desk and reached for the familiar one first.

---

Lord Adrian,

I write to update you on the outsider, Joseph, as per your orders. The boy has proven... unconventional. Despite the distrust surrounding his arrival, he has immersed himself in village life with surprising ease. Though he seemed shy and reserved at first, he has an undeniable talent for conversation. I did not expect him to win over so much trust so easily.

He's introduced novel farming methods—crop rotation, irrigation, and composting—which already show promise in the test plots. From what I observed, we could expect at least double our usual output. The blacksmiths speak of his insights, claiming he has refined their forges and tools with techniques that seem almost otherworldly. Even the weavers have taken note of his suggestions for improving looms.

Yet it is not merely his knowledge that stands out. His demeanor is curious: polite but sharp, humble yet exuding a confidence that unnerves some villagers. Especially the Zotts, who are not fond of his arrival. Unlike the humans, they avoid and curse him at every turn.

He works tirelessly, though I suspect it is not purely out of altruism. Whatever his motives, the results are undeniable. He has brought progress to our village in ways none could have anticipated. If this is what he has accomplished in a mere day, I wonder what he would do in a week.

I am beginning to see the wisdom behind your decision to let him roam free. You are truly 100 steps ahead, my lord…

Though I will not let my guard down—after all, he is the cursed outsider. With the blessing of the great ancestor, I will dispel any evil and never let him out of my sight.

Grati

---

Adrian's lips twitched into an unexpected smile as he set the letter down. If Grati's observations were accurate, the boy's presence might not be entirely a curse. Improvements like these could elevate the village— perhaps they'd never spend another winter hungry.

"Well, I'll be damned." He chuckled. "No wonder so many smiles this morning. A taboo turned into an asset. A necessary evil, indeed."

Let's see how far we can push this. The Zotts' animosity was expected—I'll have to smooth that out soon.

The levity died as his gaze fell to the second letter. Its charred appearance seemed to whisper a disturbance. Adrian's smile faded, his hand hovering over the blackened paper.

The scrawled text was barely legible, but he made out the key words:

"Open by the lie detector... and recite this prayer:"

Oh, Keeper of Truth, unveil what is hidden. By the light of the forgotten gods, guide my hand, guide my voice, guide my path.

Adrian's breath caught. Blood seemed to flow backward through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to burn the letter, but he couldn't afford to ignore it.

Damn it all.

He rose and walked to the cabinet where the lie detector orb was kept. Its crystalline surface gleamed as he placed it on the desk beside the blackened letter. His hands trembled slightly.

"Oh, Keeper of Truth, unveil what is hidden. By the light of the forgotten gods, guide my hand, guide my voice, guide my path."

The orb's glow intensified, casting eerie shadows across the room. The letter twitched, its edges curling further as if reacting to the invocation. Adrian watched, heart pounding, as the writing rearranged itself into something new.

The words came to life.

Light vanished from the window as if swallowed by an unseen void. Dawn's warmth faded into cold emptiness, and all sound disappeared, leaving eerie silence. Adrian's breath hitched as shadows curled unnaturally around his legs, gathering at the room's center.

A figure formed from the very fabric of gloom.

The shadowy form was barely illuminated by the lie detector's faint glow. Its outline shifted and writhed like smoke caught in phantom wind—impossible to define clearly.

Adrian's legs trembled. His hand instinctively reached for his cane, gripping it for support. He was frozen, lips parting in a silent gasp.

This isn't a meeting I prepared for. Yet he knew instinctively what this entity was. Summoning his will, he straightened, fighting to maintain the dignity expected of the village's human leader.

The figure stirred, acknowledging his efforts.

"At ease, Adrian." The voice came smooth yet hollow, like whispers echoing from a deep cavern.

It can see me? Sense me? Even in this darkness? Adrian swallowed hard and nodded.

"I am from the prison. As you may have suspected." The words carried weight. "Do not worry. You are under no duress, nor are you in any trouble. This is but a formality we are performing with all surrounding villages. So please, be at ease."

Adrian exhaled shakily, forcing his hammering heart to slow. "Very well."

The figure tilted its head—fluid, unnatural movement. "Recently, a catastrophe struck, and our prison lies in ruins. The prisoners have escaped." The weight of those words hung in the air. "I do not have much time, so I will ask you plainly: Have you come across any unknown children recently?"

Adrian's pulse quickened. He'd known the question would come, yet his chest tightened as he prepared to respond. He reached out, hand trembling, and placed it firmly on the lie detector orb. Its warmth steadied him.

"Yes," he said finally, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "A young boy and a girl are in our custody."

The shadow paused, studying him. Its gaze—or what Adrian imagined to be a gaze—felt like weight pressing down on his soul.

"What are their names? Our highest priority is locating boys named Arthur and Zephyr."

Adrian shook his head. "The ones we harbor are called Rayah and Joseph. I have confirmed this matter with the lie detector prior." The orb glowed bright, signifying truth.

"Rayah?" The shadow's eyes—or what Adrian assumed were its eyes—seemed to glisten briefly.

"Rayah Vandymion is also a great priority to us. Very well. We shall come tomorrow to collect them. Keep this matter secret from them—you never know how they might react. Worry not, for we shall handle it without trouble."

"Understood." Adrian's voice cracked slightly. "Do you have any other questions? I would be honored to answer."

The shadow wavered, its edges dissolving into gloom. "My time in this form is brief. I have learned all I needed. I shall take my leave... and see you tomorrow."

The figure dissolved entirely, leaving no trace. Light poured back through the window, and the sounds of the waking world resumed. Yet the room felt colder, heavier, as though the shadow had left behind an unseen weight.

Adrian collapsed into his chair, hand clutching his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his wide eyes stared blankly ahead.

"Why couldn't I say anything?" he whispered. "We need them... for the sacrifice. To the ancient Lagos. And yet..."

Perhaps these prison guards could lend us aid. They want Rayah and Joseph, but they can help us rid the land of Lagos. Surely, it's a fair exchange.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips, growing louder until it turned into strained laughter. He dried his sweating hands on his robe before covering his face, shoulders shaking.

"Oh, ancestors," he muttered, voice trembling as he pressed a hand to his left eye. "What do you think of me now? Am I truly this desperate? Asking for the help of outsiders yet again?"

I must be a complete failure. But I will salvage this… no… I must…