Cursed

Prologue

As the wind slapped his skin on an unforgiving chilly night, ten-year-old Hans Nox fought his way through the stinging branches of Barren Wood to reach the clearing in time. A fierce howl swarmed through the trees and filled his ears, but he paid it no mind. Hans was used to nightmarish things: things many in their realm thought to be mere myth or legend. But for the boy, whose hair and eyes matched the darkness that followed him wherever he went, this was a good thing. Hans fashioned himself an apprentice to both the darkness and the light, so he had to study each carefully. Twigs snapped beneath his feet until he made it to the clearing in the woods is mother had summoned him to. Moonlight flooded the circular area while the rest of the forest remained dark – likely his mother's doing.

Then, he saw her standing by the cauldron as it bubbled brilliantly above the crackling fire. She wore a dress layered in black and red. In her hand, she held a raven, petting it gently as an evil smile creased her lips. She curled her fingers around the black bird's beck and twisted it. Squawk! Crack! The sound of the bird's crushed bones echoed through the night. Then, she tore away a clump of feathers and tossed the carcass into a nearby bush as a dark, red liquid gushed over her hands.

"Why are you doing this, mother?" Hans asked, pulling himself onto a tall tree stump overlooking the cauldron. With his feet dangling back and forth, he watched her carefully and waited for an answer.

Without a word, his mother lifted her bloody hand above the brew. Then, she slowly dropped one feather into the brew at a time, which bubbled and smoked with ferocity until they had all been added. Moments later, the hot liquid faded back to a quiet boil. "I owe it to my sister's memory and to the peace of this realm," she said, her sharp glare focusing on him for a moment.

From her pocket, she pulled out a smooth, round mid-sized stone and gripped it tightly. It was dark green and glowing. It could have been from the moonlight or the light of the fire, but Hans knew differently. The colors emerged from a place of magic. He frowned, attempting to make sense of his mother's words. "But I thought the curse was to be lifted nevermore?"

She glared at him again then when he thought she'd shoot him with a spell to punish his defiance, she turned back to the brew and barked out a laugh. The terrifying sound raised goosebumps on his skin, but he knew what she needed next. Without waiting to be asked, Hans slid off the high stump and walked over to his mother, who opened her palm in anticipation of his approach. From his pocket, he extracted the small purple root he'd just retrieved from the deepest part of the woods and held it out her.

As the root disappeared into the clutch of her hand and sharp fingernails, she smiled at him and shook her head. "A curse can always be lifted, but I will not allow that. I cannot allow that."

Then, she raised her hand above the cauldron and let the root fall from her grasp. As it slipped into the liquid below, a large cloud of smoke emitted from it, filling the entire clearing with a faint green mist. Hans looked up, unsure of what to say or do, but when he set his focus back on his mother he noticed that the stone held in her opposite hand changed to black.

A flock of ravens burst from the trees as steam from the brew climbed into the sky.

"As long as this stone remains black, we can be certain that Stephanie Thorne will die-without true love, or happiness."