A Curse Written in Gold

The memory never returned as light as a dream. Instead, it came as a sharp blow, a claw that scratched her mind and tore her heart. All she had to do was close her eyes, and in an instant she was there again, a prisoner of that past that gave her no respite. The floor was freezing under her bare feet, so much that her bones vibrated. Torches burned along the walls, spewing tongues of fire that twisted and stretched like demonic shadows, ready to chase her even in her closest nightmares. Before her stood a golden throne, imposing, covered in ivory and garnet skins. Under other circumstances, she would have admired the incredible craftsmanship, wondering how much time and how many hands it took to forge such a masterpiece. But not that evening. Not in that suffocating hall with silence and fear. In the flickering light of the torches, that dark red no longer seemed woven: it resembled blood.

Yours, a thin voice hissed inside her, crueler than a whisper.

Her husband appeared, and her body began to tremble. His dark eyes exuded the same ferocity as those who know no defeat. She knew what he was about to say before his lips even moved. Arabella bowed her head, unable to support those cesspits, frozen as stone.

He laughed. She cried.

«We won. Orthelion no longer exists. I guess you'll lose the desire to escape now, since you have nowhere left to go back.». He had won the war. He had annihilated her people. The images piled up like waves crashing relentlessly. The library filled with voices and laughter, where she spent her afternoons with Alex. The palace with the white columns, where she ran to hide with Elvira, amid the desperate screams of the servants who tried in vain to find them.

The temple in the center of the city, vibrant with music and knowledge, the beating heart of their culture.

All swept away.

All reduced to ashes.

All because of him.

A look filled with hatred rose from her teary eyes to pierce the man above her.

The man who was supposed to protect her and who instead had annihilated her, broken her to such an extent that there was nothing left to break.

A sob escaped her when she saw his smug grin.

So, she went crazy.

With a sudden dash, she lunged at him. Hands to his throat, nails sinking into flesh. The surprise made him stagger and fall under her. For the first time, he was the one left breathless, and she felt a flash of victory at seeing the bewilderment in his eyes.

He didn't expect it. Not from her, docile and silent, who had never dared to rebel.

He clenched in blind fury, feeling his accelerated beat pulsate under his fingers. A guttural laugh broke her throat, growing into a sound that didn't even sound human.

He was wriggling, but the air was failing him. She, on the other hand, felt light, as if freed from an eternal burden.

It was justice that awaited.

It was the revenge he deserved.

He was paying. Finally.

He had never believed that he could play God, but at that instant he understood that, even if deities really existed, they would long ago abandon their world. So why not impersonate her, at least once?

The King's eyes closed, his breath broke. Freedom was one step away.

But the doors burst open with a roar, and a tide of soldiers burst into the hall.

«No!» she cried out, desperate, with a scream that made the walls tremble.

The calloused hands of the warriors tore her from her husband's body, hitting her at the base of the back of the head. The pain exploded like a burning blade.

«Leave me! He has to pay!» she screamed, as warm blood dripped down her neck and her vision blurred.

A final glimmer of conscience allowed her to hear the King’s icy voice, hoarse but firm:

«Take her to the red room.»

Then, the darkness swallowed her.