Page 31 of The Curse of Ophelia

His words would haunt my dreams for the next two years.

Chapter Thirteen

Present Day

A roaring wind shook the shuttered windows of Rina’s apartment above the locked Cub’s Tavern, but the gusts rocking the building were nothing compared to the storm raging inside of me. Between Damien’s appearance last night and the Curse on my wrist, I had been unable to settle. Unable to do much but harp on the challenges laid before me and my approaching death.

“So, what’s this about, then?” Tolek asked. He sprawled on a chair beside the fire, the flames casting shadows on its high back, shielding his curious face from view. Rina and Cyph fell onto opposite ends of the couch, the former tucking her knees to her chest and crossing her arms atop them.

At my request, Tol and Cyph had stayed behind to help Rina close up. After an hour of washing cloudy glasses and attempting to sweep away the permanent dust circles in the floor, we had retreated upstairs. My friends’ eyes had stayed on my back for the duration of the night. They bore into me with questions as they made themselves comfortable in the sparse living room, echoes of Rina’s parents surrounding us through the worn furniture and treasured keepsakes.

I chewed on my lip, wondering how to begin. Undertaking, Malakai, Curse. The trio echoed through my mind, reminding me of my goals and limitations until they were eating away at me. I needed to start. I needed to tell someone.

Santorina’s fixed stare felt anticipative as she toyed with her sleeve and nodded, telling me to get on with it.

I turned toward the fire, staring into the glow that so resembled the Angellight that had spilled into my room last night. With a deep breath, I let that imaginary power settle into my skin and give me the courage I needed.

“I have something to share with you, and you’ll likely find it outrageous, but I beg you to listen for the duration.” I looked over my shoulder, my eyes meeting Cyph’s first.

He nodded in agreement, but it was Tol who spoke from his shadows. “Ophelia, you know we often find the words from your mouth preposterous.” I could hear the casual smile coating his words.

If only my heart felt as light in that moment.

And so, I told them. Of Damien’s appearance in my bedroom in the hours following my birthday celebration. Of his riddled words and the dance of fate that was left in his absence. Of how I interpreted the two tasks he left before me. Of what I planned to do next.

My three closest friends stared at me when I finished speaking. There was no sound but my uneven breaths, the distant banging of a door shutting, and the beginnings of a light trickle of rain in the rusted gutters. I allowed them a moment to absorb everything I had admitted, then it was Rina whose gaze I sought first. Her judgment, always the harshest, carried the most painful truth—and was thus the one I would rather face head-on.

She grasped her knees tighter to her chest, and she looked so much younger than her twenty-one years. My mind flashed back to the girl I met thirteen years ago, a stranger among a world of warriors.

“You’re going to attempt the Undertaking?” she asked. When I nodded, she added, “Are you mad?”

The task ahead will try thy spirit…Damien’s words trickled through my body, leaving a warmth along my bones.

“It’s the only way.” I let a hint of desperation seep into my voice.

“No, Ophelia.” She shot to her feet, looking down on me. “It is a death wish.”

I threw my arms out at my sides. “And if I meet my death in this fate, then so be it. I will die a Mystique Warrior’s death.” Her cold stare met mine, and though Rina was not a warrior, I felt the power of one radiating from her.

“I won’t sit by and watch you die.” Her voice cracked over the last word. Suddenly, she looked three years younger, watching her parents brutally slain in a war that was not their own. The memory of her tear-streaked face cleaved a small piece of my heart, but not enough to dull the edge I had carried with me all day.

I took a calming breath, reminding myself that my friends were not aware of the impending scourge burrowing into my wrist and the fate I had already accepted. Of course they would fight my decision to risk my life, as they saw it. In the past day the Curse had only grown slightly, its green-gray trail darkening as it crept up my forearm. It was slower than expected, but it was still claiming me with each painful stretch of the web—and it was still a secret I must shoulder.

Wind battered the windows again, the old walls and stairway creaking in response. A chill trailed through the small room, wrapping itself around the four of us.

“I will not die in the Undertaking,” I whispered, and it wasn’t a lie. I did not believe that was how I would lose my life.

Rina’s shoulders slouched in defeat, seeing the resolve in my stance and tight jaw. The fire crackled behind me, echoing my burning determination.

“But the Undertaking has been suspended,” Cyph interjected from his spot on the couch. He was leaning forward, elbows braced against his knees, his tall frame entirely too big for the cushions. “How will you even attempt the ritual?”

“In secret,” I answered simply. “You cannot stall the Spirits.” Though I hadn’t been certain of the answer until it left my lips, something within me knew it was the truth.

Tolek’s voice cut through the shadows. “You believe that if you arrive at the Spirit Volcano, you will be welcomed in.” It wasn’t a question; he sounded incredulous, yet impressed.

Not even the Revered could command the warrior Spirits that ruled the Undertaking. He could only stop us from entering. If I could make the journey undetected and slip through the defenses at the mountain range, I should be able to reach the Spirit Volcano. Angels bless me.

Tolek rose from his chair and came to my side. I felt his eyes on my face, but I did not meet them. “Rina’s right,” he declared. “This is madness.”

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