Cursed

Prologue

Cursed

Prologue

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a lord in an enormous manor that stood deep within a dark forest. He owned much land and governed a small town. All who lived on this land had to pay him heavy taxes while working long hours for very small wages. Many of the townspeople could not afford new clothing and proper amounts of food. They could not afford to have a doctor in town and the lord refused to supply one, so they turned to a witch by the name Miranda, who became known as the town healer.

Miranda was an astoundingly beautiful young woman of many hundreds of years. She kept her appearance strictly between the ages of ten and thirty depending on what kind of mood she was in and the situations she was working with. She was a very skilled healer and an extremely powerful witch.

When the Black Plague swept through the village the witch watched with sad eyes as families she had known for generations dropped one by one. She was busier than ever, caring for the sick, but not even she could keep the Black Death from spreading.

One particularly busy night, one of the lord's servant boys with long blonde curls falling into his eyes came knocking on her door. He was breathing hard and had run all the way from the manor. He told her that the lord had caught the Death and that she was ordered immediately to him.

She had many dying patients to tend to and viewed their lives higher than that of the selfish old lord but the boy in front of her would surely be thrown to the streets if he returned without her. So she called her long cloak, which slid itself over her waves of red and held out her hand for the boy.

The boy took her hand and waited. Nothing happened. He expected the healer to say an incantation, or something but she stood motionless, staring straight ahead and didn't even walk towards the door. He looked up at her and watched as nothing happened. When he looked away he found that he was standing in front of the iron gate of the manor.

He blinked a few times, not believing his eyes. Then the gate began to creak open on its own. He was not accustomed to magic and was frightened. The healer must have sensed this for she squeezed his hand and told him not to worry.

He led her through the gate and down the long path, up the steps and stopped at the door. He knocked as hard as he could and they waited to be admitted.

Miranda knew she could easily have let herself in but decided that at a time like this she would rather be polite. Besides, every moment wasted waiting outside the manor door was another moment she could have been saving the lord's life, which truth be told, she did not care to save.

The boy by her side was thirteen, she knew this from the thirteen years worth of memories that his bones whispered to her about. They also told her he was infected. She made a promise to herself that she would tend to him as soon as she was through with the lord.

The large wooden doors were opened not by a servant but by the lord's only son. He offered her his arm and she reluctantly took it, abandoning the frightened boy by the door. He led her through the enormous house and she would have liked to admire it but she was overwhelmed by the story his bones whispered.

The young man's name was Daurien. He was a spoiled brat and cared nothing for the people in the town below. He lived a life of luxury, fancy foods, expensive wines, and the finest fashions from overseas. And women. Every night since he had turned fourteen, Daurien had gone into town and lured a poor girl to his manor with his good looks and a promise of a full five course meal. Then after she was bathed, fed and content, he would pay her to spend the night in his chamber.

Miranda did not need her witchcraft to know this. It was common knowledge that the lord's son was making half the townswomen harlots. Bones only ever whisper memories, not feelings, so she could not know whether he was truly cruel or if he felt remorse. She found the saying, “feel it in my bones,” ridiculous but cared not to find out whence it came from, though she surely could.