Page 8 of The Cursed and the Broken
I slung the satchel over my shoulder and stepped outside into the brisk morning, Laszlo bounding past me on the way out. I gave him a scratch behind the ears, and he dutifully trotted to the barn to await me.
The myriad of flowers in Mama’s garden had long since wilted and the green shoots of various plants curled inwards on themselves, but it was still a pretty sight. I’d always thought of Mama’s magic as a reflection of her true self—nurturing, pure, and wholesome. When she wasn’t cooking feasts fit to feed the town, or stitching with perfect precision, she was in her garden. Weaving her fingers with delicate care, encouraging seeds to take root, nourishing vegetables to grow or planting flowers of the most stunning colours. Mama was a woman of the earth.
Eszter’s gifts lay in the same vein of power. But mine … I frowned as I glanced at the frostbitten garden before me. My magic had always been aggressive.“Fiery, like your spirit,”Mama would say. I rarely used my true power—the one that awakened when I felt cornered, angry, or scared. The one that was wild, dark,dangerous.
I’d never seen another witch who shared power like mine. It was part of the reason they steered clear of me, part of why I’d become a pariah of sorts. They were afraid of it, afraid ofme. Especially after gossip had escalated about Death’s visit to our home upon the hill. News in small towns spread like wildfires. Such nosy creatures, witches.
I rolled my neck and looked down the valley, forcing foreboding thoughts from my mind. As our village sat nestled along the edge of the forest, nature blessed us with wheat fields and rolling hills in the north and west and forestry to the south and east, which then sprawled into the state of Transylvania.
Frost clung like glass baubles to the blossomless trees surrounding our yard and rose-filtered light glowed as it crested the hills. Powdery snow dusted the landscape, glistening in the light of the rising sun. The village was still sleeping, tranquil and undisturbed. Our home was on a slight rise, so we had the best vantage point in town. It overlooked the quaint cottages below, their walls sprawling with ivy, the pebbled paths lined with candles, petals, and strung-up herbs meant to guard their homes or bring luck and fortune to those who passed by.
It was a small village, but it was home. I turned to the barn next to the cottage, trotting down the yard towards the bright yellow doors. Eszter and I had painted it together last year, as per her request. She loved colour, and given her sunny disposition, it seemed fitting even if the barn was my domain. Mama charged me with the livestock and animals and they were my loves in life. All but one, at least.
“There’s a good boy, Laszlo,” I praised our hound as I entered the shelter. The sheep were impatiently jostling to be out and I laughed as I stroked their woolly hides. Laszlo herded them towards the pastures and I turned to face my nemesis.
His name was Sami and he hated my guts. An evil glint flashed in the goat’s eyes and he bleated in warning, pawing at the straw and readying to charge. It was the same dance every day. As soon as the latch on his stall clicked open, it was war.
I scowled as I crept towards him, hands raised placatingly. “Sami, you’re going to play nice today, right?”
The goat glared at me and only lowered his horns in answer. I sighed. Time for a little magic. More of a trick, really, as all witches could wield their power, bending reality to aid them in minor tasks. Mama would kill me if she saw me using it for such a trivial thing, but if there was one thing that scared me, it was this demonic horned hell spawn in the barn.
I twisted my wrist through the air and the lock on his pen slid free. Sami charged, horns lowered and ready to headbutt me to next Sunday. Taking a breath, I lifted my arms, raising an invisible wall of steel around me to block the goat’s advances. The slightest smell of copper climbed my nostrils and a faint mist of red fluttered like dust motes before me. All magic left a colour imprint after being summoned and each one was unique to the user. It unnerved me that mine was red. Not the bright red of apples or the rusty hue of paprika, but the ruby red of blood.
Sami rammed right into the blockade, causing the opaque wall to shimmer and ripple. I grinned at my foe, cocking my head at his repeated attempts. Eventually, Sami tired of the game and trotted off to the pasture for the day.
Eszter was the only one he showed genuine affection for. She loved him dearly, which is the only reason Mama hadn’t cooked his grumpy hide for our dinner. We had found him wandering our fields when he was just a kid with absolutely no idea where he’d come from. Mama’s soft heart had melted when Eszter claimed him as her own. The rest was history.
“Good morning, Arló,” I greeted our horse, raising a hand to stroke his sleek muzzle. He nibbled on my fingers instead, and I laughed. “It’s nice to see you too.”
He was magnificent. Black and glossy like a raven’s feathers, with dark eyes that seemed to see and know all. Arló was gentle, intelligent, and his characteristics spoke volumes about his sassy nature.
As I measured his morning oats into a bucket, Arló reached his neck over the stall, nosing at my satchel and flipping it open until he found his prize. Snatching an apple from the pack, he scoffed it down quicker than I could blink.
Crossing my arms, I raised a brow. “Really?” His response was to bare his teeth in a comical display. I rolled my eyes even as I grinned. “Well, I hope you’re happy. There goes my lunch.”
As I peeked out the barn doors at the rising sun, the muffled sounds of villagers emerging from homes carried on a light breeze. I was dawdling and, if I didn’t hurry, Mama would lecture me to death.
Arló devoured the oats like it was his last day on Earth. There would be no leisurely picking at grass today but, like me, he seemed to enjoy meandering through the woods. The safe and sunny areas, at least. I hoped he wouldn’t begrudge me for trekking deeper, for I highly doubted we’d find Hanna so close to home.
After opening his stall door, I led him outside before closing the barn doors and mounting. Laszlo bounded back over, keen for today’s adventure. Eszter would have to tend to the ladies and his lordship, Robi. The chickens were such lazy creatures, they were probably pleased to have a sleep in.
The woods beckoned, the trees on the border swaying in the breeze, their branches bowing, as if calling me closer. Dappled sunlight trickled through the canopy, casting a warm glow over the foliage at their roots. From here, the woods appeared peaceful, dreamy. But I knew better. Deep within, where the sunlight failed to shine, were wicked, ancient things. They wouldn’t welcome us, being more likely to drink from our veins or feast on our flesh.
I gulped, suddenly unsure if I had the courage to step into their domain. But if I didn’t, who would? Witches weren’t heartless, but there was an unspoken law in our village. A witch who wanders is a witch forgotten. Anyone who enters the Sötét Erdo does so at their peril and damned be the consequences.
It's why no one would search for Hanna and why no one had looked far and wide for the others who’d disappeared. Once you left the coven, you were on your own. Funny that everyone assumed those girls did so on purpose. What if someone took them against their will? Kidnapped them?
Mama might have believed Baba Yana would step in, but she never had before, why should she start now?
Laszlo huffed as he gazed up at me with golden brown eyes and Arló snorted, rolling his own. I looked at my impatient companions with pursed lips.
“You’re right. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’ll be quick and quiet and out in no time. What could go wrong?”
FOUR
We’d been travelling for afew hours, meandering slowly through the forest. The beechwood trees were evenly spaced, allowing Arló plenty of room to walk. Snow crunched beneath his hooves and he stepped carefully over frosty roots. The sun still dappled the forest floor and the occasional animal or bird passed by, seeking cover when sensing our presence.
Laszlo patrolled around tree trunks, snuffling at every scent, tongue lolling and eyes alive with happiness. His big ears flapped comically as he trotted around. I snorted. At least one of us was having fun.
