Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 6

A tide of unbelievable reality crashed over me, sparked by the finality of a stray arrow. As if the realization that the apple was somewhere in my backpack wasn't perilous enough; I had lost it to a random goblin.

Monday’s luck had seeped into a whole new level, proclaiming itself to ruin my life.

How did a goblin even manage to get close enough to steal from me? I had always thought they couldn't get their hands in secure places, but was my chest so secure?

“How did I let this happen?” I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. “I mean, seriously, what was I expecting? It’s not like goblins have a reputation for subtlety.”

As the absurdity of my predicament sunk in, I got concerned with the fact that Phoebi’s loose lips might have triggered this entire mess.

“Who did you tell?!” I demanded, my voice dripping with venom as I turned to Phoebi, narrowing my eyes like a dog whose tail had just been stepped on.

Phoebi raised her hands defensively. “No one,” she stammered, but the tremor in her voice suggested otherwise.

My expression screamed disbelief. It was the same look a teacher gives a student who claims to have ‘forgotten’ their homework.

With a simmering anger, I reminded myself that she was the one who had insisted we take the cursed item in the first place. “What did I do to deserve this?!” I thought, burning with frustration. “I should have just stuck to leaving when I had the chance to.”

Just as my thoughts spiraled deeper into the chaos, Zuina, sensing the tension rising like a loaf of bread left too long in the oven, interjected. “Hey, no fighting today! I’ve already had enough suspensions to fill a scrapbook,” she muttered, stretching her arms between us. “What are you even fighting about?”

My eyes did all the talking. Phoebi leaned in closer to Zuina and whispered about it—the black apple.

Surprise flickered across Zuina’s face, the kind usually reserved for someone who had just stepped on a LEGO in the dark. “Are you two mad?” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

At least she hadn’t missed some history lessons. She knew all too well the repercussions brought on by that piece of diabolical fruit we’d stumbled upon.

The tales of our world were shadowed by a tumultuous history, where the dawn of a new era had kicked off with the departure of the great Neporian. Nightmares, those terrible manifestations of our fears, were known for bringing all kinds of trouble. Their motives were as diabolical as a cat plotting revenge on its owner—far more horrifying than just bloodshed.

Legends shrouded most of what happened in the medieval ages, but one thing was certain: blood had painted Ellialand just enough to trigger rage in the twelve witches of flames and ice, who were as fiery as they were frigid.

To better Ellialand, nightmares had to be eradicated—seized from existence. The witches were experts in that field.

Until great philosophers, witch doctors, and other learned types devised the universal elixir, nightmares had been ostracized and executed on sight. The ashes of the Neporian were rumored to be the major ingredient, but not many were acquainted with the elixir—not even in the recent century.

But once you saw it, life never went back to being the same.