Cursed Odyssey

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The sound grew louder in Rayah's ears.

She grunted, eyelids lifting slowly. The world came into focus—dust motes dancing above her like distant stars.

Still in bed. Still feeling dead. Once again, she couldn't move. Stuck in this disgusting village, nowhere, far from home.

How long will I be kept prisoner? Is Zephyr not here? Why won't that useless slave tell me anything? What's even happening anymore? Is this my fate? My eternal punishment?

Her teeth clenched, heart racing. But then she breathed deep.

I actually fell asleep last night. That's something, I guess. She sighed, coughing as she burrowed deeper into her sheets.

The door creaked. She didn't react—she knew exactly who it was.

Floorboards groaned under careful steps. Before Rayah could brace herself, a hot gray towel pressed against her forehead. Warmth spread through her sinuses as she sniffled.

"How are you feeling?"

Rayah didn't look at Anne. Didn't have the energy to respond.

Just like in prison—she shut herself out completely, thoughts locked away, waiting for time to pass and this torture to end.

Anne smiled anyway.

Rayah caught the expression from the corner of her eye. She seemed to understand.

"I'm certain a noble lady like yourself is used to much better than this."

Rayah turned away completely, cutting Anne from view.

Anne's smile somehow grew wider.

"I've been crushing your medicine and preparing it all night. It'll be ready later today, I promise. I hope it meets your high standards."

Shut up. The words stayed trapped in Rayah's throat.

"How about another story to cheer you up! I'm certain you're excited to know what happens next!"

Again, Rayah wanted to object. Nothing came out.

"The little prince, the Queen's cute bundle of joy, came to her one day after cursing out the librarian and, as a 'prank,' defecating on the library's sun ro—"

...

---

Rayah Vandymion

Time passed. White morning light turned golden through the windows.

Like clockwork, Anne entered every hour to replace my towel. I didn't resist—just let it happen.

With every towel came a story. Still the same nonsense about that kingdom with the Queen, King, and two children.

I tried blocking them out as usual, but found myself listening anyway.

How would she disgrace noble honour this time? How much crudeness would she weave in, knowing full well who I am?

That family sounded too dysfunctional to be real, yet she made them sound perfect. Utter nonsense.

I suppose it's entertainment while this eventually blows over. I could already imagine the face she makes telling these 'stories.'

That slave Zephyr better have something planned soon.

Floorboards creaked. Right on time.

The door swung open. Gray cloth settled on my forehead, hot against skin.

"How have you been feeling... dearest Rayah..." Her voice shook this time.

I didn't reply, but couldn't help wondering about the sudden shift in tone.

"I've finally finished your medicine. Without little Zephyr's help, it was much harder to prepare. These herbs are rare this season, and especially after you knocked it over last time... I'm truly sorry for making you wait so long, sick and suffering."

I bit my lip, looking away. Don't look down on me! I held back the words.

Medicine? Or poison? She's finally going to do it.

Part of me wanted to reject it, but I remembered Zephyr's words.

Fine. I'll take the medicine. If she wanted me gone, she could have done it long ago considering my state. The leaders probably want me alive after realizing who I am—they'll make sure I live. Want to sell me back to prison, or foolishly ransom me to my household. Once I've recovered and regained my power, I'll simply break out. They'll grovel under my might.

I turned around for the first time, but didn't look at her.

"Open wide!"

*Tsk.*

I obeyed. The wooden spoon reached my mouth and I swallowed.

Bitter, but compared to prison slop, this was bearable.

This better work.

I turned back, resting my head on the pillow, awaiting the inevitable story.

"One day..."

As expected. I mocked inwardly, but her tone... why did it bother me this time?

"It was as sunny and cheerful a day as there ever was. The prince and princess went out to play—not to pick fights with other children, but to climb the tallest tree in the kingdom. He'd been training on smaller trees, doing pull-ups to practice.

The prince was such an eager adventurer. His sister came only to ensure his safety. The King was away attending duties, and the Queen was busy in her sanctuary—her favorite garden.

Though she didn't see the children leave, the princess had informed her the night before about the little prince's plans. The Queen smiled and allowed it, knowing the princess would never let harm come to him. The forest surrounding the kingdom was very safe.

Soon the sky turned yellow, the sun's soothing heat became blistering, and the Queen's breath grew ragged. She wiped her forehead, dirt from the garden streaking her hand.

As she finished her work, realization struck all at once.

They should have been home by now. Her heart thumped, stomach lurching until she wanted to vomit. They sometimes stayed out this late, but this feeling prevailed.

Her mind went to the worst. Could they have fallen? No, my dearest princess would never be so careless! If anything happened to the little prince, she'd come home to tell me!

Suddenly, the King returned home. When he didn't see the children, he scolded the Queen's naive idiocy and, bearing his weapon, stormed out to look for them.

But the sinking feeling in the Queen's stomach only worsened. To her, it wasn't simply intuition. She begged her husband to stay, to call for reinforcements before leaving.

He didn't listen. If anything, he grew angrier. The longer he waited, the longer the children could be in danger.

He left.

The Queen wanted to follow, but her legs gave out. She couldn't force herself to move.

But in the end, she did.

With tears in her eyes, she ran to tell the entire kingdom what happened, begging others to find her husband and children. People looked at her with skepticism—some thought she'd gone mad, or was simply overreacting.

But brave men responded to her plea, setting out into the forest.

A—

An...

And then...

And then...

And then..."

Anne's voice became stuttery, drenched with saliva.

All I could hear now were deep breaths interspersed with cries.

This story was unlike anything she'd told before. How emotional she became... was she mad? The unanswered questions bothered me.

"What happened next..." For the first time, I spoke. My voice came out a dry, croaking rasp.

I asked just to satisfy curiosity.

Long silence. I could imagine the shock on her face to finally hear me speak. Then, slowly, she answered.

"It... has no ending. The story is still ongoing. You can decide how you want it to continue. You, my dearest noble Rayah, and little Zephyr as well."

My eyebrows shot up. What is she on about? Is this a choose-your-own-adventure novel? Has she truly lost her mind? What do any of those goofy stories have to do with me? With reality?

Perhaps my brain was still slow from sickness, but I couldn't make any connection.

I turned my head further away, returning to silence. No point dwelling on it.

Why bother with such a woman's ravings?

Eventually I'll heal. I'll be out of this dung-hole.

Oh high priestess, make this medicine effective. I prayed inwardly and closed my eyes.

"Rest easy, dearest Rayah. I await the day you explode out of bed with infinite energy. So I can finally see your smile. So I can finally see the glow in those eyes."

She realized I wasn't responding and eventually left.

...

...

...

I couldn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling, deadpan, painful throbbing in my head and heart.

How long had time passed?

The towel on my forehead had grown cold. Light from the windows barely seeped in, drenching the room in mellow darkness.

She should have been here by now to replace my towel, but there was no sign of her.

Finally, she took a hint and left me alone.

I couldn't help but smile inwardly.

She ran out of those stupid, ridiculous stories, so she decided not to come anymore. I'm just an outlet to ward off her madness and loneliness. What a sad existence.

I grabbed the towel off my head and threw it on the ground.

I grinned, trying to ignore the pain.

Once again, I tried to sleep.

...

...

...

But I couldn't.

Time had never felt so obscure. It felt motionless, like it even went backwards. My throat burned like lava, nose so clogged I could only take long puffs through my mouth.

But something else bothered me too.

Where is she? Dearest Rayah needs a towel and some water.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself out of bed. Bones cracked as my feet hit the ground. Cold struck all at once. I was the ice princess—used to it—but I still grabbed my blanket, dragging it along.

With all my strength, I waddled out of the room, so slowly the boards didn't even creak.

My first time ever outside that room. Dark, but not so dark I couldn't see.

The house was very... modest. The only non-insult I could award it. Certainly better than a campfire in the woods. Well maintained, spotless even.

Several seats lined the dining table. Toy monsters made of wood sat on a tall shelf out of reach, beside a doll made of fine string and wheat. It looked almost malevolent in this lighting. Not that I cared.

I lost my train of thought. Where is she? Where's water, at least? My throat is killing me!

I continued roaming, running into a toy rocking horse and a pull-up bar near the entrance. I pushed them both away, trying to open the front door.

Locked.

I backtracked, taking the other way from the room.

Eventually, I saw stark light.

A door to the outside, open, allowing moonlight to peek in.

I waddled over and peered through.

There was the outside world.

I saw a large fenced garden. Grass grew wild and untended, but crops still sprouted in the center. They clearly wouldn't last the coming winter days. No wonder she took so long picking that medicine. I realized this as my attention was pulled elsewhere—past the bushes, past the grass, past the crops.

I heard soft murmurs in that moonlit night.

I leaned closer and focused my gaze. There, I finally saw her thin figure.

Anne.

She sat on her knees, arms clasped.

In front of her stood three large stone slabs. They stood out in that green garden like misplaced beacons.

I could barely make out her form, turned away from me, but she seemed to be praying. I could see teardrops falling from her face.

After so long, she was still crying? She must have been here since she left and lost track of time.

My brain was still hazy. Then I saw the corner of her eyes, her twitching lips, and took a closer look at the three stones she prayed to.

The throbbing in my brain intensified. Something shattered.

Only then did I realize my utter stupidity.

Those stories she told were never stories. The Queen, King, Princess, Prince—they were never fictional.

She was the Queen, and those three stones were the dead King, Princess, and Prince. They never came back.

She said it was up to me and Zephyr to decide how the story ended.

She called me 'dearest Rayah' and my slave 'little Zephyr'—same as 'dearest princess' and 'little prince.'

She already saw us as her new children.

And the decision she awaited, the story's conclusion, was whether the Queen would find a new prince and princess, or if they would reject her offer.

Ha... hahaha... WHAT A JOKE!

I walked out of the garden and looked back into the dark interior.

WHAT AN ACTUAL JOKE!

It was so funny, I momentarily forgot all the pain. My joints felt nimble, mind clear. I walked back to my room, forgetting about my thirst and original purpose.

A worm thinks it's fit to have a phoenix as offspring? Comedy has truly peaked!

I jumped back into bed, finally letting out audible laughter.

"Ha! Hahahaha! Ha... ha... ... ... ha..."

"There's no way she's serious... right?"

"After how she spoke to me, she wants me as a daughter? What hints, any daughterly traits could she have possibly misconstrued in my actions?"

"I wonder how her eyes looked in that moment. Maybe I should have gotten closer. Taken a better look."

"Were they filled with love? Or madness?"

I knew in my bones it was the latter.

"Hahaha... ha... What... a joke... *cough* Don't... make... me... laugh..."

The answer would be more than clear tomorrow.

I tucked myself into bed and prayed for good sleep to the high priestess.

But still, there existed a small flicker in those bones of mine.

A possibility.