Curses
In which Astoria gains something that they cannot give back.
For context, they are about sixteen here, and this takes place after The Moon Will Sing, which you can find here with the rest of their backstory series. My lore on the Bulani Empire, if you’re curious, can be found here. This is not necessary to understand the fic, but since it’s mentioned, I feel like it should be attached. I’ll be coming back to it in the next pieces of Astoria’s canon.
For those who don’t know, Astoria is nonbinary, and uses they/she pronouns.
7.3k words. Cautionary CW for mentions of blood and brief descriptions of claustrophobia.
Title: Curses by The Crane Wives
If there was anything good to be said about Astoria’s education during the time they lived at Castle Kintyre, it was their reliance on facts, the refocusing of the mind in moments to determine how to turn a situation to one’s advantage even when you felt like you were flat on your arse to start with.
Fact: they had left home two months ago with their grandmother at their side.
In fleeing their proclamation ceremony, Myrna and Astoria had gone as fast as their horses could run and got as far as Glenarden, planning to leave the horses behind in Mellyne and sail north, somewhere safe, until their mother cooled off. Their disappearance, just before their public tour was supposed to commence, was a scandal that ran through Rosinmoor like a spark dropped in a gunpowder store.
Mother, according to the rumor mill, was in distress - but Astoria knew she was more than likely furious, and thus very much preferred the rough ride north to facing her again.
Fact: Two weeks ago, while they were staying at an inn on the outskirts of Lulia, Myrna had received a letter from a colleague with exciting news.
Archeology was also full of bureaucracy, Astoria had learned, and particularly when multiple governments were involved. Their grandmother had explained that for about the last five years, there had been several countries coordinating an effort to start an investigation of the Bulani ruins near Xaaldin. Most had some connection to the Bulani in their heritage - Altazor, to the west, Prakra, to the north, the Republic of Galbrada, to the east, and the municipalities of the Catclaw desert to the south. Both Vesuvia and Venterre had been invited to participate, and while Venterre had asked for more time to consider, Vesuvia had declined, as their Count deemed such a pursuit a waste of time.
Myrna had called him “an ignorant bastard with a face like a bulldog that licked piss off a nettle”, which Astoria thought was very creative of her.
Fact: the letter had contained an invitation to Myrna and an assistant of her choice to join them on that dig, as the investigation would be all hands on deck to make as much progress as possible.
So they had left their rented rooms in Lulia and made their way to Nopal, where they met a group of fellow archeologists. It would be from there that they headed up into the mountains, Astoria the youngest among them, on the backs of leased Nopali mules and hinnies whose hooves fell as surefooted on the stones it seemed as if they’d walked the path a thousand times.
It took from dawn until nearly dusk to make the winding journey up the mountainside, but the moment Astoria’s mule crested the last hill, the glow of sunset on the ruins would be imprinted on their mind forever.
The remnants of white and grey stone - which sent Astoria’s mind racing with the possibilities of what could have been, even if what was left were only mere silhouettes of what was - were cast in ethereal rose and gold, making the greenery that grew over them seem aflame in the light. Stone stretched as far as the eye could see, spiraling out across the plateau and into the tall grasses along the horizon, interrupted periodically by a somehow still-standing column or large slab laid across the ground.
“Mind your surroundings, dear.” Myrna called, making Astoria quickly nudge the mule along to catch up with her. She would throw a smile over her shoulder, one Astoria returned, and reach out to pat Astoria’s knee once they were alongside one another.
“Sorry, grandma, it’s just - it’s gorgeous up here. The site you took me to in Prakra, to the excavation of the first palace’s basement? It was so well preserved, like they’d plucked it straight out of the time of the first empress and planted it in our day. This is so…”
“Underwhelming?” Myrna teased, and Astoria shook their head quickly, waving a hand as if to physically dispel the thought.
“No, no, not at all like that. Do you remember why you said you like facial reconstruction? Because the face of a person is what makes them unique, that the story of our faces is a story of all those who come before us to make us who we are?”
“I do remember. I was there when I said that.” Myrna laughed, reaching out and playfully nudging Astoria’s knee as their cheeks warmed with a sheepish flush. “Keep going, honey, it’s alright. I’m happy to see you excited.”
“It’s just…” Astoria waved a hand toward the stones, gesturing out to the remnants of a formation. “To me this feels like how you always describe holding a skull before a sketch. The core architecture is there, but now we have to apply the dressings. This could be any number of things, but it’s a story to be told, and…it’s overwhelming that we get to participate in such a thing.”
Myrna hummed a little before she nodded, leaning back in her saddle and tucking one hand behind her knee - a familiar gesture Astoria knew as an attempt to relieve the tension in the joint.
“You know, I’ve been on dozens of sites in my lifetime, but I can count the number of times I’ve been lucky enough to participate in an excavation this large on one hand. I hope you’re ready to be here for a while. You mentioned Prakra - we were there for a good two weeks, which I know you remember. But this will probably be a full excavation season, easily a couple of months to start, and then multiple seasons beyond that. If you don’t want this, I can always arrange for the Maollosas to take you in until I’m done. You know they’ve been offering to put you up, and Avery especially after everything that’s been going on…”
Astoria would shake their head and turn their gaze up to look at the sky, smiling a little as the stars winked back from where the sky was turning a deep indigo.
“I know, but…I’d like to see how things go here. There’s no place I want to be more.”
* * * * *
When morning came again and most of the group had secured the belongings they wouldn’t carry with them, Astoria would bound away from where their campsite had been established and toward Myrna’s side.
Myrna was currently among the rest of the archaeologists that had joined them, all going over a map of the area and discussing how best to begin surveying the site when Astoria had approached. As far as they could tell, the debate was over where to start at the moment, but the discussion was somewhat tuned out as Astoria lightly tapped Myrna’s shoulder and leaned in to speak quietly in her ear.
“Is there anything I can do to help, granny?”
Myrna shook her head, reaching up to gently pat Astoria’s hand on her shoulder. “Not just yet, dear, but don’t go too far. We might need the extra hands once we get going.”
“Alright.” Astoria nodded, shifting their weight onto the balls of their feet as they watched two of the individuals across the table from Myrna begin to bicker. “Anything you want me to do otherwise?”
“Only if you can find a way to smuggle me away from this table and to somewhere productive.” Myrna teased, but nodded, kissing Astoria’s temple and turning back to the table after asking them to be careful.
A quick trip back to the tent for their bag and their mule - named Ocaso by the Nopali family that had leased the party many of the mules and hinnies that made the journey up the mountain - and Astoria had an indefinite amount of time on their hands, which they fully intended to use. Indecision halted them briefly before they decided to let fate (a mule) have its way, and judging by a quick look at their compass, Ocaso had decided to take them northeast toward the other side of the site. As they ventured further away, however, and the voices of the working crew faded away, the gates opened to the sounds of the wide world around them.
Wind, rushing down through the pass and into the valley to rip through the grasses, high and dancing around their knees. Distantly they could smell the beginnings of a storm - fresh, earthy, with a tinge of salt from the sea just on the other side of the mountain mixed with smoke from the campsite’s makeshift kitchen roaring to life. Birds sang, somehow, in simultaneous harmony and cacophony; Astoria couldn’t help but laugh as a pair of sparrows dove down to chase one another and a snippet of their melody filled their ears, so close a wing brushed the hair off the top of their shoulder.
They knew Myrna had said not to go far, but since their path was simple once they left the site - a straight line, easy to follow back - and Ocaso seemed happy enough to plod along, hoofbeats steady and ears swiveling to catch snippets of sound. The valley ahead sloped downwards and began to curve around the mountain, and they couldn’t really get lost. To look back over their shoulder was to see the site, though the stones were specks of white in the distance, but there wasn’t really another way to go through this stretch of the valley. It had been theorized that the Bulani had chosen the spot for its defensible nature, and multiple entry points would have been counterintuitive.
Onward and upward, Astoria supposed. Or downward might be more appropriate.
Adjusting in the saddle, Astoria gently nudged the mule’s sides with their heels, urging him forward to continue on their way. But Ocaso did not move, feet firmly planted in the grasses, ears pinned back nearly flat. They frowned a little at that, loosening the reins, but Ocaso only shifted uneasily beneath the saddle and tried to turn back as the wind swelled again.
They took a moment to look around, hoping they might spot whatever was spooking the mule, but they only noticed the silhouette of what they thought was a vulture circling far overhead.
“Don’t worry, Ocaso.” Astoria murmured, patting the side of the mule’s neck before giving the reins a light snap. “It’s probably not reassuring, but you’re too big for any bird to want to eat, even the big ones. Let’s just get out of its way.”
The mule brayed loudly, which Astoria took as a sign that it was not in fact reassuring, but Ocaso tossed his head and took a few slow steps forward before his stride resumed its steady pace.
As they descended deeper into the bowl of the valley, Astoria’s eyes followed the peaks of the mountains, watching them grow taller the lower they got. It seemed, for a little while, that the only option on this path would be to turn around and head back to the campsite. So Astoria gathered up the reins again and began to guide Ocaso into a turn, seeing no way to progress forward with what was essentially a stone wall blocking them in all directions.
A shadow crossed Astoria’s face as the bird they’d spotted earlier soared down, closer to earth, passing mere feet overhead and straight for the stone; something that made Astoria flinch just watching, and reach to cover their eyes as it flew closer and closer with no sign of pulling away from the face of the cliff -
Only to disappear behind it, as if it had passed through it.
That was enough to give Astoria pause. Sure, they hadn’t seen an apparent way through, but maybe it was worth a second look before giving up completely.
Astoria and Ocaso rode further, their eyes fixed on finding that point where the vulture had disappeared, hoping perhaps if they were lucky they could find a spot with a view of the Emerald Sea in the distance.
There.
A narrow passage, barely big enough for Astoria’s knees to fit through while astride Ocaso (not that the mule would have any of it, as he balked at the idea of even attempting to pass through it) and Astoria laughed, adjusting their pack on their back before dismounting carefully.
“Alright, alright, I get it.” They laughed, patting his side and walking him to one of the few sapling trees in the valley, tying his reins neatly to it though long enough for him to graze. “Wait here. I shouldn’t be long.”
Ocaso snorted in answer, and with a quick tug to the straps of their pack, they turned to the entrance of the passage and began to walk.
In hindsight, they were grateful Ocaso had refused to come this way, particularly as the path became so narrow - in following the bend of the path it became so narrow that they scraped one of their shoulders against the stone, and there would have been no way for Ocaso to turn around - but it quickly widened again, opening again only a few long strides later.
They glanced up, touching their hand to the slab of stone that made up the exit of that narrow passage, turning it into a makeshift doorway - and in a way, it became one. The other side opened into a valley like the last, but so much smaller.
And yet, in this valley, mere yards away from the one Astoria had just come from, it felt like passing through that doorway was a completely different world.
The birds did not sing here. The wind did not shake the grass nor lift their hair, nor could they explain the fog that seemed to dull even the rays of the sun that had warmed their cheeks moments before.
Such silence, to any rational person, would have been a warning of something dangerous ahead. But Astoria had to wonder what else the valleys had to say, if the site was so close to a place like this. The mountain they faced now was Xaaldin, the last peak before the range began to slope down into the Emerald Sea, and its proximity to the Bulani site felt like more than just coincidence. Especially as the longer they looked, they noticed bits of that same white and grey stone from the site leading down further into the valley, thinking they looked just like the stairs leading down into the gardens at Castle Kintyre - swallowed by the grass if left to grow too high. And though Myrna had asked them not to go far, Astoria thought perhaps asking forgiveness would be easy if they explained it as mere archaeological inquiry.
Descending into the pit of the valley was a careful trek between those apparent remnants of a stepped path and the natural overgrowth, but their curiosity outweighed their caution, and they wanted to see where the path ended, if anywhere at all.
Each step down made their heart race a little faster, wondering what could possibly be at the end. Perhaps a temple, dedicated to a long forgotten pantheon? Or the fortress of a leader? Or even…
“…a cave.” They said eventually, standing at the opening of the cave in question with arms folded across their chest and their lower lip sticking out in a bit of a disappointed pout.
Which was…underwhelming, at its core.
However, the part of Astoria that had spent years listening to Myrna’s stories reminded them that no aspect of a civilization was truly insignificant in the process of discovery, and to have taken the time to build stairs through this valley, however many years ago? If not to the Bulani, it was significant to someone.
A few steps into the cave, where light from outside still guided their way, and they could see the path ahead split in two before it completely vanished into the darkness.
Curiosity overrode their better judgement as they dropped their pack unceremoniously to the ground, digging through it for the candles and matches that went with the small lantern strapped to the side. It took a few moments, but the match hissed against the strike board and the lantern flared to life, casting a warm golden glow onto the darkness ahead.
They knew it would be a bad idea to venture too far alone, that they should wait for someone to be with them in case they got lost, but they wanted to know if there was anything they could immediately find as evidence of whatever importance this place may have had.
Astoria reached down to the top of their boot and pulled their sgian dubh - the small, hidden blade they had purchased in Glenarden, the first blade they could call their own - out of their left boot and pressed the edge to the stone, scratching an ‘x’ perhaps three inches tall and level with their right shoulder to make their route apparent to them as they turned down the left path.
Raising the lantern a little higher, Astoria gazed past the flame and into the darkness, where the dancing light made it seem like the shadows were trying to call them forward into what might be ahead.
“Right.” They said, letting out a breath. “Here we go.”
* * * * *
Whatever this place had been constructed for, it was certainly larger than Astoria had accounted for.
Astoria had been careful to notch an ‘x’ into the same part of the wall each time, hoping that the route back would end with all of the markings on their left, but long halls melted into winding staircases and crossing paths that they had been careful to inspect before passing through, and their steps taken with great care that they didn’t eat rocks on the way around. But no matter how far they went, it seemed they found more to explore, and it became riskier and riskier to progress forward alone. They had a good mind for patterns and maps and could remember the order of the turns they’d taken, but any one of them could push their luck and send them into danger.
With a sigh, Astoria marked another corner, considering now that the smart thing to do would be to turn back and return to the site - where they were sure they’d been gone too long for Myrna not to notice - and explore with others, for at the very least the theory that this place had been important had been confirmed.
The idea of giving up, however, left a sour taste in their mouth. Astoria knew removing an archaeological object from its context was a faux pas of great proportions, and never would dream of stealing something from where it had rested, but they had hoped to be able to describe something within this place that would merit further exploration than just stairs and man-made tunnels. They had thought the further they went that they’d have more of a chance of finding that something, but…it seemed luck was not with them.
One more turn, they decided, and then Astoria would make their way back if they found nothing.
Astoria turned right at the next crossroads, the only sounds to accompany them the quiet popping of the wick and the soles of their boots thumping on stone as they made their way down another long hallway. That passage doubled back on itself, Astoria realized, a veritable dead end as they followed the fork in the hall straight back to the other side of it where they’d started.
With a huff, they notched another ‘x’, and resigned themself to the trek back towards the mouth of the cave where it had all begun. A quick glance at the watch tucked into their pocket quickened their step with a colorful swear Myrna would be proud of, realizing they had been gone far too long for someone not to have noticed that they never made their way back from their venture into the valley.
They’d walked no more than ten paces before Astoria heard a strange sound, something of…a scratching, if they had to name it, not unlike the sound of their blade on stone as they had notched their little marks.
Rationally they knew there was no way someone was behind them, but the sound was impossible to locate, as if echoing through the silence to find them no matter how small the sound.
“Hello?” They called, turning a slow circle in place, eyes darting across every flickering shadow might emerge in answer.
…ello?
…lo?
…
Silence, for a heartbeat, and then the scraping sound came again - and though Astoria couldn’t be sure, it sounded like it was coming closer. Rational mind be damned, Astoria would argue that part of them left around the same time their heart leapt into their throat trying to do the same.
They did not run, for they worried that if some animal (it could only be an animal, couldn’t it?) was here with them, running might tempt it to give chase.
As quickly as their pace would carry them, Astoria held the lantern high, looking and feeling for each of their ‘x’ marks and counting the turns. They fumbled the order by memory, but their consistency in the markings was a saving grace, letting them make their way through the tunnels both as carefully and as swiftly as they possibly could.
It would be at what should have been the last turn that Astoria began to panic a little, facing another intersection they hadn’t accounted for. The feeling of their heart in their throat grew suffocating, and they had never felt so warm as they began to look around, searching for one of their hatched markings in desperate hope that perhaps they’d miscounted their turns after all -
Astoria could have cried in relief as they heard the familiar sound of wind blowing into the cave - it made the same sound as the wind that rushed through the carriageways at Castle Kintyre - and rushed forward, easily dismissing their fears as a simple miscalculation of turns in their anxiety. Though stepping into the main passage was jarring, in its own way.
They knew they had been gone a while, as it had been about mid-morning by the time Astoria had ventured out on their own, but the mouth of the cave had been swallowed in darkness as if night had completely fallen. By their watch, if it had been correct, it should have only been a few hours, and darkness wouldn’t have been for another several hours still…
“Astoria?”
The voice that called out was familiar, incredibly familiar, and Astoria felt relief wash over them as they spotted Myrna’s silhouette just beyond the edge of their lantern’s glow, stepping forward with one hand on her cane and the other outstretched. They couldn’t help the urge to run to her, the lantern kept carefully over their grandmother’s shoulder to avoid hitting her as their arms wrapped around her. Myrna’s arms locked solidly around their waist, a near crushing grip, one
“Astoria, sweetheart, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She scolded, and Astoria nodded, tucking their face into Myrna’s shoulder.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be gone so long, but I started exploring some more and I found this place, and I lost track of time looking around…how did you even know I was here? It’s so out of the way.”
“I found your mule wandering around outside. Led me straight here when I took his bridle.” Myrna laughed softly, patting their back lightly. “You know I wouldn’t leave a stone unturned for you, you little rascal, what ma
“No, you’re right, I know you wouldn’t.” Astoria said with a laugh, starting to lean back before something clicked in the back of their mind. They paused, brows drawing together, and turned their head to look at Myrna in the low light. “Wait, granny…you came straight here? You didn’t have to walk?”
Myrna shook her head, face unreadable with the light behind her. “No, dear, your mule brought me straight here, like I said. He must have remembered the spot you left him. What was his name again?”
If Astoria had ever thought to question the function of their amygdala, they certainly had no room for doubt as their chest tightened and their breath quickened, their heart returning to what it felt like was its new home in their throat, a sense of fear growing as if to swallow them whole.
Something was wrong.
Slowly, they took a step out of Myrna’s embrace, her quizzical “what’s wrong?” falling on deaf ears as Astoria pulled the lantern over her shoulder and lifted it high enough to look Myrna in the face.
Astoria knew Myrna’s face as if it were the back of their own hand. The crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, the laugh lines, the high cheekbones and the heart-shape of her face - all of it so familiar, so comforting. A single look from their grandmother and all their worries would fade away, remind them that they weren’t alone, and all would be well again at least in some ways.
But when Astoria looked now, it was not Myrna’s eyes they found. Where Myrna’s eyes had a warmth to them, like the warmth of the northern Emerald Sea, these eyes were…void of color, black as pitch and somehow dousing even the light that reached them from Astoria’s lantern.
Its mouth twisted then into a too-wide smile, all sharp teeth and predatory eyes, pulling at their grandmother’s cheeks as Astoria stumbled back to try and put distance between them.
“Is everything alright, my wee rascal?”
There was no way out. Only the ongoing stretch of the passage behind the not-Myrna, and the realization that they had to get away, and as fast as possible.
The lantern slipped from Astoria’s clammy hand, glass shattering at it hit the stone and the only source of light winking out, but Astoria couldn’t bring themself to look back nor mourn its loss. They had only a singular thought in mind as they scrambled to turn on their heel, running blindly into the dark with no other intention at hand than to find their way out.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Everything about - whatever it was - looked like Myrna. Her face, her voice, her mannerisms...everything replicated to horrifying perfection upon first impression.
“Where are you going?” The Not-Myrna called, the tenor of her voice revealing an undertone of something deeper, something that laughed as Astoria scrambled to grab onto the corner of the wall as they careened around it. “I thought you wanted to leave. Don’t you want to go back?”
Everything in Astoria was screaming, their fingertips skating along the wall to try and find
There. One on the wall to their left, at the same height…and one on the right, as if they’d walked on top of their own path, despite checking over and over again when making the notches that they hadn’t done so.
That scraping sound from earlier. It must have…it must have made its own markings, to muddle the path they’d taken. The mere thought that whatever it was had the intellectual process to do so made bile rise in their throat. How long had it been watching them, to do such a thing without their notice?
Astoria couldn’t think of that now. Now, they had to hope they came across a way out, or hope they lasted long enough for someone to find them if they hadn’t noticed they were gone by then.
Heart racing, lungs squeezing, legs burning, they nearly dove around the corners, refusing to stop for more than a moment to assess which directions the path turned, nearly shitting themself when a path doubled back on itself because - whatever it was - was never far behind, steady footsteps underlying their own as they went.
The disadvantage of not knowing where you were going, however, meant you never knew when the route would end.
Their hands thumped against a hard wall after they turned down another path, a dead end, the footsteps growing steadily nearer as it, too, rounded the corner and down the passage toward them. Desperately they felt along the walls beside them, hoping one would reveal a new route to turn down, but their fingers - raw and aching for all they’d been dragged along the stone in trying to find their way - met nothing but more cold stone.
Astoria whipped around, hands raised in front of their chest, hoping to defend themself from whatever blow may come, their throat tight as they faced the sounds of shifting feet and felt warm breath on their palms as it drew nearer and nearer.
“Please,” they whispered, voice breaking, eyes burning, “why are you doing this to me?”
“Oh, sweetness, it’s not about what I want.” It murmured, this voice deep, as if it had done away with the facade of Myrna’s face and words once it had them cornered. “It’s so much more…”
It reached out, fingertips pressing to Astoria’s forehead, the cool tips of what they thought were sharp nails brushing against their skin -
And then it was nothing but darkness.
* * * * *
Clad in that perfect, porcelain-doll white gown of their proclamation, Astoria opened their eyes again to the great hall of Castle Kintyre, just as it had been those two months before. They stood in the center of a sea of spiraling colors, swirling tartan and silk and lace, so real they could feel their own dress move when a dancing couple swept past them, the sounds of the hall just as they remembered before they had fled into the storm mere moments later.
Looking down at their hands, Astoria looked at their palms, then idly moved to pinch their arm, grimacing at the twinge of pain that came from it.
Perhaps it spoke to their priorities that in the moment, all they could think was that they hoped this was not the afterlife they would spend forever in.
Astoria heard laughter behind them and spun around on their heel, facing its source and feeling their chest squeeze a little at seeing Sachairi’s face after so long. They’d never said goodbye to their cousin that day in Kintyre, only able to write a letter after they’d made it to Lulia apologizing for the fact that he had to hear it all from Edrine. They were still yet to hear back, lingering in the odd limbo of wondering if he was angry with them or if something else had kept him from responding.
But it was another borrowed face, they realized, finding those same void-black eyes in place of the familiar brown they knew.
“If I must credit you for the nature of your thoughts, you’re certainly the most amusing person I’ve shared company with in some time.” It mused, and Astoria stepped back as it stretched out a hand, lowering itself into a light bow.
A beat of pause, then two, as Astoria stared at that outstretched hand as if it were poised to bite them the moment they glanced away.
Feeling suddenly and surprisingly bold, Astoria’s shoulders squared, and they lifted their eyes to meet its own. They were afraid, undoubtedly. But they were tired of cowering, of being submissive, and if this was their fate, they would not balk. They would not be weak. Not again, and certainly not in this place.
“Do not pretend to be my friend when you wear the face of my cousin and my grandmother as if you can call them your own.” Astoria said, and watched Sachairi throw his head back and laugh, a sight that made them flinch for how much it made them miss the good of home. “How do you know who I am? What do you want with me?”
“Oh, let it not be said you do not have a sharp bite of your own.” It laughed, folding Sachairi’s arm across its chest and lowering into a bow, bending smoothly at the waist. “You may call me Abraxos, child. Referring to me as ‘he’ will suffice. As for what I want with you…shall we start with a dance? Even you can acknowledge that it’s strange to stand in the center of a ballroom and be the only one not dancing. A simple request from me, and if you indulge, you shall have your answers.”
Abraxos’s hand stretched out once more, and slowly, Astoria took it, letting him lead them into a waltz as the music changed again.
“There, is that so bad?”
“You promised me answers.” Astoria said, ignoring the amused chuckle that earned them. “And you still haven’t answered my questions.”
“My, my, for as much as the Luxe protest their title, they do know how to command attention.” Astoria tried to snatch their hands away, but Abraxos squeezed them tighter, continuing those careful steps despite their silent protest. “Knowing things is in my nature. Once, they believed I was a guide, helping the lost back to the path. And you, Luxe Kintyre, you reek of fear, of sorrow, or anger…all of it sings to my very soul, if you’ll pardon the expression. You’ve faced much upheaval, have you not? I would say in this very place, given how present it is in recent memories of yours.”
Slowly, Astoria nodded, and Abraxos smiled, releasing them for a quick spin before pulling them right back in again.
“Who is ‘they’?”
“I suppose you would call them the Bulani, now, though I am merely a facet of a greater concept. Abraxos, Sunione, Votarr, the serpent entwined with the mongoose, the Lost, the fifteenth, so on and so forth, all names for a creature that is one and the same. But what they are, and what they called me, are matters you need not concern yourself with. For you…consider me merely a hand outstretched in your hour of need.”
Astoria’s brow furrowed, and the music began to crescendo, forcing them to raise their voice to be heard as the world around them began to blur a little.
“What do you mean?”
The music cut off abruptly, but as Astoria looked around, they realized it was not for a sudden end to the song as Abraxos led them carefully to a halt.
Everything had stopped. Every dancer caught mid step, even their clothes trapped in a swirl of motion and smiling expressions still pristinely on their faces. Abraxos’s hands landed on their shoulders, turning them to look towards the dias at the end of the hall, where on that day they’d taken the oath and held them there as they looked.
Avery, halfway down the stairs, hand outstretched to catch Rima’s where she waited at the bottom. Myrna, to the side, Òran na H-ealachan laid across her palms as she carried it to rest back in its silk and cedar box. Edrine and Sachairi, sharing a worried glance they hadn’t caught the day of, Sachairi with a hand on Edrine’s shoulder and Edrine’s eyes turned up toward the throne from behind Rima. Their own mother, to their left, a hand resting on their shoulder in a gesture of silent approval before she too would descend the steps to join the rest of the party.
And…themself, with that forced serene smile, and the hollow emptiness they’d felt that day before the dams had broken out in that stormy courtyard.
“What if I told you that all you had to do was wish for it, and I could give you the strength and the power you need to be free of this?” Abraxos whispered, voice close to their ear. “Never again would you have to worry about swallowing it down, of pretending to be something you’re not, never again fear your mother using you as an instrument to harm others when you try to defend yourself.”
Astoria swallowed thickly, weighing their options in their mind and in their heart as they felt the presence shift and change behind them, hands still resting on their shoulders.
It was more than a fool’s bargain, they knew that in their mind. But their heart ached painfully at the idea that such freedom was right at their fingertips, and to turn it down…
Never again would they have to give up who they were for the sake of another. Never again would Myrna have to decide between child and grandchild, never again would they be Mother’s perfect porcelain doll. Never would Sachairi have to pick up the pieces if Astoria well and truly abandoned everything they were - for even now they feared that if they never went back, they would burden him with everything they hated about themself and the life they had been given.
It was as they said - the road to hell was paved with good intentions.
“I know nothing comes without a price.” They said after a moment, voice trembling. “If I said yes, what would it cost me?”
They could feel the grin forming on its face before they even turned, Sachairi’s figure gone, and incomprehensible darkness before them now. The great hall faded away to naught but a void, and the puffy white dress crumbled to ash, returning them to the comfortable attire they’d worn when they first entered the labyrinth in the blink of an eye. And there, standing in nothingness, the darkness seemed to…flex before his voice returned to them again.
“I want what drew me to you - your fear, your rage, your tears…all I ask is a taste. A few drops of your lifeblood will be enough. You, of all people, should know how fast it will replenish.”
“Two million red blood cells a second, to start with.” They said in spite of themself, but Abraxos seemed not to mind. Instead, he chuckled, his voice coming from seemingly all angles as the air around them seemed to grow heavier with the weight of their words.
“Truly a pittance I ask for, when you earn so much in exchange. Do we have a bargain?”
Slowly, Astoria nodded, then jumped as their hand was tugged out, palm facing up - then yelped as an unseen force slashed a thick line into their palm.
The blood beaded quickly, and Astoria let out something of a keening whine as their fingers were curled in, fist squeezing until the blood dripped freely into the darkness around them and seemingly vanished.
And just as quickly, the skin mended itself, leaving only a stark pink line against their palm that would serve as a reminder of what they’d done for as long as they could see the scar.
There was a low rumbling, as if the world itself were trembling, and Astoria heard a whisper in their own voice, one they’d kept buried deep and never spoke aloud. Part of them, however irrationally, had feared that if they’d said it aloud, something might answer back.
What could I have possibly done to be given the curse that is my own heart’s blood?
Perhaps that hadn’t been such an irrational fear after all.
A low laugh sounded then, and the air became near crushing, suffocating even, as if four walls had been built up around them and were slowly coming in as a vice grip to keep them from even considering the possibility of flight.
“If your blood is what ails you, Luxe Kintyre, then know this…”
Astoria could feel hands pressing to their neck, as cold as the Frozen Sea and as hot as the forges of Ardaleith all at once, and gasped as the hands squeezed, the coppery taste of blood filling their mouth and drowning out all of their thoughts, their senses, save for the last words that were spoken so loudly into their ear they might as well have been spoken into their mind.
“Know now that it will become a strength for all to fear.”
And then they were free falling into nothingness, into the void without a net, the scream that tried to claw its way out from their throat silenced by the roar of wind if it ever came free at all.
* * * * *
When they opened their eyes again, they saw the inside of a tent - the medical tent, they realized - as Myrna’s tear streaked face leaned into view. For a moment their heart leapt into their throat, but it settled once again as they saw the blue-green they knew as their grandmother smoothed her fingers over Astoria’s hair.
“Oh, gods above, you’re alright.” Myrna breathed, and when Astoria tried to move, Myrna quickly set a hand on their shoulder to get them to lie back down on the cot. “You’re alright, my darling, but please, spare my heart and stay there for a while.”
“How did I…?” They tried, but their throat felt like it was full of glass, their voice coming out hoarse and barely audible to even their own ear. Myrna seemed to understand, however, wiping her cheeks with one hand and giving Astoria a reassuring smile.
“One of the others found Ocaso down in the valley, and then saw where you must have gone. Not many of us could fit through that gap, but we managed. I’m not sure I was that helpful, bloody harpy that I was, screeching in everyone’s ears.” Myrna teased, and Astoria cracked a smile of their own. “Rest, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it more when you’re doing better. I want you to focus on that first, alright?”
When Astoria nodded, Myrna’s hand found theirs, giving it a squeeze and rubbing her thumb along the back of it the way she’d done ever since they were a small child. A familiar gesture, a comforting one, and for a moment Astoria began to relax, eyes closing and shoulders loosening the longer they lay on the cot.
The longer Astoria held Myrna’s hand, however, the more they couldn’t ignore this…pounding at their temples, which they’d dismissed as a common headache. It grew, steadier and steadier, like the pounding of a drum, filling their head until it was impossible to ignore
Astoria pulled their hand free of Myrna’s with a wince, pressing it to their forehead and squeezing their eyes shut, a small whimper escaping them as they heard Myrna shift in their chair.
“Astoria? Astoria, what’s happening?”
They barely heard when the group’s doctor came in, since Astoria couldn’t put together an answer. But when the doctor tried to pull their hand away to get their attention, the pounding that had been fading began anew - this time in a different beat, but no less steady or loud than it had been before.
“Don’t touch me!” Astoria screamed, voice breaking as they smacked the reaching hands away, folding their arms protectively over their face as they began to tremble. “Don’t touch me!”
Blindly, they kept swatting, and the more the hands that tried to grab them to calm them, the more ferocious the beating became, multiple rhythms creating a cacophony in their head that they could hardly even think over, only stopping when Myrna stepped between them and the doctor and said something that was enough to make him back off.
Astoria was curled on their side, hands plunged into their hair and tugging on the strands lightly, eyes blown wide in fear as the pounding in their head began to fade with each breath they took and each moment
It would only be when they felt leather touch their cheek - Myrna had found the gloves she’d packed in case of cold weather - that Astoria sagged, tears spilling over as their hands found that glove and clutched tightly to it.
It was there they would remain, quietly weeping, until they had simply no more energy to cry, nor do much of anything, letting sleep find them instead. Their nails dug into those seams, for fear that if they let go, they might lose the only contact they could trust, but Myrna seemed not to mind.
And as the world fell away, and Myrna carefully shifted in her seat to rest her arm beside Astoria and her chin on her arm, one thought prevailed at the forefront of their consciousness:
What have I done?
