Bride of Bluebeard (A fairytale Retelling - Book 1)

C1: Cursed (Excerpt)

MIRABEL

Mirabel's father said she was blessed. She thought herself cursed. She never knew when her skin would break out with scales. Up until recently, the scales were barely visible even to those standing by, but every time a breakout occurred, more patches of them appeared.

Her birth wasn't exactly as celebratory as her sister's. Calista was born with white magic. When she touched living things, they'd become renewed. Her magic developed from making wilting flowers bloom to healing the sick.

Mirabel wouldn't admit it openly, but she didn't understand what the fuss was all about. Everyone seemed to think highly of Calista's magic. She tried to heal Mirabel on several occasions. After her attempts failed to remove Mirabel's curse, it didn't prevent her from wanting to learn how. Her sister would spend days in the library searching for an answer. Mirabel thought it a waste of time. A curse was a curse. It wasn't like healing a lesion or an infection. Maybe it just wasn't a thing to be fixed. Although her sister's actions left Mirabel feeling disappointed, she understood why her Calista would persist and she didn't hold it against her for trying. Eventually, Mirabel had enough and would avoid her sister altogether whenever she could.

Mirabel would secretly wish Calista could have healed their mother all those years ago.

***

SIXTEEN YEARS PRIOR

Three months after Mirabel was born, the entire town of Varyendale was hit by some kind of sickness. It swept across the kingdom, taking more than half the lives it touched. Her mother included. When her mother was on her deathbed, she made her father promise to find a cure for Mirabel as she was also on the brink of dying. Calista was only two years old at the time. Her healing abilities hadn't developed yet.

The fever wouldn't loosen its grip on Mirabel and her lungs had grown weak. Her father made a leather carrier from animal hide and carried her on his back as he scaled Westwyrm Mountain. He had heard about a Dragon Shaman, Adraka, a woman with supernatural powers. As his last hope, he sought for her aid, trekking by horseback until the path wounded into a steep, narrow trail, hardly wide enough for even a child to cross. He edged his way through until he reached a clearing leading to a cavern. There, he found a white-haired woman, dressed in animal skins and fur, waiting with a welcoming smile as if she had been expecting him.

"Are you the one they call, Adraka, the Dragon Shaman?" he asked.

Her eyes crinkled with kindness. She held up a staff that glowed softly and nodded. "Yes."

He fell to his knees and gazed up at her. "Please. I've come here to seek your aid. My daughter, she's—"

Adraka placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know what you've come for. Let me see her."

Mirabel's father lifted the carrier from his back and revealed Mirabel's face, which by now was covered in tears.

Adraka took the baby in her arms. "Shh. Quiet little one. All will be well now." She turned away from the father.

"Wait," he said, holding out a coin purse. "I have means to pay."

Adraka didn't turn to see what he offered. "The Great Drakaras will bestow a special gift and when the debt is to be paid, it will be paid, but not by coin. Wait here. I shall return when the baby has been made well." She continued forward, entering the mouth of the cavern.

Her father waited next to the campfire that night. He fell asleep and by morning's light, he awoke to his daughter's cooing in the arms of Adraka as she stood before him.

"It is done," said Adraka. "She has been made well."

It was true. Mirabel was made happy and healthy again. Her skin no longer hot with fever. It even had a golden glow to it and her grip was strong around his finger...

***

What had the Dragon Shaman done to cure her? Her father never asked Adaka. He was content that she would live. But what was life if she had to spend it hiding from others? And what debt would be owed? A life of misery?

Mirabel pushed aside her thoughts and stared out from her bedroom window in the attic, watching townspeople passing by with smiles on their faces, going about their normal day. She wished she could do the same.

A messenger came to the door. Calista answered, no doubt. Father was away on a business errand. Mirabel made out a few words from the messenger's voice. Something about a letter and it was addressed to Mirabel.

To me? Who would write a letter to me?