"You said that I will have a daughter," Tella said.
"Your daughter will be born with a very powerful gift. But this child will have one fatal weakness."
-Finale by Stephanie Garber
This is a fanfiction! Please read both the Caraval trilogy and the O...
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I don't think I've ever run this hard in my lifetime. My uselessly short legs are throbbing as they push me down the street.
I must retrieve it. I think the outcome of my childhood might depend on this.
No, I don't think, I know.
I sprint past clothing stores and carts selling candied apples that smell dancing on top of clouds. God's teeth, one of those scrumptious little goodies would be amazing right now.
I almost stop for one, but what will I do with myself if I fail this mission? I remind myself that I would be betraying my childhood, betraying The Archer if I failed to retrieve the treasure. I can feel the child in me creeping up and spilling through my laughter as I continue to run as fast as I possibly can down the aisle.
I don't even care that I look ridiculous in a one size too large men's vest and pants. I couldn't possibly run in the gowns that my father has bought me, nor do I wish that I could. No matter how pretty I think they are, they are far too itchy.
As I run, my thoughts wander. It has been 3 months since I've moved out of the palace, and I feel so, so free. I don't have to be on my best behavior, and I don't need to worry about accidentally sending things flying down the hallways when I'm daydreaming. On top of that, no one around here really knows my name or who I am- as I am of no real importance to Scarlett's reign. I do miss my father though. I've never been as close with my mother as I am with Legend. When I think of him, I become just slightly homesick, but he visits me often, so it's not too dreadful.
Almost there.
My thoughts are cut off when I'm aware how close I am becoming to my destination. The mystery man is in sight. That must be him! I can feel my braid coming undone as I rush to get to him as fast as I can. I'm taken aback that there isn't anyone around, crowding around the man for a copy of the The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox. Am I the only one who received a letter?
No one knows the truth of what happened to the fox, but I must know. I need to, I need to, I need to. I can only just hope that this man isn't lying when he says he knows what happened to the fox, that he has a copy of the book with a truthful ending.
As I draw nearer, I take in the man's appearance. An olive green cravat with a rather messy looking matching vest paired with rich, jet black pants. A few inches too tall, broad shoulders, pale skin, muscled arms–
Pink hair.
What an oddity. I've never seen anyone with a hair color like that. Is it fake? Dyed hair? But who would want a shade of pink like that–
I'm panting and my face is flushed as I finally stop in front of the man, who now seeing him closer, appears to be around my age. I reach my hand out in front of him, gesturing for him to hand over the book.
