Curse of the Crimson Queen

Prologue

The image of the infinite blackened sky felt like home. Countless stars lit its canvas, as if they were little islets on an endless ocean. Maeve found comfort in the sight, and she knew, even if she was to live a thousand cycles, she would forever be stunned by the beauty of the night. The starlit sky would always console her: everything was all right as it was; and the way it was was all right.

A faint groan broke her from her reverie. With a deep sigh, she took one last glance at the firmament, then turned her eyes away.

Down, in front of her was a man lying face-down, whimpering. His tattered clothes wrapped his skinny body as a shroud, as if he were already awaiting death's peaceful embrace. Had he found the strength within, he would have probably tried to meet Maeve's eyes. Alas, he lied motionless in the wet sand of the beach, except for his hands. Those uncanny, bony fingers of his were stretching toward the girl, shaking, in one final, silent cry for help.

Maeve crouched and held the man's face in her hands. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her tempestuous thoughts, trying to focus. Then she sensed it – the raw essence of life itself, these vivid elements that propelled the whole universe, pouring into this world through the Veil, the Veil that had been torn at last after countless centuries, a couple of years before her birth.

No scholar, wizard, or arcanist could provide a sound explanation of the nature of this power. Some called it sorcery; some called it magic. Others regarded it as the Blessing, and others, again, would call it the Curse. None of these names would be correct.

Maeve knew it was far more. It was the faelin.

She reached for the essence and let it flow into her Well of Source. She opened her eyes and urged all the gathered energy to rush through herself and into the man.

His pale face started to fill with a healthy reddish colour, his bony features seemed to become a bit stouter. He groaned again, this time much livelier. He lifted his head. Eyes teary with gratitude, he tried mumbling something, but Maeve hushed him, and forced herself to smile.

'Preserve your strength,' she said. 'The Crownguard are now taking you to the tents. You are expected to answer some questions. Do not be scared. Just do what you are told, and all will be well and fine.'

She felt as if her tongue was burning upon uttering those false words, and the relieved look on the weathered man only made matters worse. She helped him on his feet then watched helplessly as two heavily armoured Crownguard escorted the man towards the heart of the camp.

The makeshift tents and pavilions filled the beach in a roughly half-mile radius. Torches, stuck into the dirt provided some light for the people who were running up and down, attending to duties assigned by their superiors. Planks were laid down in the mud, creating whole streets within the camp, so that moving among the tents could be convenient.

The camp itself was built at the base of the rocky mountain wall behind which the Fishermen's Fjord lied. Maeve took a glance over the bay. Flotsam and driftwood were floated by the gentle waves of the ocean near the entrance of the fjord. The raids failed one after the other, but with each attack the number of Maeve's people and the Royal troops dwindled greatly. She tried not to remember any names among the soldiers. Names were powerful bonds, and she could bare the loss of nameless warriors with a bit more ease. These deaths meant numbers, not lost friends or families. These deaths did not mean breaking apart over a dead loved one's face every single night.

She let out a deep sigh, fighting the urge to look at the night sky again.

She started to feel dizzy, so she grabbed the fence next to her, trying to find support. She was always exhausted after Healing, since the process did not only expose her to the turbulent waves of the essence but demanded resources from her own body as well. She did not mind it. She was Reborn. She could command the faelin. With its power, she could restore life itself. That was her Gift.