The Cursed Mother

Three

Achilles had grown into a fine young man, she supposes as she kneels on her meditation rug. The favored doctor for minor ailments, though he still brought several patients to her if he couldn't heal them himself.

...

He wasn't around the temple as often, anymore. That's fine, she supposes, she was rarely here when they first arrived as well— but he often followed her along when she traveled the mountain paths.

She had grown used to isolation, so why does her son staying out appear to upset her so?

Her brows furrow above her closed eyes as she thinks.

...

...

. . .

She doesn't know why it bothers her.

Strange, she's always been relatively good at understanding her own emotions, so why can't she understand this instance?

...

She'll figure it out later.

"Mother?"

Her son's voice echoes throughout the chamber, and she hums inquisitively in response. Lavender fills her nose, the candles always leaving the scent to soothe those within the temple.

She feels Achilles glide through the room, coming to kneel across from her on the Visitor's rug.

She waits.

He does not speak.

...

"Something troubles you, my child?" She asks, opening her eyes.

She cannot see him, but she can feel the distressed curl of his magic— even as he tries to drag it back in.

She tilts her head, curious.

"Achilles?"

"...the western dragons have been growing closer, Mother. With them come the Dragon Slayers."

"The Dragon Slayers...yes, I've had visions of them. They are an honorable group, my child, they do not slay innocent civilians."

"How do we know they will remain honorable?" His voice is strained, disgusted, "When they haven't been able to stop them from spreading?"

"The War would've spread a lot faster without the Dragon Slayers." She reminds him, "They have several Slayers with sharp minds for tactics, and one with a mind so clear and fast that she can think of nearly every possible outcome. Why, I've heard she had a thousand unique plans for every battle they face."

Achilles clicked his tongue, "If she's so smart, why is the War spreading?"

"Because," she says firmly, "They're still humans fighting Dragons. They have been trained to kill Dragons, but they're still human. Remember, my boy, that Dragons are far larger, far stronger, than humans. It takes a special type of person to be willing to do what they do."

Her boy is silent for a moment, "Right, mother. I apologize for my outburst."

"It is fine to be afraid, Achilles," Casandera says, quieter than before, "Even I am concerned by the visions I have been experiencing."

"Is something going to happen?" He says, concerned, "Are you alright?"

"I am fine, my child," she soothes, "And nothing will occur that hasn't already. Go, my son, I know Acnologia awaits your arrival. It'd be rude to keep him waiting."

"...Yes, Mother." She hears him say, "I will return by nightfall."

He leaves. She stays.

She sees...

Burning rumble.

A hundred corpses.

Her son staring.

Her own dead body.

Achilles holding her corpse, wailing into her chest.

A burning fury not her own.

A black dragon bearing the marks of a curse.

The bodys of thousands, dragon and human alike.

A man she doesn't recognize, bathing in their blood.

She comes back to herself with a quiet, halting inhale. One of her hands reaches up, closing around her amulet, the other holds tightly to her cane.

She takes another deep breath, allowing her body to relax as much as possible as she thinks.

The city will burn.

Her son will mourn.

...she will die.

And, with a teary laugh that turns into a cackle, she thinks, Finally!

Perhaps it's cruel of her, to keep this vision a secret, to be willing to let everyone around her die so that she dies too. To hold an event, one that will occur so soon, close to her chest and tell no one.

Perhaps it's selfish of her to be so happy that she will die and leave her son to mourn...but she can't help it.

Casandera has lived a long, long time.

She's glad she won't outlive the boy she raised.