The King's Call came an hour to midnight. The alarm rang hollow and wan, a ghost of a sound that sent men and women running to heed its call. The royal guard mobilized within minutes. The entire castle was up in arms, braced for oncoming disaster.  

Gi'an stifled a yawn. The night was proving to be a disaster alright; less treason and death, more senile King flying off the handle over a misplaced trinket.

"Find anything?" Gi'an called. The question bounced off marble angels and carved headstones, filling the wide chamber with sound.

"Nope," Rose called back, popping the 'p.'

"I found a shoe," Taylor said. "Pink, five-inch heel."

"Put it back," Gi'an called.

"But it fits me," Taylor protested.

Gi'an paused to rub at his forehead. A headache was hatching just behind his right eye, ready to burst through the shell of his skull. "Take the damn shoe, just keep looking!" he hollered.

 "Yessir!"

The world went quiet again. They were deep underground, and the silence carried the weight of the world above their heads. The flicker of torchlight was barely enough to see by, let alone ransack a mausoleum the size of a small city.

"Ten minutes to midnight," Taylor called. His voice came back distorted, the stone leeching off the teasing tone and all else that made it human.

"We'll be here 'til morning at this rate," Rose moaned.

Gi'an marked a light up ahead. "You're too far afield," he called to whoever of the two had snuck past him.

Neither owned up to it, so Gi'an made his way between brooding statues to where the glow was brightest. He found himself in a circle of open space. The floor glistened, inlaid with colorful pieces of glass that wove around a single block of unadorned marble.

Atop it sat a girl without eyes.

Gi'an had stopped walking at some point. He couldn't feel his legs or hands but his throat hurt, jaw clenched tight to deny his fear an escape.

The eye-less girl cocked her head. "I see you," she said, and beckoned him forward.

There was a bracelet around her wrist. Gi'an knew that it was the one they sought. His body moved without his command, approaching the barren tomb.

The girl stood. She made no sound when she walked, and her hand against Gi'an's cheek felt like the caress of a marble statue.

"He sent me three this year," she cooed, "So very kind."

Gi'an closed his eyes in betrayed misery. "One," he rasped. "The King sent you only one."

"You?" the girl asked.

"Please," Gi'an begged.

"You may tell them to go," the girl decided.

Gi'an called for his team to retreat, and listened to their fading footsteps with cold relief.

"So very kind," the girl repeated. Her hand slid up Gi'an's cheek to cover his eyes. Gi'an felt the cursed bracelet over his lips.

He felt her fingers when they dug into his eyes, too, plucking them out one by one.