Bonds of Blood

The night had quietened except for the erratic rustling of leaves as the storm subsided into a rumble far away. I was exhausted and shattered, found myself walking aimlessly in the forest. My body was in such pain, soaked by rain clung to my skin, feet heavy with every step. The aftermath of what had just happened, what I had been through, all horrors stood upon me like an iron rod.

I had no direction, no purpose-just the instinct to survive.

Then, through thick undergrowth, I saw it: the light flicker faintly through the trees. At first, I'd thought perhaps my mind was playing another cruel trick-the shadow playing strange tricks in the dim light of the moon-but as I forced my way through the brush, there appeared this cabin, settled within a little open patch. Simple, yet so peculiarly soothing that its mere existence should constitute sanctuary from this vast and oppressive blackness.

I limped towards the cabin, my heart feeling a mix of relief and unease. The door, when I was approaching, swung ominously open to reveal an old woman, whose face was lined by age, yet whose eyes were sharp and knowing. She had a commanding air about her, however fragile she was.

"You look lost," she said, and her voice was as smooth and cold as the wind sweeping through the trees. "Come in, child. You need rest."

I had faltered a moment, uncertain of my action. Yet the cold within me pushed me further on, and the warmth from inside appeared to beckon to me as from a haven of refuge. I stepped inside; the door shut softly behind me.

It was a small cabin, cluttered with all manner of curious trinkets and strange relics that seemed to hum with quiet energy. The air inside was heavy with the scent of herbs and the burning of wood; rows of jars containing dried plants lined the shelves, each with a label in some ancient script that I couldn't recognize.

She motioned to a worn chair beside the fire, and I sat down too tired to refuse her. She walked around the room gathering herbs, putting them in a pot on the fire. Her movements were slow but deliberate.

"You have the eyes of someone who has seen too much," she said after some time. "But you are not the first to see darkness. Come closer. I will show you."

I was still reeling from the events of the past days, and somehow, her words just pulled me in. There was something about the old woman that was different-feeling both like home and a dreadful omen.

She handed me a worn scroll, its edges frayed and yellowed with age. Though the ink was faded, it still clung to the shape of letters, the symbols appearing to shift as my eyes moved over them. I could feel the weight of it as if the scroll itself carried the burden of centuries. Again she spoke, her voice in a low and even tone.

"Your family, boy. it is cursed. And it has been for generations."

My heart went into overdrive. I looked to her, puzzled, unable to believe that what she might be suggesting was even believable.

"Cursed?" I uttered. "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, she sat down across from me, placing her hands clasped tightly within her lap, firelight dancing across a wrinkled face and making it appear even more ancient than any other time.

"Long ago, your ancestor—one of the first Varlans—made a deal. A pact with a god of chaos, a being whose hunger for destruction knows no end. In exchange for power, wealth, and protection, your ancestor sold not only his soul but the souls of his descendants."

My throat tightened. The weight of her words felt like a stone in my chest.

"Is this why my father is dead?" I asked, shaking. "And my mother. why was she taken? Why does all this have to happen to us?"

The old woman nodded, her eyes narrowing with somber understanding. "Yes. The curse is a bond-a bloodline tethered to the chaos that once ravaged the earth. The gods of the old ways show no forgiveness. And now, that debt is being collected. Your father's bravery and the love of your mother cannot save you from what has been set in motion.

I stood suddenly, anger flaring in my chest. "But it isn't my fault! I didn't choose this!"

Her gaze gentled, though there was no pity in her eyes-just a quiet, unshakeable truth. "You did not choose it, no. But you carry it nonetheless. Your blood is stained by the choices of those before you. And it will stain your hands, too, if you let it."

Her words cut deeper than any blade.

"How am I then to act?" I asked, in a hoarse whisper. "What can I do?

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stood and moved toward a small shelf, pulling down a small, intricately carved box. It was made of dark wood, its surface covered in ancient runes, their meanings lost to time. She opened it carefully, revealing a small, glowing talisman inside—a symbol I recognized.

"It was your mother's," the woman replied. "She gave it to you for protection. But it was never meant to save you from this fate. Only to remind you of what you are."

My heart clenched as I took the talisman from the box. It was cool against my skin-a symbol of my family, the love of my mother, and the strength of my father. I stared at it-the weight of the curse pressing down on me, the weight of my family's fate settling heavy in my chest.

The last words she had whispered to me before I fled echoed in my head: "Remember who you are, remember the love which gave you strength."

My vision blinded by tears, I clasped the talisman closer. My mother gave it to me in hope, in love. But would it be enough against the curse?

I had straightened up, paced the tiny room, my mind racing with what the woman was telling me. "How do I break it?" I shouted, my voice hoarse, "how do I prevent this curse from taking any further victims?"

The old crone just regarded me and said nothing, her face an inscrutable mask.

"The answer is in the past," she said slowly. "But it's not an easy road. The evil that once consumed your ancestor still wants to destroy your lineage. And to stop that. you must face it head-on. Only then can you start undoing the damage."

My heart was racing, and while a part of me wanted to scream out in denial and find another way, I knew deep down this was the only choice. I had to face the darkness that had plagued my family for generations.

And so, in that moment, a decision was made-one that would seal my fate.

"I will do it," I said, my voice steady despite the fear clutching at me. "I will face it. I will break this curse."

The old woman smiled slightly, but there was no joy in it, just a sober realization of what was to come.

"You may be the last hope," she said. "But remember-there are things in this world which cannot be undone."

I tightened my fist on the talisman, its surface glinting in the firelight as the storm continued to rage outside.

And in that instant, I knew: the real storm was only just brewing.