The Cursed Insignia

Prologue

The Cursed Insignia ©

G.A. Garcia

Copyright 2010

Prologue

“What is the meaning of this, Sasha?” A woman wailed as the door finally broke open after many failed attempts earlier on. She kneeled beside an unmoving body in the middle of the room, and began to weep.

“What have you done? What have you done?” She repeated this like a mantra, her cries getting louder each time, until she was shrieking hysterically.

The woman stood up, realising that if she didn’t do something, everything would be too late.

If Sasha had practiced forbidden magic, the only solution was to counter it with the same thing. Though in this case, she can only try and see if it would work. She saw no reason to resist. For a child’s happiness, a mother would undeniably be willing to die a million deaths.

The woman swept her hand across the table that was filled with bottles and containers, in search of something, until she found what she was looking for. Taking the bottle of black powder, she began walking around the room in a pattern, with the lid of the bottle uncapped, leaving the powder in her trail. The pattern converged in one point after she was done, towards the dead body.

With that, she started chanting loudly. Although she hadn’t practiced Alchemy ever since she got married and begun a new life, she had been the best alchemist once, a long time ago. Instantly, the powder began to glow a blinding yellow, and she felt her life force seep out of her veins at an alarming rate. Life sacrifice was one way to heighten any spell, whether you’re a priestess, magician, wizard, or an alchemist. The woman lost all strength in her soon after and smiled when she thought that death was finally claiming her.

She knew that what she had done earlier was already too late when her eyes flew open to find out that she had not been transported to hell. She was in the same room.

The woman began weeping again while she buried her face in her hands; feeling like a complete and utter failure, knowing that she had failed her son. And that was when she felt that her left cheek wasn’t damp with tears. She looked up, and her vision was different. She looked around, and the powder had turned scarlet red, instead of completely disappearing.

That was when the woman stood up and exited the room. Her energy was replenished by this new-found hope. Though the spell wasn’t a hundred percent success, there was the tiniest chance, no matter how small the fragment, she was willing to wait and see. The woman had lost the ability to see or cry with her left eye, and this meant partial success. And black had turned to red too.

I jerked awake. Fear consumed every part of me. The dream had felt so real. One second I was an audience as the events in the dream unfolded, and the next I was looking into an unfamiliar set of hands that were soaked with tears. I had felt everything she felt, her fear, dread, misery.

The crying and wailing of the unknown woman reverberated in my head even after the dream ended.

Her face was unfamiliar to me. I was sure that I have never even come across her in the streets. But I couldn’t ignore the weird sense of familiarity pricking at the edges of my thoughts.

I knew her. For some unfathomable reasons, I knew her.

My thoughts were cut short when Helga, my mother ran into my room, almost breaking my door as she did so.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Helga asked. Along with that question, an unbearable pain erupted along my left thigh. At first, it felt that my bones were being crushed, and then my flesh felt like it was being minced. Slowly, the pain continued until it reached my skin. It felt as if a glowing charcoal was being pressed against my skin. I screamed in pain.

The screams turned to cries. And soon, I was wailing. Like the woman in my dream.