The Miracle's Curse

Strings

With a daring grin on his face and a bamboo staff in his hands, Adrian had no idea what he was doing. A moment earlier, the words 'I challenge you' had left his mouth and now he sorely regretted it. The fight hadn't even begun and he knew he was going to lose. The orange haired man wearing black and red stared at him in surprise before a smirk crawled onto his pale lips.

Because Adrian had his own personal stalker, he was allowed to go outside. So now they stood on the terrace overlooking the spiraling city. Black roads swirled precisely through the squarish brown concrete buildings. The land was rocky and gray, the mountain range encircled the city; he couldn't see one blade of grass except for the terrace. Black fences lined the edge of the roof; rose bushes were intertwined in the bars. A stack of bamboo staffs were lined up along the fence line, and Adrian had snatched one nearly as soon as he saw it.

The breeze was cold, but Cylus shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Black ink was tattooed onto his right forearm. He sauntered over to the bamboo staffs and took one for himself.

Adrian shrugged off his own red and gold coat and unbuttoned his white cuffs as well as the first few links near his collar. Although he was nervous and called himself a fool, he kept his daring smirk and held his staff steadily.

Cylus felt the balance of one and swung it around casually as if he had fought with it many times before. Satisfied, he stood across from his opponent and set himself in a stance Adrian had never seen before.

Without thinking, Adrian's feet slid into place and he held the bamboo comfortably. He couldn't wonder how he did it, because Cylus was suddenly launching at him. Their staffs met in the center. Aggressively, Cylus shoved the bamboo forward, so that Adrian stumbled backwards. He still wasn't healed completely, and both his burns and his stab wound ached. Defiantly, he swung the opposite end upwards, but Cylus dodged. Adrian swung, but he missed again and was met with a sharp hit to his wrist. He scrambled out of reach before his ankles could be whacked.

"You challenged me." Cylus couldn't help but smirk.

Adrian tightened his grip on his only weapon and launched back into the fight. At first his opponent forced him back, but something came to him. His mind raced faster than his body could respond; he saw the pattern and flaws in the man's fighting. And then Cylus was the one stumbling back, sweat beading on his forehead as he desperately tried to block. Adrian smiled wickedly. It all came so easily to him, how clear Cylus' flaws had been. It was as if he could see one step ahead and assume Cylus' next move. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he felt so comfortable being in the heat of a fight.

Adrian pushed a bit too hard, wrapped up in his excitement, because he slashed the bamboo hard across the other man's face, leaving a gash. He forced himself to stop when Cylus tumbled to his knees, hand pressed against his cheekbone. "That was my fault." Adrian hastily said. "I got too carried away. I apologize." He extended a hand but retracted it when Cylus shot him a murderous glare.

A pain so sharp crossed his side that Adrian gasped and fell backwards. His vision blurred in bright lights as he clutched his side, the one where he had gotten stabbed. His knees curled into his chest without thinking, and his eyes stung. A wetness poured from where he was struck, his wound reopened. Shaking, he pressed his hands against it. With the spreading fire in his side, he hardly acknowledged the slowly healing burns on his back that ached where he lay.

"Stand." Cylus growled near his ear, but Adrian couldn't bring himself to move. "Stand." Adrian was yanked by the arm to his feet, where his knees nearly buckled again, but he was held steady, although his breath was more of a tremble. "You will put on your coat, and you will stitch yourself up in your room. You will not say a word of this. Understand?"

Adrian nodded hastily but he could feel his face paling. Once he struggled to put on his coat, he stumbled down the stairs that lead back into the mansion with Cylus right behind him, snarling, "You did this to yourself. You will not say a word."

The rest of the walk was a blur of red, twisting hallways, and soon enough he was shoved into his room. Once the door slammed shut, he stumbled onto his bed. He had to blink hard to keep himself from passing out. His drawers and drapes spun around him until he thought he might throw up.

There was a small knock before a maid slid in, lightly closing the door behind her. It was the maid from before, who had ratted him out. She carried a sewing kit and her lips were pressed into a thin line. She placed the box next to him and glanced behind her worriedly before she opened it herself and helped him shed his jacket. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and exposed the reopened wound. "He told me to give you the box but when I saw you...you can't do it by yourself, sir."

He didn't protest as she dug out some white cloths, needles, and thread. He only jumped when she cleaned away the blood and stuck the needle in the first time. She was quick, he silently thanked her for her speediness, and soon he was patched up. He still shook, though, and tilted back and forth.

She packed everything up. "Lay back, sir, and rest."

A thought finally came to him and he pointed a trembling finger at her. "You ratted me out. I asked you not to do that."

"I didn't, sir." She bowed her head. "Mistress Sara Felle found the open box before I could go back and hide it. I do hope you weren't...I hoped you hadn't gotten into too much trouble." She shifted her feet. "Can I take a look...?"

He nodded and regretted it when the room spun around him. Vaguely, he heard her tiny gasp of horror behind him. He hadn't thought about the branded letters traced down his spine until she had mentioned them, but he had gotten used to their sore feeling.

"You should probably go." He swayed a bit but caught himself. "The witch could come at any second." He hadn't much care in him to watch his language.

"Your wrist..." he heard her murmur. That one, from the first week he was here, wasn't so bad anymore. He shrugged and listened to her rustling as she hopped down from the mattress.

"What's your name?" He heard himself say without thinking.

She stopped in surprise. "V-Vivi. Why, may I ask?"

"I thought it would be polite to thank you properly. So, thank you, Vivi."

She nodded hastily and raced out of his room. Once the door swung close, he fell backwards onto his bed. He winced at his aching back, but his muscles felt too heavy to sit up. Shutting his eyes, he thought about what had happened during his fight. He could predict Cylus' every move, and it came naturally to him. That had to be because of something from his past.

As he stared up at the ceiling, it was like he could see transparent strings of different colors, connecting to everyone and everything. He watched them; it must be because of his lack of blood, but he could practically reach out and pluck them from the air. His mind started to pick up pace again and he nearly rose his head. Certain strings were connecting to each other, and he realized he was forming a plan in his head. A plan of escape. It all fit together so simply; he was surprised he hadn't seen it before. A smile curved his lips. He knew what he had to do.