Fade To Black, The Curseborn Saga, Book 1

Prologue: A Mother's Farewell

7X519C | 519th Cycle of the Seventh Age

A young woman ran like the wind through the dark trees of Neverend. She was a faint blur in the night, with tears running down her cheeks, and her long white dress was ripped and tattered. Strung over one shoulder was a carved wooden bow, and on her back she wore a large leather rucksack, carefully padded with blankets, for it held two infants within.

Fear grew in her heart as weariness sank in. In all her life, she had never felt death upon her as it was now, and the true terror of it was devouring her hope. Doubt hacked at her like a lunatic with a cleaver, yet each moment she felt she could handle no more, the cries of her two infants revived her courage, and she did not give up.

"You will live, my children. This I promise you." Her words were a whisper left amongst the trees. The rain was beating like the pounding of her heart, but she could not feel it. She could no longer hear the sound of her bare feet slapping icy puddles. The cries of the soldiers pursuing her seemed to fade away with each passing step. She knew she would soon reach the Edge.

She knew in her heart that it was there that Death would finally find her.

"We thought we could change it, yet—" As she spoke, her voice drifted into the dark, where it would keep her words forever; the last and only remnants that would be kept by Éién itself. This was the realm of Soria, after all.

Droplets of water ran down her face, and she could no longer tell if it were the rain or her tears. She thought of the children's father, then glanced at a red bandana wrapped around her wrist. As she did, her foot caught one of the snake-like roots hidden in the dark, and down she went.

Twisting on pure instinct and turning her babies to her chest, she felt her back slam into one of the exposed roots. Pain wailed through her, though the anguish of her waning body was like her cry within the storm; existent, but imperceivable before the might of it all.

Despite the ever-approaching soldiers and the whisper of death in her ear, she faintly smiled as her gaze found the eyes of her two baby boys. Pushing away both the fear and the doubt, she stood up and refastened the rucksack to her back. A fire unlike any other fueled her that night — the love of a mother.

Willing herself one leaden foot at a time, she ran on, pushing the limits of her own impossibility. But the toll was there, and slowly, she was losing strength. Her body was painted in cuts and bruises. She could smell her own blood, the loss of it sapping her consciousness.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and wither away. She wanted to give up. A thousand despairing thoughts ran through her in every moment, yet she did not stop. Which was the right way to go? Maybe there wasn't one. Had there ever been? Was it her choices that had brought her here, or the fated pressure of a world too cruel?

Beneath it all, there was really one true thing left: there was only the fear of watching her own children murdered before her eyes. So, she pressed on, despite it all, further and further into the darkness of the forest.

Finally breaking free of the trees, she ran out beneath the light of two moons. She slipped as the ground changed from dirt to wet, smooth stone, and cried out in pain as one of the rocks slit open the bottom of her foot to the bone. Tumbling to the ground, she looked up to find herself upon a high precipice, looking out at blank, black skies, as far as the eyes could see.

Standing slowly, she found herself at a cliff's edge, yet not just any cliff. It was the end of their world; the furthest place in existence from civilization, known only as the Edge. There was nothing beyond it, and nothing below it. Only dark, starless sky. The cold wind of night felt like death's soft touch upon her cheek.