The Reaper's Curse #1 - Complete

Their Fate

The days that pass are an absolute crawl with Alicia confined to bed, watching Kathryn go about her days. She leaves for long hours, hours that Alicia spends flicking through the grand duke's journal. And when the older woman comes back, she's grubby and exhausted, discoloured liquid splattering her bronze cheeks, a liquid Alicia recognises from what stained the queen's carpets.

Alicia has to force herself not to drown in those memories.

Pulling up her bandages, Alicia finds the exit wound of the bullet she took to be healing well. Movement is still limited for her, but her muscles itch to get up and get moving again. She needs a distraction, something other than the notebook.

Most of it is filled with theories. Mentions of long-forgotten traveller stories that Alicia already knows too well. Not only was the duke searching for a way to control the Ghuls, but he was also searching for a cure to the Reaper's Curse. The two goals confuse Alicia in their contradictions, and nowhere in the journal does it say what the duke's plans were after he succeeded in procuring such things.

All of it leaves a sharp pain behind Alicia's eyes and she usually ends her nights by shoving the book back into her satchel with a frustrated sigh.

It's during the hours where Kathryn is gone that Alicia attempts to stand and move. Sweat makes the shirt on her back cling between her shoulder-blades and her teeth grind together as pain arks through her side. Every muscle in her body is stiff, having turned to lead from being crippled for so long. But she manages to slide her bare feet along the rough floorboards, past the fireplace and towards the small kitchen to lean against the table.

Breathing sharp breaths through her nose, Alicia approaches the stove to light the wood with kindling and a match that shakes in her hand. Once it's going, she drags the full kettle of water over the warming iron before slumping against the bench to catch her breath.

She doesn't remember the last time she felt so weak, but she knows it was a frequent lethargy when she was a hungry child in the slums.

On days when the world around her is quiet, Alicia is plagued by the thought that she misses those days. The days of hunger and hurt and seeing her family suffer. But in those days she had her soul and she didn't have the Reaper whispering in her ear. In those days, she was just Alicia Zalana, nothing more.

The whine of the kettle yanks her from her thoughts and Alicia rubs her tired eyes as she turns to the stove. Alicia takes the steaming kettle from the stove, snuffing out the flame before pouring the water into the pot that already has Kathryn's favoured leaves in there.

Making herself a cup of tea, focusing on something other than herself, helps her find some semblance of normalcy again. She may be an exile and how she got here may be a nightmare, but at least some things in life will never change.

She wraps her cold hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her bones as she blows on the steaming tea.

Kathryn doesn't know that her brother is dead. Alicia hasn't been able to tell her. The guilt of it is slowly eating her alive and the only thing that's stopping her from letting it, is ignoring it.

She's an exile. She's out here now. Nothing that happened within those walls will ever matter out here.

"Alicia."

Lifting her gaze, Alicia finds her aunt standing before her, a frown on her face, a sack slung over her shoulder.

The mug of tea is cold between Alicia's palms. She hasn't even taken a sip.

How long she's been standing, staring at nothing, lost in her own guilt, she can't say.

"Are you alright?" the older woman asks.