"Isn't it beautiful?" Silas asked as he heard Morana open the door to his office, returning from her journey through the Lost Abyss.

Her limp and the scent of fresh blood had turned the eyes of many as she traversed through the hidden streets — Blood Pixies who licked their lips from their stall offering debt collection, Orcs had bared their teeth from the bounty board knowing she was the assassin who stole most of their work. She could do nothing but ignore them, the weight of Silas' response to the news she would bring growing heavier and heavier on her shoulders.

They were soon distracted by the Necromancer's Curse anyway — gaping at the wall of magic that surrounded the island. Panic had settled in some while others had grinned menacingly, already thinking of a plan to take advantage of the strange shield that nobody could explain.

Morana had been the only one unfazed.

Her boss had a similar smile on his lips, gazing out of the window behind his desk with a wine glass in hand. Despite being in the middle of The Lost Abyss — a slum for the poor, the outcasts, and other miscreants of the like — his office was filled with riches and jewels beyond a commoner's imagination. It was difficult to tell whether they were bought with the money he earned from his puppets or if they were stolen. Paintings and intricately unique weapons hung on display on the walls, and a deep emerald carpet with yellow, floral embroidery ran between them from the doorway to his desk.

"I never thought I would see the day when this plan would finally fall into place." He turned, his chair spinning with him, and his joy faded as he took in the assassin before him. "You're dripping blood onto my new carpet."

Morana trudged her way to the seat opposite Silas and slumped into it, eyeing the elegant decanter on the desk. "There was a mishap on the way back from the mission," she murmured.

"Of course there was. Why was I expecting anything less from you?" His words stung more than the wound pulsing in her thigh. Silas pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Did the ship make it in?"

She nodded. "I watched both the king and his brother step onto the island's dock to make sure they were onboard."

"Excellent. So, what about this mishap?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the sides of his chair. The cuffs of his dark, gold suit slid up his arms as he did so, revealing a tattoo of a snake coiled around a skull — a permanent reminder of the desperate deal he made for this plan.

"Some of the Wyrith royal guards tracked me down again on the way back. I had no choice but to fight them." For the past year, guards had been hunting her every move. At first, she waved it off as a coincidence — getting caught twice in the span of a month was nothing more than bad luck and that was something she was well acquainted with. When more and more soldiers kept finding her to capture and bring her back to the king, she knew that arsehole had a personal vendetta against her.

The reason for that grudge was the only thing that terrified her.

Silas' brows rose in surprise, a blonde lock of hair falling into his eyes. "Is that all? Today is good after all." A deep chuckle sounded from his chest. "There's no need to be disappointed by that, Mor. The fewer guards there are in the castle, the easier it makes our goal."

Reaching into one of the drawers in his desk, Silas pulled out a worn, leather-bound notebook and unwrapped the string that held it together. He flicked through the dozens of pages full of tallied lines until he reached the most recent ones. Each stroke of red ink was a life that Morana had taken — a reminder of the damage her uncontrolled power could do.

"How many were there?"

"Five." Morana braced herself for the fury that would erupt, watching as her boss dipped the sharpened quill into the ink pot. "... but one of them got away."

The notebook snapped shut. "What did you just say?" His hazel eyes locked onto hers, a storm brewing in them.

"It was an accident! I didn't mean for her to get away. I managed to get a bone shard in her side, but she was long gone. There was no way I would have been able to catch up to her after she stuck a dagger in my leg." Excuses spewed from her mouth even though she knew nothing would extinguish the flames that had already begun to grow.

"So this guard is alive to tell the king about everything she encountered? About your power — our secret weapon to help us win any tide of the war we're about to enter?" Silas dragged a hand over his face.

The assassin brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them to squeeze them tightly, ignoring the burn from the stretch of the wound. "She could have bled out on the way back."

"Could have is not good enough. You better pray to that Goddess of Death that you worship that she meets her end. Otherwise, this Necromancer's Curse would have been for nothing."

"I really am sorry. As soon as my leg is properly treated, I can start tracking her down and finish the job," Morana offered.

"By that time, it will be too late. I'll send someone else to clean up your mistake. You're needed for the next part of the plan." Her boss downed what was left in the wine glass and rubbed his temples. "Did you happen to have that necklace on you, by chance?"

She instinctively reached for the jewel hanging on her chest to find it wasn't there. Every time she paid Silas a visit, she hid it so he couldn't get his greedy fingers on it. Since she had first met him, he had been trying to find a way to claim it for himself and she never knew why. Sure, it added a little chaos when she used her magic, but it was all she had left of her mother.

"I might have."

"You know that gemstone is nothing but trouble. This happens every time. Every job I send you on ends in one problem or another." His blaze of anger fizzled out until it was nothing but a mere annoyance prodding him over and over. "What really happened to cause this? It can't be a simple matter of her avoiding your bone shards. You're more talented than that and we both know it."

The assassin turned away, focusing on anything — the silver trinket dish that held various, strange ornaments, the golden cane that was tucked to the side so Silas could easily access it — but her boss' softening gaze. "I recognised her from back then — from before everything happened." Her voice was merely a whisper, as if she didn't want to admit her past was still besting her even now.

"Those royals are nothing to you now. We've spoken about this before." He turned his head to the side, regaining Morana's attention. "If they want to abandon what could have been their best asset and leave you to fend for yourself, that's on them. You don't need to cling to the life you had before."

"I know," she said with a roll of her eyes, at the statement she had heard dozens of times before. The beginning of her childhood wasn't a piece of lint she could just flick off her shoulder, it was a dark rose with roots and thorns that buried itself into her skin. "I don't remember exactly who she is or was. She was only familiar, that's all."

"You're lucky there's not another soul who I can trust with this plan. Or else, you know what would happen."

Morana weakly nodded. Memories of ocean waves pushing her further and further into its clutches emerged from the shadows of her mind she had shoved it into. The cool metal of a blade pressing into her neck and deeply slicing the skin that it met sent gooseflesh racing across her arms.

"Now that the veil is up, this island is finally on its way to being claimed by its rightful rulers. Nobody will be leaving or entering the island for the foreseeable future."

"Are you sure this is going to work? There are a lot of people that are going to die."

Silas never had gone over what his plan entailed, but Morana trusted him. Her boss' mind worked in guileful and devious ways, letting him craft the most ingenious schemes that she had ever seen. It was another reason he had become such a formidable force.

"Are you doubting me?" His eyes narrowed, the accusatory glare sending shivers down her spine.

"No! Not at all."

"Good. You forget we know more than the information passed down through royal generations." Reaching over to secure his cane, Silas stood and made his way over to the bookshelf that towered beside them. While the old wood was chipped and rotting in places, it still held the countless number of books that he had collected over the years.

He pulled out a thick, grey tome so it stuck out and tucked his fingers underneath the spine, revealing a secret compartment which held what he was really after. Gnarled hide from a creature the Gods had long forsaken wrapped around the aged parchment. Each vein and callous told a story of the battles it had survived. Golden buckles trailed down the side, giving the bindings and spine extra support. The faded metal matched the shade of the tabs that stuck out of the pages, marking important information.

"As soon as this island is ours, we'll restore the peace that everyone will crave. We will be the saviours of Wyrith. No longer will we be looked down on and kicked into the dirt. This island will learn to respect us one way or another." Her boss placed the grimoire on the desk as he returned to his seat and attempted to pry open the pages. The book refused, clamping down on the parchment like a mutt with iron-forged teeth.

A downside to grimoires with ancient magic is that they only opened to those they deemed worthy and when they saw fit. It belonged to the necromancers who had once ruled Wyrith before the humans had banished and hunted them until not one remained. Before their twin sovereigns were burned and their ashes were scattered in the wind, one final curse was placed on their slayer.

"If you would like this island so gravely, you may have it. You Humans are nothing but insatiable and invading creatures. Once your ruling bloodline comes to bear twin sovereigns as we are now and they come of age, plagues will spread throughout Wyrith and end the lives of every living being. After the curse has completed its task, you may rule over an empty shell. The next twins will bring turmoil and anarchy, just like we have experienced."

The final words had been recorded and passed down through the royal family, drilled into each heir's skull until they knew it off by heart. Thankfully for Morana, she was part of the royalty that would be safe from the curse. However, she was also one of the twins that would bring destruction to everyone else.

Silas had been able to open the grimoire that they left behind once to find out a few secrets about their reign and the gifts they possessed, but that was all before it sealed again. He had refused to tell Morana any of them, no matter how much she bargained or begged. It was her birthright to know how her ancestors had ruled the island and how she existed. As far as the assassin knew, she was the only necromancer left.

On occasion, she had snuck into her boss' office when he was out on a mission to have some personal time with the grimoire. Even then, it still wouldn't open.

"I need no setbacks or failures for the next stages of this plan," Silas began, pushing the tome to one side for later use.

"Nothing like that will happen again, I promise."

"I wish I could believe it." He pulled a slip of paper from inside his suit jacket and extended it towards Morana with two fingers. "Tomorrow, you'll be meeting Prince Damian at this disclosed location. All you need to do is bring him back to my office without any trouble."

She opened the paper and found the words Stargate Port elegantly written inside. "I won't let you down."

"We'll see about that. In the meantime, take care of your injury. We don't want it slowing you down." Silas turned to a draw in his desk, dismissing her without a further word.

Defeat sunk in as she stood and turned to leave. She was so close to making him proud for once, but she had gone ahead and ruined it. Before she could make her way to the door, her boss' voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Mor, before you leave, I have a little something for you." As the assassin returned to her place opposite him, he pulled out a small, velvet box and placed it in front of her. "Happy birthday. Your twentieth is a special occasion, for you and the island. Let this mark the start of something new."

While he could be cruel, Silas was also sweet when he wanted to be — mostly when he needed something out of someone. He was the man who had saved her from the ferocious grip of the Molten Sea all those years ago. The man who had taken her in and cared for her when no one else would — despite what she had done. Nobody could forgive her, not even herself, but her boss had welcomed her with open arms.

With furrowed brows, Morana opened the box and found a vibrant, purple ribbon inside. A smear of blood stained the corner of the glittering fabric, a remnant of that night, but she would recognise it anywhere. She had the same one tattooed around her arm, twisting around it as a permanent reminder of the first failure — the event that earned her the title of Cursed.

It was her mother's.

She had worn it every day, woven into her hair in one fashion or another. When she died, Morana had never gotten to see it again.

"How did you get this?" She breathed, stroking the material with shaking fingers.

"That's not for you to know." He shut down the question with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you." She shut the box and held it tightly, hugging it against her chest. Out of everything the assassin had dreamed of, another piece of her mother to cherish was more than she could ever ask for.

"Get some rest. I want you on your best guard for tomorrow. The fate of the island depends on you."

Chapter Word Count: 2,537
Total Word Count: 8,499