The Reaper's Curse #1 - Complete

Long Dead

Alicia is tired of swamps. Tired of trudging through mud up to her calves. Tired of finding leeches on her legs, even through her trousers and boots. But most importantly, she's tired of always looking over her shoulder and wondering if they're being hunted by exiles or are being trailed by Grey Bloods.

Their brief encounters with the Greys have been just that; brief. They're cut down, leaving a littered path of bodies in their wake.

Alicia can't stop thinking about the exiles that ambushed them. She sees them in her nightmares, hears their struggles, but most noticeably she looks at Oliver and can only think of the men he's cut down before her eyes. All in the name of protecting her.

She can't have more souls screaming for her in the beyond.

She doesn't notice the ruins until the mud beneath her boots is replaced with old stone and she stumbles at finally feeling sturdy. She glances around herself, regarding the stone amongst the trees, almost lost within the vines that crawl over them. But as she keeps walking and the trees fall away, arches begin to rise, hinting at the fortress this place used to be. All that's left is crumbling stone and whispers on the wind.

"What is this place?" she asks Oliver as his hand slides along her lower back, guiding her to the right, the warmth of his touch jarring against the cold she's used to. He's quick to drop his hand when her eyes meet his, as though he didn't mean to do it. She doesn't dwell on the brief yearning that passes through her to have his touch again, to feel safe and certain amongst everything.

"Some keep for a prince long dead," he replies, striding ahead of her. She quickens her footsteps to keep up with him, tugging her coat tighter around herself with the absence of his warmth at her side. "Search for the entrance." Alicia watches as those travelling with them get to work, weary from travel and the loss of one of their own from the attack of the other exiles, but eager to get this business done successfully.

Alicia stops following Oliver, feeling out of place as he gets to work like the soldier he is, loading weapons with bullets and directing his people. She decides that she'll look for this fabled entrance too and begins trekking through the ruins.

There have been many princes in Muovea's history, but none as notable as Prince Yorvik, alive during the time of the Faceless Queen and her immortal army, one of the few that had their name recorded in the history books during that time of myth and legend. He's the only one buried with facts and probably the only thing that proves that the Faceless Queen may have been a real person, or at least gives her story an inch of credit. People still don't believe though, because the history books also say he's the one who killed her, but her body was never found.

Alicia walks through ancient arches, spying spiralling staircases that break away and lead to nowhere. The ravens watch her from their perches on the rock, the breeze ruffling their inky feathers. She pretends that their bottomless eyes don't remind her of the Reaper's.

She continues walking, her boots crunching on dead leaves, the quiet of the ruins around her reminding her of the silence of the deceased.

Perhaps the Faceless Queen was real, perhaps she really did build the walls of Muovea to protect what she had slaughtered for. The weight of this place tells her that Muovea's past hasn't been shown in the Light yet.

Stopping at an arch half buried in the dirt, vines curling around the stone, embracing it like a lover would, Alicia wonders what this place once was. A crease forms between her brows when she notices something carved into the stone. She crouches and begins pulling away the weeds to reveal the inscription. Yorvik Keep.

Nearly rolling her eyes at the absolute absurdity of stumbling upon this place of all ruins, Alicia sighs. The gods love to have their little moments, it seems.