Thirty years ago - Village of Asrail

The night air was thick with the scent of wood smoke, and the full moon cast a silvery pallor over the cluttered Tudor-style stone houses of Asrail's square. Through the silence of the night, a silver bracelet jingled almost violently on a slender wrist. Its bells chimed sharply and frantically. Nithya Kareth, an Asrailian sorceress, stormed down the uneven cobblestones, the forms of them pressing into the sole of her sandals with each furious step she took.

Her long dark hair flew loose and wild in the chilling breeze, strands blowing along her determined face. She was on a mission. Whispers had slithered through the whole village like the wind itself. They slid through hushed lips to eager ears in a vicious cycle, and they flickered through narrow alleyways usually scented with baking bread and horse manure, reaching her long before the harsh truth could.

She knew. Lumina, help her, she knew.

Once at the destination, the tavern door crashed open beneath Nithya's palm as its hinges groaned and rattled. The air inside the building was heavy with the smell of ale and roasting of meat, while the sound of low conversation faded to silence. Patrons turned to see the new visitor, faces paling with recognition. The beautiful sorceress looked around the room, locating the staircase before sweeping in, her presence slicing through the warmth of the room like Frostreign came early. Nithya passed through the crowd without a second glance. She made her way up the stairs to the bedrooms that the inn rented out as temporary homes. Her sandals smacked onto the worn floorboards of the stairs, the wood groaning under her weight.

As she walked along the hallway upstairs, a woman's low, throaty moan, soft, intimate, and full of pleasure, floated through the air. A man's breathless, foolish-sounding chuckle followed soon after.

At the sound of it, Nithya's vision went red. She didn't rush, though. She walked quietly towards the location. At the suspected bedroom door, she curled her fingers around the knob, inhaled once through clenched teeth, and then threw the door open.

Two screams of alarm split the air.

On a narrow wooden bed centered against the wall of the room lay Nithya's husband, Amuel Kareth, naked and dazed, with his slender arms wrapped around a woman who was not his wife. His brown eyes lifted to Nithya, confusion swimming across features she knew as well as her own reflection. He looked at the woman he was holding, as if he were wondering why she wasn't his wife next to him.

"Nithya?" He stammered. "What are you doing over there?"

He blinked before his gaze dropped to himself, panic starting to draw in. "Why am I here? Where are my clothes?"

Knowing that her husband had been taken advantage of, Nithya stayed quiet, breathing hard as she took in the woman. The woman was now turning slowly. Slender, cream colored skin. Dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Bracelets clattering against her bare wrist. Toa LeSable, one of the most beautiful women in Asrail, met Nithya's blazing green stare without flinching.

"Toa," Nithya spat.

With a cry of outrage and the last threat of restraint shattered, Nithya launched her body forward, her hands clawing at the younger woman with a ferocity that sent the blankets flying and shook the tavern walls. As Amuel rolled over to the side, Toa screamed and scrambled backwards, slipping free of the bed and then bolting for the door, naked except for her jangling jewelry.

Nithya was faster. She caught a fistful of Toa's hair and yanked back hard enough to steal a breath from the woman's lungs.

"You dare come after my husband?" Nithya snarled in anger. "My husband, you vile little..."

The women tumbled down the tavern stairs together in a storm of limbs, screams, and curses. Nithya managed to connect her ring-covered fist with Toa’s mouth, splitting her lip slightly, ignoring her cry of pain. They crashed to the bottom floor, and then the altercation spilled out into the village square. At the commotion, lanterns flared to life. Doors flew open. Asrail woke to spectacle and fury beneath the moon.

Everyone in the village knew of both women. Toa, beautiful and reckless, unashamed of her promiscuous reputation. Nithya, stunning and volatile, her magic being as sharp as her temper.

Toa managed to scramble upright, still naked and trembling from cold and humiliation. Someone nearby threw her a cloak, which she snatched and wrapped around herself. The growing crowd formed a circle, with each woman standing across from the others, staring them down. 

“Nithya, please,” Toa started, shaking her head. “I didn’t know he was—”

“That he was married?” Nithya cut in abruptly. “Don’t you insult me. You’ve been circling him for weeks. You were prowling for a man that wasn’t yours.” After a pause, Nithya narrowed her eyes. “I know exactly what you did.” 

Toa stiffened.

“You gave him Heart’s Flare, Toa.” Nithya revealed, her voice ringing clear through the square. At Toa’s blink, she continued, “You thought I wouldn’t realize it? That potion is forbidden for a reason in Asrail.” 

A ripple of shocked murmurs and gasps moved through the crowd. Heart’s Flare was no simple potion. It bent devotion into obsession and stripped the victim of will. They all now knew what Nithya did. Amuel had been taken advantage of. 

For a heartbeat, panic flickered over Toa’s face. But then she smoothed it away, lifting her chin in defiance. 

“He wanted me. I know he did.” She said coolly. “Just as much as I wanted him.” 

Amuel looked crushed, but Nithya's eyes narrowed even farther to slits. “Lies,” she replied. “Amuel would never want a whore such as you.” 

Toa adjusted the clock she wore, irritation flashing in her eyes. “If that’s the case, why did he follow me here?” she asked as if the fact that she gave him a potion went right over her head. “Face it, Nithya. You weren’t enough to keep him close to you.” 

The air shifted. 

Nithya glanced over at Amuel as if to confirm Toa’s words, and at the sight of his broken face, her rage sharpened into something colder and more precise. The breeze died, and clouds slid over the moon, dimming its glow as magic gathered around the sorceress like a living thing. Her eyes now looked down at her hand, still slightly covered in Toa’s blood from earlier.

Nithya glanced over at Amuel as if to confirm Toa’s words, and at the sight of his broken face, her rage sharpened into something colder and more precise. The breeze died, and clouds slid over the moon, dimming its glow as magic gathered around the sorceress like a living thing. Her eyes now looked down at her hand, still slightly covered in Toa’s blood from earlier. 

Her eyes sliced up to Toa, who was standing with people behind her. 

“You stole my husband’s will,” she said softly. “And you boast of it.” Green light sparked along her skin, bright as venom. “Then hear me well, Toa LeSable. I curse you.” 

Toa’s mocking smile faltered. The men and women behind her shifted away from her as soon as the word curse was spoken. 

"I curse you with attraction," Nithya declared, her finger pointed out toward her. "The beauty you wield so carelessly will betray you. Every man who looks upon you, as well as every daughter born from your line, will feel the pull. Relentless. Dangerous." The sound of thunder rolled low across the sky as the moon vanished completely behind clouds and shadows. Wind blew hair to the side as Toa kept Nithya's gaze.

"Let your mistake haunt your bloodline," Nithya said. "You opened your legs to my unknowing husband. Now suffer a lifetime of men clawing after you, whether you desire them to or not."  Her green eyes seemed to flash in finality. Fear scattered the crowd; Doors slammed, and shutters closed. Everyone knew not to linger beneath a curse spoken under a full moon. Toa laughed, though her voice shook.

“Whatever you say, crazy woman. Take your weak husband and go. He wasn’t worth the trouble anyway.” 

Amuel shook his head, still confused by the shame on his face. Nithya turned to him with concern, wondering how deeply the spell had a hold on him. He looked in her eyes while swaying slightly. "My wife... I don't remember. I truly don't. I—"

"I know," she murmured while cupping his face. "It wasn't your doing. Come, let's return home and get you feeling better." She grabbed her husband's hand as she continued, "Let us leave the doomed woman to her fate." Nithya then led Amuel away, but her gaze never left Toa until the last moment. What lingered within her intense eyes was not pity but certainty.

Toa looked around as she was left alone in the square beneath the darkened sky. She clutched the borrowed cloak, unaware that something devastating had already taken root inside of her blood.

Two days passed by before Toa dared to venture within the crowded heart of Asrail again. After getting dressed, she wrapped herself in a deep green cloak, the soft material drifting against her top and skirt. The morning light filtered pale and cold through a thin mist lingering around the village.

In the village, the streets were alive with the sounds of cattle, the rhythmic sounds of a blacksmith's hammer and the sweet aroma of bread baking fresh rising from the bakery nearby. Toa moved through the street quickly, her head bowed and her shoes scuffing on the damp cobblestones. Two days passed by before Toa dared to venture within the crowded heart of Asrail again. After getting dressed, she wrapped herself in a deep green cloak, the soft material drifting against her top and skirt. The morning light filtered pale and cold through a thin mist lingering around the village. 

In the village, the streets were alive with the sounds of cattle, the rhythmic hammer of a blacksmith, and the sweet aroma of bread baking fresh, rising from the bakery nearby. Toa moved through the street quickly, her head bowed and her shoes scuffing on the damp cobblestones. Her senses were sharp; she could feel the prickling of watchful eyes on her back, and voices hushing along the wind as she passed by. The village felt altered ever since that night. The air was tight and expectant, pressing against her chest. 

She blamed Nithya.

For making her a spectacle, for giving her that humiliation that still burned salt within a wound.

She blamed the sorceress for it all. 

Toa knew curses weren’t real. Magic existed in the world, of course — spells for healing, or for harvest — but curses belonged to superstition. Old tales told by firelight to frighten small children with crackling flames and shadows. Toa refused to believe that she had been marked by nothing more than an unfortunate night.

Despite that, she decided to avoid men’s eyes. The memory of that night was still bitter-tasting on her tongue. 

Craving quiet, Toa headed for the well located behind the bakery. She wanted the cool splash of water and the simple relief of a drink to soothe her parched throat, but more than anything, she wanted a moment to breathe without the weight of stares from her fellow Asrailians. 

In the area, four men were already standing in a line, holding buckets of water. There was a shepherd in a wool cloak, a baker’s apprentice with cheeks dusted in flour, and two farmers. They all had familiar faces; neither one of them had ever shown more than a casual interest in Toa. They usually just gave her a nod or a polite word.

The moment that Toa stepped quietly into the clearing, all four men looked up at once. Their gazes locked onto her, but not with the warm spark of flirtation. It was a raw, glassy hunger in their gazes that made her skin crawl immediately. 

Toa’s breath caught, sharp and cold in her lungs. However, she pushed herself forward, thinking that what she felt was just her imagination.

“Morning,” she muttered, her voice barely noticeable. No one replied. The silence around everyone stretched. It was thick and unnatural, broken by heavy breathing.

The shepherd then stepped closer, his boots scraping the ground. “Toa,” he said thickly, his voice strained like a pulled bowstring. “You look beautiful today.” Before she could respond, her head whipped to the right when someone else moved.

“Beautiful,” the baker’s apprentice echoed, flour more noticeable as he shifted.

The two farmers nodded in eerie agreement. Their eyes were unblinking, pupils wide in the morning light.

Cold dread slid down Toa’s spine like ice-cold water. It couldn't be.

“No,” she whispered, fear metallic on her tongue. “No, this is ridiculous.” She kept trying to tell herself to calm her mind, but the fear was gathering like pressure in her lungs.

She lifted her chin, having seen her limit. “Thank you, but enough. Go on with your day.”

The men didn’t move. Toa noticed their muscles tensed beneath rough clothing.

One of the farmers reached for her arm, fingers trembling yet insistent as if he just had to touch her in some way. His calluses were rough against her sleeve as he regarded her. “Look at me. Just look at me.” 

Toa wrenched her arm out of his grasp as another man stepped closer. The sweat and soil scent on him was overwhelming. “Please, Toa. Let me talk to you.” 

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” the shepherd said to her, his face tight with strain, veins standing out all around his neck.  

Hot panic replaced the cold dread instantly.

“What is wrong with you all?” Toa demanded, her voice cracking as she backed away from them. Gravel shifted under her shoes.

The men followed, their steps heavy and unrelenting.

Extremely frightened by this turn of events, Toa whirled around and ran.

She sprinted within Asrail, first through narrow alleys that reeked of refuse and rain-soaked wood and then out into the main square. Villagers gaped at her antics. The men stumbled after her, their boots pounding while calling out her name. Their voices were twisted; they sounded holy and terrible at the same time. They were as fervent as prayer yet laced with desperation.

Toa finally ducked into a narrow street that seemed quite shadowed, pressing her back against the cold, rough stone of a building that scraped through her cloak. She clamped a hand over her mouth, letting out muffled, ragged breaths as footsteps thundered past her, frantic ones as male voices echoed her name into the mist.

Her legs gave out after their voices drifted away. Toa slid down the wall, collapsing onto the chilly ground that went through her clothing. Nithya’s words echoed mercilessly in her mind then, thundering louder than any pursuit.

Every man who looks upon you…

Every daughter born from your bloodline…

Devastated, Toa buried her face in her trembling hands, tears pouring hot and salty down her cheeks and onto her lips.

“No,” she whispered then into the silence. “No, no, no…” 

It was a cold realization. Curses were indeed real.

Toa realized that, and she realized that she had doomed more than herself. However, she did not yet understand how far the curse would reach, or how deeply it had already woven itself into her blood, pulsing through her entire being with every frantic beat of her heart.