The Reaper's Curse #1 - Complete

The Fear of the Dark

Alicia Zalana has never feared the dark. She grew up surrounded by it, often found comfort in its embrace where lecherous eyes couldn't find her. 

The darkness she finds herself in now whispers to her all the stories her brothers tried to frighten her with as a child. Not even the flame in her lantern can chase away such a concoction of darkness. Like spilt ink, it slithers into every crack and crevice, suffocating her in the tunnel with its density.

She squints, lowering the lantern to peer at the map crumpled in her trembling grip.

Elena said it wouldn't be much further than the hidden opening in the wall, that her grandfather had been very specific about where not to tread in these tunnels, but Alicia has found no evidence of what she's searching for.

She huffs out a breath, blowing a dark strand of her hair from her eyes and continues trudging forward, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

Carefully traversing loose stone and cracked flooring, she notes the tunnel is beyond ancient if the sour smell lingering in the air is anything to go by. Alicia grits her teeth, sweat trickling down her temples, cooled by the icy air in the tunnel.

She doesn't bother counting the amount of times she nearly turns back, nearly abandons this fool's errand. She has no reason to be here. No reason beyond her loyalty to Elena.

Elena, whose bright brown eyes were filled with hopes and aspirations for the future. Before meeting that vibrant girl, Alicia's world was narrowed to when she would get her next meal and where she could hide to avoid the boys on the street. Her brothers weren't always there to save her.

She sighs and glares down at her map again, trying to make sense of the twisting maze that surrounds her. It's an endless jumble of stone, something Elena warned her of. Such walls founded Muovea, built in a time more myth than fact, held together by black magic, blood, and bone. Or so the stories go. Those few, foolish children who've wandered into the foreboding walls of Muovea have never come back. Some claim they were snatched by red-eyed witches with sharpened teeth, but Alicia's never put much faith in that tale. It's simply a story to keep children away from the walls, a story to explain the unexplainable.

And Elena has asked her to explain it.

Alicia tilts her head to the side, her neck aching from being so tense. As she does, something catches her hearing. A scuffle, a scattering of rocks. If she were anywhere else—if she were back home in the slums—then she'd blame it on the rats. But after walking through these tunnels for the past hour, she knows nothing living braves this cursed place. Not even rats.

Alicia twists around a corner and presses her back to it as she lowers the flame in her lantern. With her breath stuck in her throat, she waits, stuffing her map into her pocket to free her hand.

She's not a fighter, her brothers were the ones who had to bloody their fists for her as kids. It begs the question of why she even accepted this task in the first place. She's clearly not built for it.

The footsteps are soft, calculated, like the person knows they're not alone. She can only hope that they're not a fighter either. Or that it's not a red-eyed witch. That thought makes her want to sob.

Alicia crouches and picks up a rock, the rough edge scratching her callused palm. She curses herself for not swiping her pa's gun before coming here, but if she's being honest with herself, she didn't expect to find anything in these tunnels that proves what Elena's grandfather saw fifteen years ago is real.

The footsteps come closer, echoing now on the stone around her. The glow of a lamp bathes the old stone in a golden hue, scattering shadows. The light lowers and there's a clunk as the person places the lantern on the ground.