The Cursed Box: Unveiling Centuries of Tragic Fate

Chapter 2 (Season 1): Continuous Curses

The next morning, the young girl eagerly sat down to practice writing on the mysterious box she had found with her mother. However, an uneasy feeling crept over her, disrupting her concentration. Unable to shake off the sensation, she made a spontaneous decision to leave the house before her mother awoke.

As she ventured out, her path unexpectedly crossed with that of the king. Startled, she accidentally collided with him.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Your Majesty,"
she stammered, feeling flustered.

Observing the king's stout stature, the young girl couldn't help but blurt out,
"Perhaps Your Majesty should consider lifting some heavier objects to shed a few pounds."
The king's expression darkened at the suggestion, and without warning, he lashed out, delivering a swift punch to the young girl's neck.

Stunned and bewildered, she found herself being seized by the king's guards and dragged away to the palace, leaving behind a trail of confusion and unanswered questions.

As the young girl lay in a haze of half-consciousness and confusion, the sting of the king's punch still throbbing in her neck, she couldn't fathom why she had blurted out such an audacious suggestion to the monarch. It felt as though some unseen force had compelled her to speak out of turn.

Through the fog of pain, she replayed the scene in her mind, trying to grasp the inexplicable urge that had seized her.
"Why did I say that?"
she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in the empty room, offering no answers, only adding to her bewilderment.

With each passing moment, the young girl's sense of unease deepened, as if she had unwittingly stumbled into a realm of mysteries far beyond her comprehension. As she drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had unwittingly become entangled in a web of forces beyond her control.

The morning sun filtered through the window, rousing Camilla from sleep. But as she reached for her daughter, a soul-crushing emptiness met her hand. Panic clawed at her throat. Her child was gone. Her world shattered.
Camilla's frantic search through the village yielded nothing but horrified whispers and tear-streaked faces. Finally, she raced to the village leader, her voice hoarse with terror. The village stirred into a frenzy. Soldiers fanned out, scouring every corner for Camilla's precious child.
As hope dwindled with each passing hour, the soldiers returned, a single figure clutched between them. A surge of relief washed over Camilla, followed by a wave of fury.

The one entrusted to protect, the soldier, was the one who had taken her child. The once happy scene transformed into a chilling reminder of the darkness that could lurk beneath the surface of even the most ordinary lives.

Heartbroken, Camilla dashes to the palace only to be halted by a soldier who delivers the devastating news:

"the king has taken the life of your child due to dishonor and being disrespectful."

Shocked and disbelieving, Camilla pleads with the soldier to escort her to the king, yearning to confront him face-to-face.

The soldier coldly denies Camilla access to the king and strikes her. Camilla reels in shock and horror at the sudden violence. Tears streaming down her face, she retreats, struggling to comprehend the loss of her child and the brutality she endured. Overwhelmed by grief and anger, she grapples with the unfathomable pain.

Camilla returns to her home in a state of emotional shock and desperation. She screams and lashes out at the box, blaming it for what has happened. She cannot comprehend how this terrible thing could have happened, and is looking for something or someone to blame. In her mind, the box has become the focal point of her pain and anger.

The next day, Camilla returned to her store, seeking a semblance of normalcy amidst the wreckage of her grief. The loss of her daughter was a raw wound, yet she pushed forward, clinging to the routines of life. As she sat, a box nearby caught her eye. Drawn by a mix of sadness, frustration, and a flicker of curiosity, she reached out and picked it up.

Camilla's contemplation was shattered by a sudden uproar outside her shop. A chaotic brawl erupted between Romans and Roman soldiers, and amidst the frenzy, an arrow found its mark, piercing her.

Camilla's world shattered as an arrow tore through her chest. Crclutching the box, she crumpled to the ground, a cry of pain escaping her lips. Fear swelled within her - she couldn't succumb to death so soon after losing her daughter. With a final surge of hope, she flung the box away, praying someone would find it, its contents offering a glimmer of salvation.

Disoriented, Camilla blinked her eyes open to find herself back in bed. The events that just transpired felt like a bizarre dream. She scanned the room, spotting her friend by her side. Her voice raspy, Camilla croaked a question, yearning to understand the blurry gap in her memory.