The wind whipped viciously as snow fell upon the landscape, even snow flakes felt like hail when he’d been walking for hours. His cape snapped in the wind with each step, snow crunching beneath his feet. Jacob had forgotten how long he’d been traveling for; minutes, hours, days; it all felt like one in the same. Of course, he was the sacrifice this year. Of course, he’d forgotten how to hold his tongue once again. One wrong word to the King had sent him packing, creating ramifications he should have expected. Should have. But didn’t.


    He figured that maybe he’d find Garnet out in these frozen wastelands, alive by the skin of her teeth thanks to her strong survival skills. She had been sent as a sacrifice around this time last year.


    In the distance was nothing but frozen woodlands. Grae-gunn hadn’t seen a change in seasons since before he’d been born, damed to an eternal winter by the curse that shrouded their lands. His teeth began chattering as he took another step, arm raised over his forehead to prevent the snow from piling on his long eyelashes.


    Finally, just before the tree line to the forest, he thought he saw something.


    Up ahead stood what Jacob thought to be a bare, adolescent Oak—no different from the taller trees that surrounded it. Its branches stretched out desperately, begging to bathe in sun once more. Its juvenile status gave hope for other life. Perhaps, winter wasn’t endless. Perhaps, Jacob thought, he’d find new lands if he went just a bit further.


    As he inched closer to the woodlands, he felt each drag of his legs through the calf-hgih snow. He could have sworn he’d seen the tree move from its original position, now five feet closer to him, but the snow’s incessant flurries made it hard to gauge. In the blink of an eye, it came at least another five feet closer. Frozen in place, he watched it with caution.


    Not a tree. Jacob thought. The Curse of Grae-Gunn.


    Folklore shrouded his mind.


    His mouth went dry, instinctively reaching for the small dagger he’d managed to save up for a couple of years ago. Irrationality made him believe the blade offered even the slightest bit of protection. Never in his 26 years of living had Jacob anticipated seeing The Curse up close.


    A low growl emitted from the distance, a huff of perspired air coming from what could have been a mouth. Whirling snow from the ground and sky made it difficult to tell where exactly the creature began, and where it ended. He scanned the silhouette, realizing that the long extensions were not branches—but antlers. They moved from side to side, jerking as the beast shook its head like a predator with prey. Jacob shifted on his feet, fortifying his stance as his throat burned from the cold.


    In an instant, he was face to face with the cryptid. Its head was pure ivory, with gaping eye sockets rivaling that of night itself. Small, green-gold pinpoints sat at the center, searing into Jacob’s very soul. The long antlers sprouted from the being’s head, threatening to stab him if he so much as moved an inch.


    It opened its large, fleshless mouth and screeched at Jacob, his eardrums vibrating from the pressure and intensity. Its breath was hot—a stark contrast to the frigid air around him. His head began to pound, and as he fumbled for his dagger he felt his body hoisted up by skeletal hands.


    The creature burst into a full sprint, carrying him as if he were no more than a small bag of luggage through the wilderness. Jacob kicked and thrashed, trying to break free of its talon-like grasp to no avail. Whatever it was, it was stronger than him—by a long shot. His heart lurched, panic washing over him as the he was jostled up and down with each stride the cryptid took.


    Cracking and snapping sounds came from just behind his right ear, and he turned his head just before being moved again. His body slammed into something hard, though he was still moving. Through his eyes, he only saw bones cracking back into place, imprisoning him behind the beast’s ribcage. There he sat, in the cryptid’s pelvic bone, his head hitting the discs of the creature’s spine with each stride it made.


    Jacob had always hated his lack of muscle or fat, and that moment seemed to cement it into his mind. If he managed to live through this, he swore to never let another meal go to waste.


    Faster and faster, it ran. Until Jacob’s stomach churned in pure agony; until his joints felt like they’d pop. His skull had all but burst at that point, the sound of wind whistling through the creatures’ ribcage as it ran made him want to go deaf entirely. Slowly, his vision grew dark around the edges. Before he knew it, he’d passed out.


    ————


    “Pity…” A feminine voice drawled from outside of the room, honeyed and melodic. “These mortals keep sending each other my way, hm, Drakos?”


    The sound of chittering filled his ears from the other side of the wall. Whether it was a lemur or an otter, Jacob didn’t care. He was away from the cryptid that had kidnapped him, laying on hard flooring. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing it and opening an eye. Intricate tiles made up the ceiling of the room he was in, adorned with different engravings. Alongside the chattering was the crackling of a fireplace, the warmth hardly thawing the chill that had made its way to his bones. He sat up from the white marble he laid on.


    “W-who’s there?” He stammered, dazed and confused. He looked around in bewilderment, taking in the nigh-gaudy decorations of the room. The same creature from before appeared at the doorway, standing just as tall and menacing as before, holding a large ball of wicker in its boned claws. A fearful yelp escaped his lips, and the feminine voice came resounding down the hallway.


    “It’s awake?!” She asked. “Drakos, tell me these things!”


    The skeleton chittered disappointedly in response as a woman with pointed ears pushed past the creature—her strides quick and urgent. She had an ethereal face, with almond-shaped eyes and strong eyebrows. Jacob secretly hoped himself to wake up from his fever-dream by now. Before him stood a Faerie—the rumored predators of this world.


    He took in his surroundings once more. Gold. A lot…of gold. Candelabras, picture frames, even the veins of the marble flooring…he felt out of place in his worn clothing. The events leading up to now made him dizzy, and as he looked back at the woman he couldn’t help but ogle her attire. She was dressed in finer clothing than Grae-Gunn’s king, her satin robe flowing with each movement of her hips.


    “Mortal, are you alright?” She asked as she kneeled down and slung his arm over her shoulder. Floral notes and vanilla filled his nostrils, the words he wanted to say hitching in his throat. She sighed, bringing him to a luxurious red upholstered couch and setting him down on it.


    “I’m cold.” Was all he could muster in response.


    The woman’s eyes widened, a sense of empathy washing over her, and she muttered under her breath. “By The Wilds…”


    With the wave of a hand, the cryptid came closer, shedding its antlers and holding them in its hands. Without them, it looked less menacing—though still mortifying. Jacob wondered what it truly was, and where it came from. It passed the couch, and walked up to the fireplace, throwing the antlers into the fire. Quickly, the room became comfortably warm.


    He wondered if the being had done such a thing upon its own free will, or if it were a thrall under the dazzling woman’s control. Unsure whether to consider her friend or foe yet, he eyed the woman warily. She was entrancing, with such a youthful and defined face that he assumed her to be younger than him.


    She returned his gaze with a warm smile, studying him fondly. The man was tall and skinny, similar to all of her adopted children when they first arrived. Often, they came in with nigh-skeletal bodies and sunken faces, withered from years of poverty or servitude. His green eyes scanned his surroundings with a fearful, cautious gaze—typical of a new adoptee. She always found them rather endearing, taking pity upon new arrivals and their commonly tragic backstories.


    Other humans came and went from the room, tending to odd ends and lingering to catch a glimpse of Jacob. Varying in height and weight, both male and female, some looked familiar. A woman he’d seen at the markets many years ago; an old man who once owned a tavern; a girl who’d been rumored to be involved in witchcraft. All of them, prior sacrifices to Grae-Gunn’s Curse.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    “Are they your servants?” He asked.


    The woman’s inviting smile never left her face. She shook her head, feeling humored by such a question.


    “They are my children.” She replied.


    Jacob felt even more confused by her response, furrowing his brows and looking from their most recent visitor—a young boy—back to the woman. “Children?” He asked.


    “They are mortals, forced to seek out what lay past The Wilds just as you were. Instead of leaving them to brave the Kroan, I’ve taken them in.”


    He eyed the woman with a clenched jaw, finding her even more mysterious as she spoke of something he’d never heard of.


    “They were sacrifices, like you.” She said, putting things simply. “What is your name, child?”


    Had the man not been so exhausted, so overwhelmed with the desire to sleep, he would have asked her for her name first. He felt so horribly tired, but the possibilities of his current situation loomed over him. Perhaps he was now a character in some grim fairytale, where he’d be trapped into servitude. Maybe he was safe. Whatever the case, he swallowed and leaned into the back of he couch, watching the woman with heavy eyes.


    “Jacob Hart.” He replied gruffly.


    She offered another smile, not an ounce of malevolence to be seen behind her warm brown eyes.


    “Jacob,” she repeated, “It’s nice to have you.”


    She took a seat at the armchair across from him, with the cryptid finding its spot beside her. Its bones began shifting, shrinking in some spots and growing in others. A quiet, short screech emitted from the beast as it lost its once bipedal form, becoming more deer than human in skeletal structure. Hooves now replaced its hands and feet, which clattered against the marble flooring and onto the rug beside her. Slowly, it laid down and curled up—comfortable and relaxed. Falazin was used to her skeletal companion, not moving a centimeter from her position in the chair as it took on its more animal form.


    Jacob felt much the opposite, grimacing at each snap and crack of its bones. The way its fingers curled backwards, folding in on themselves and popping loudly made his hands ache. Even more distressing was the squelching noise of each vertebrate as it shrank, popping in and out of their spinal column to realign. Jacob eyed it warily as its bones rose and fell whilst nestled beside the armchair. The woman cleared her throat, to which he peeled his attention from the beast and unto its master.


    “My name is Falazin Sycanthe.” She said. “The Curse of Grae-Gunn.”


    His body stiffened as she spoke, blood running cold as if back out on the mountains. The fire did little to keep him warm, or at ease, with this newfound information.


    “You’re The Curse?” He asked, disbelief lining his voice.


    The woman before him looked like a being of blessing, not one of accursed origin. The folklore of his Kingdom was rampant with descriptions of her, painting her to look more like the beast that laid beside her—or that of a wicked man, much taller and larger than she was. Her warm brown eyes sparkled in the firelight, as the flames danced towards her in beckoning motions. She’d received the same question tens of times before, ever since Grae-Gunn began their sacrificial acts.


    “I am.” She confirmed. “Your kind is always so surprised by this fact.”


    “Why have you cursed my Kingdom?” He asked, his tone growing more accusatory. “Why is it that you demand sacrifices?!”


    Falazin never dropped her smile, though it was now closed-lipped. Her heart sank at his accusations, though they weren’t without reason. She’d never found this part of adopting a child easy; the berating and damnation. The humans who came in and out of the room lingered for longer periods of time now, watching as the man on the couch lost his calm baseline.


    “I do not ask, and yet I receive.” She said. “It may be best to ask yourself why your kind started sending them to me, to begin with.”


    Jacob grew even more rigid, clenching his jaw. There was never a reason given. His people were faithful to their King, and did as they were told. Once a year, they were asked to send a chosen one to appease The Curse. Unfortunately for Jacob, he’d been chosen just a few months before the time had come for the yearly sacrifice.


    “You truly expect me to believe that my people do this without reason?” He asked, his voice low and upset.


    Falazin shook her head—the last thing she expected was for him to understand the poor decision-making of his King. Even she was without an exact reason for why she began receiving humans every mortal year. She’d never spoken to the humans, taking on the position of The Keeper differently than her father. He’d once been friendly with his lesser-lived counterparts, but that was before The Wilds became more difficult to contain.


    “I do not expect you to do anything more than what I ask of you, while you live here.” She replied.


    “And what might that be?” He asked.


    Falazin looked to her right, to the window that lay just beyond the the common area. “Beyond those doors is a courtyard. You may spend your idle time amongst its greenery, but under no circumstances are you to go beyond the gates. The House of Asfaleia is a sanctuary, impenetrable to the dangers of The Wilds.”


    Jacob looked to his left, trying to see anything from outside of the window. Pitch dark. Night had come by now.


    “What’s beyond the gates?”


    Falazin’s expression became serious as she looked back at him, her warm eyes now filled with warning. “The Kroan.” She said simply. “They lurk in The Wilds, and do not fear mortals. You are not to enter The Wilds without myself or Ikharis.”


    From Falazin’s side came a low chitter, making the smile return to her face as she looked down to the rug. “Or Drakos.” She added lovingly.


    “Who is Ikharis?” Jacob asked.


    Falazin’s smile grew wider as she thought about the Fae, holding him in high reverence.


    “Ikharis is my friend.” She said softly.


    Jacob’s curiosity grew stronger, though his eyes were heavy. This new world he’d been thrust into was dizzying, it made him wonder if he had died out in those woods—experiencing an after-death hallucination of sorts.


    “What are the Kroan?” He asked.


    “Beings of darkness.” Falazin said.


    She could sense his curiosity, but knew better than to indulge him entirely. He was fighting off sleep to discover more of his situation, and while she admired the valiant effort, she knew there were consequences for avoiding sleep.


    “I believe this conversation would be best picked up another time,” Falazin began, “Duke and Henry will show you to your room. Do not be shy, please make yourself at home.”


    Jacob balked, wishing to learn more of the different elements of his new environment—but the look in the Fae’s eyes told him she would not entertain him any further. She waved her hand, and within a few breaths time came two mortal men, donning fine clothing.


    “Brother,” the taller of the two men began, the golden accents of his lapels glimmering in the firelight. “I’m Henry, this is Duke.”


    Jacob felt at ease, seeing two mortals close to his age. The man who spoke to him offered a smile, revealing a gap between his teeth. His companion wore a more stoic expression, his blue and silver satin attire glimmering just as Henry’s red and gold. Jacob made his way to stand, managing halfway up before his knees buckled.


    Henry lurched forward, grabbing Jacob by the arm and catching him from falling with wide eyes. It was common, Falazin thought, for her new adoptees to be worn from their journey towards The Wilds. She served as a rock of sorts for the men in the room, relieving their worry towards the situation. Duke came to Jacob’s left, offering more support to the frail man. With a grunt, Jacob tried once more to stand; he rose to his feet, taking small steps as both Henry and Duke guided him through the house.


    Detailed paintings and vases; hand-carved furniture and chairs; and rugs made of rare textiles all surrounded Jacob as he traversed the mansion, his eyes wide with wonder. Each agonizing step felt like his legs were made of jelly beneath him. The steps were an eon away to him, but the support of his new acquaintances eased the treacherous journey.


    “I know it’s been a lot.” Henry said as they began up the steps. “Coming here—learning about Falazin.”


    Jacob loosed a breath, his legs all but giving out as he dragged his foot up another step. “Yeah.” He huffed.


    “She’s a good woman—er, Fae.” Henry added.


    “Yeah.”


    The three trudged their way up the steps, with Jacob relying mostly on the other two to help him up. They carefully brought him down the hall, offering compassionate words of encouragement to Jacob as he walked. Coming upon an acacia door, Duke and Henry halted.


    “You’ll rest here.” Duke said.


    Henry opened the door, revealing a minimalistic but lavish room. A dark oak bed frame encased a plush bed with white sheets, a muted orange and white rug before it. A dresser, end table, and wardrobe of the same woodworking furnished the room, accompanied by a set of armchairs in matching shades as the rug that served as a centerpiece to the room. Slowly, the men lowered him onto the bed—a heavy sigh leaving all three of their lips.


    “If you find yourself wanting to bathe, simply think of it and the bath will run for you.” Duke stated. A fire started in the room’s fireplace, its gentle cracking filling the air.


    Jacob nodded, flopping down to the bed and shutting his eyes. He was much too tired to bathe—to do anything aside from rest—as the exhaustion from his journey through the woods caught up with him. The gentlemen offered soft smiles to him, seeing parts of themselves within their new brother. As soon as they left, sleep swiftly took Jacob away.