Page 19 of Heirs of the Cursed

In search of peace and quiet, Darcia leaned against the tub and plunged into the dark depths of her mind. Mastering her magic had never been easy, but at times like that, she was grateful for her ability to control it. At first, fear had paralyzed her; manipulating illusions, altering memories or beliefs was inherently risky. Any mistake could lead to chaos, both for those it affected and for herself, caught in the complexity of emotions and memories.

In Laivalon, magic could be dangerous.

The dryadalis of Lên Rajya, born of thehekseri—the light magic of the goddess of creation, Kuheia—channeled their essence through abilities that controlled fire, wind, earth, water, and more. On the other hand, the daimonas of Ro’i Rajya, created from themigrior—the dark power of Kazaris, the goddess of destruction—, mastered unique and misunderstood magic. Those gifts, so different from those of their counterparts, plunged them into despair, driving them to the brink of madness.

It was rumored that many of the daimonas had succumbed to the darkness of their power, unable to control the ability that the deities had given them. Even the Two Bloods, born from the union of the two kinds, had received a fate worse than death.

But darkness could not be controlled, only accepted.

Since the beginning of time, it had been about balance: the dryadalis of light magic and the daimonas of dark magic. And that balance was about to be broken forever if the curse were to reach the kingdom and destroy everything.

Downstairs, the sound of a door made Darcia sharpen her hearing without moving a muscle. Conrad had arrived, and by the heaviness of his footsteps, he was drunk. Only a few seconds later, she heard her father walk out of his room.

“We had a most interesting visitor today,” he said by way of greeting.

“Don’t tell me,” Conrad replied.

“Harg Koller, or the Chaser as you may know him,” continued Gion. “He said he was acquainted with you.”

“He’s an old friend.” Conrad’s laconic reply made Darcia attend more earnestly. She remained motionless in the bathtub, preventing the sound of the water from breaking her concentration.

“And what exactly are they looking for?”

That’s it, Dad, straight to the point, Darcia thought to herself.

Conrad didn’t answer immediately. He walked around the parlor until he reached the kitchen, where the sound of recipients being moved reached her ears.

“A week ago I sent a letter to His Majesty, offering my help.”

“Help with what?” Gion inquired.

“With the search of the cursed princesses.”

Darcia’s eyes snapped open. “What?” she mumbled.

“What?” Gion asked the same question. “The cursed princesses?”

“The only ones that exist in our world, father. The heiresses of Ro’i Rajya, Amira and Meissa Boreaalinen.”

Despite the naturalness with which her stepbrother responded, Darcia’s chest tightened with deepening confusion. Carefully, she leaned back against the edges of the tub and pulled herself upright to listen more intently.

“The Dark Twins are in the Fallen Kingdom, Conrad. Locked and petrified for eternity,” Gion said.

“No, they aren’t.”

Darcia’s heart skipped a beat.

“You’ll have to explain yourself so I can understand what you’re saying.”

“The king sent a scout a couple of weeks ago to inspect the ruins of Ro’i Rajya. It seems that the Dark Twins aren’t in their cradles.”

“That’s nonsense.” Darcia heard her father say.

“It’s outrageous, that’s what it is! A perilous danger that threatens our kingdom.”

Darcia closed her eyes, leaving behind the murmur of her own thoughts. She detached herself from the emotions that anchored her to her humanity and unleashed her power. Slipping, she fell into an abyss of darkness, where red threads, frayed and tangled in palpable chaos, soon welcomed her.

“This is ridiculous . . . Who would take the cursed princesses out of Ro’i Rajya?”

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