*Book One of The Accursed Chronicles*
August was a man from a normal world, living a mundane life until one night everything changed, and he was sent spiraling into a world stuck forever in winter, full of magic, creatures, and a curse that has grip...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
After a day of being confined to my bed against my will, I had finally had enough and had ventured out into the main room. Saint had sighed in disapproval, August had tried to talk me back into bed, while Leuthar had watched from a distance, knowing that I would do whatever I had wanted regardless of others opinions, even August's. We'd wasted enough time wallowing over me when they could've spent it on better things.
I'd forced them to tell me what had happened, and it had been nothing I could've prepared myself for. Altair had schemed with Miltos and Isolde to have their help in murdering Magnus, to give Altair the authority of being sole king of Krak. A domino effect had occurred, and more deaths had come than what had been expected. Arethusa had taken her own life, Eirith had been murdered by Judd, and Endora had been killed by Cassian. Daesa, as accounted by August, had had her head taken from her body and had been displayed to both of them by Atticus. Last by not least, it had appeared that Lara—a servant of Eirith's as told to me by August—had become a valeman or something of the sorts and had been chanting the same thing over and over again. August hadn't been able to tell me what it had been and Leuthar didn't know.
Outraged had been an understatement for me when I had heard the retelling of two nights ago.
Yet, instead of figuring out the state of Darrose and how the news was being taken in Krak, they had been here, doing nothing. If it weren't for my recovery and setting them back on track, they would've gotten nowhere.
It truly made me realize how hopeless they would've been without me and made me grateful that I hadn't succumbed to the poison.
"Other than finding out that Altair blamed us for the deaths of Magnus and Arethusa and has posted fines for our capture, there is nothing else you can tell me?" I asked in frustration, looking to Leuthar who was leaned against the wall beside the hearth, then August whose eyes were on his feet and hands were in his pockets.
When I had taken a seat in the chair in front of the hearth, Saint had left to deliver medicine to people he had promised over a day ago. It left me with the pitiful two that I had hoped would've done more in their efforts to get to the bottom of what was happening in Krak and between Miltos, Altair, and Isolde. They'd lied down and taken the blame for murders that hadn't been committed by us and had hidden away in secret rather than stand firm. Of course, I hadn't expected them to show their faces in public or go straight to the magistrate, but I had expected more.
Leuthar shook his head in dismay. "August never left you; Saint was too busy mixing your antidotes, and I couldn't go out without the risk of being recognized. I didn't want to lead anyone back to us, not with you in the state you were in."
"What do I matter?" I sat forward in the chair, eyes narrowed, and frustration coursing through my veins. "What would've been the point of my survival if we knew nothing of Darrose, Altair's moves, or Miltos's damned role in all of us? What if I had died, what would you have done then?" I clenched my jaw, to prevent a further tongue lashing, but they needed to learn. "Think about it, the both of you, because the second you stop acting and began wallowing in your pitiful fucking despair is the second that we all die."
