by L. R. W. Lee
“Just stay away,” Alden commented from behind.
Mom moved forward from where she walked with Mermin and Razen at the back, and Andy overheard her inquire, “Hannah, how are you doing?”
“My head feels like it could explode,” she replied in a whisper.
Her response drew worried looks from Lord Jayden and Lady Elmina.
“Imogenia,” Mom intoned, interrupting the sounds of crunching rocks underfoot. “I wondered if you’d come.”
The royal centaurs gasped as the spirit replied, “My queen.”
“Thank you for keeping our mission a secret,” Mom said.
“I promised you I would. I kept my word.”
Mom nodded.
“So this is it? You’ll break the curse tonight?”
“We’ll try to. How do you feel about that?”
The shimmering young lady slumped her shoulders. “Truthfully, I’m not sure. So much will change.”
“Yes…yes, it will.”
Imogenia drifted alongside the company as they continued. Jayden and Elmina kept stealing glances at her but made no comment, requested no explanation.
The quarter moon had risen halfway to its apex by the time the hulking maw of a cave came into view.
“This is it, our destination,” Lord Jayden announced. “Through there is the doorway to another world.”
Four armed centaurs blocked the entrance but bowed before their lord as the procession reached them.
“As you were,” Chieftain Cedrica commanded. “Royston, light the torches inside. The rest of us will stand watch here,” she instructed their guard.
Jayden held out an open palm. “Shall we?”
Captain Ladilas motioned for the King’s patrol to circle around as they entered the cave, hands twitching above their holstered weapons. They passed the sentries’ quarters and a cookfire with glowing coals before reaching a vaulted cavern. The ceiling rose into darkness despite the torches around the perimeter. In the center of the golden-hued dirt floor was a small cauldron.
Mom drew a hand over her heart, making the lord and lady cock their heads. Mom pulled a necklace out of her tunic and allowed the pendant to dangle. “Merlin concocted the coating for my necklace in that kettle so I could wear it.”
Imogenia, who floated near, covered her mouth.
“Your Stone of Athanasia,” Father murmured, pulling her close. He put a hand to his side where his stone had been implanted. Mermin approached and pulled his own Stone of Athanasia from his tunic.
“I had no idea what my future held when Merlin handed this to me,” Mom murmured. “I…we…were all so young.”
The three exchanged nods.
“What do we need to do to break this foul curse?” Jayden asked. Elmina patted his arm.
Andy laid his backpack on the ground as everyone took a place around the cauldron. He extracted the book only he could see, drawing murmurs as he opened to the first page. The heading read “Prince Andrew.” He read aloud:
“Diligent to collect all that’s needed,
to satisfy a debt that’s impeded.
Loyalty to your people you’ve shown,
to execute the cause, to atone.
For honor and dignity you shall be known,
To embrace these virtues, you have grown.”
Andy remembered the attributes he’d been praised for as he collected the heart’s parts: diligence, loyalty, honor, and dignity. Hearing them again, in this moment when his world would change forever, made Andy open his heart a crack and dare to embrace the truth—that he had begun to demonstrate these virtues. He pondered for several seconds, allowing the words to sink in.
He moved on to the second paragraph:
“As these elements now combine,
satisfying a greater design,
So too shall you,
growing wiser than you knew.”
Andy had known he was part of a grand design, that his steps had been preordained. The knowledge scared him at the beginning, but he had accepted the mantle in time. Now, he clung to the promise that he would become wiser as he faced the future.
Andy took a deep breath and nodded, accepting.
That message disappeared and another shone in its place:
“Oh mage, who can compare?
Diligent and faithful to repair
your friends and the land from despair.
As your reward, you may resolve
the curse you devoted your life to solve.
You held nothing back of your gifts,
Humbly giving everything it to lift.”
A thought struck Andy: Mermin and I played similar roles. But he had to persevere a whole lot longer than me. I can’t imagine…
Mermin cleared his throat and turned to Mom and Father. “I didn’t do it for wecognition. I did it because I love you.”
Mom and Father stepped forward and embraced him, returning love in equal measure.
“It looks like you’re the one who gets to mix the ingredients,” Andy said to Mermin.
The wizard stepped forward and assumed a position next to the cauldron as the next message appeared:
“The alchemist and his elements
seek to bring eternal life.
This potion with its ingredients
shall end the current strife.
Air, water, fire, and ground,
A base of eternity, make it abound.”
“We need air, water, fire, and earth,” Andy repeated. “We have air. And the ground.”
Mermin lit the coals beneath the cauldron with a thought.
“Could someone get water?” Andy requested.
Andy held his feelings about the man in check as Razen offered his canteen.
“Will this be enough?” the steward asked, handing it to Mermin.
“It doesn’t say. I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Andy replied.
With the base in place, Andy turned back to the book.
“A hair from the mane of your host,
a pledge of their unity and utmost.
A message in the heavens concealed,
The narrative now revealed.
The end of the curse’s preparation,
For the greater task’s invocation.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Sweat broke out on Andy’s brow.
Lord Jayden cleared his throat. “The stars foretold a calamity would befall Oomaldee before your curse came to pass, but they gave no indication of the timing. When it happened, our celestial guides told us the role we were to play. And so we did. We have assisted with the plan of redemption from the beginning, guarding the heart of the land until such time as this.”
Lady Elmina nodded.
“Tonight I believe you will succeed in defeating the curse, but this is mere child’s play compared to what else the stars have revealed. This is the greater message I have been given to deliver this night.”
Wide eyes met his words.
Jayden looked at Razen. “This man stands as evidence of the decimation of humanity your enemy has invoked on the citizenry. Never before in the history of the land have events teetered on a precipice so sharp.” The centaur scanned the group. “You must prevail and defeat the enemy who is readying the land for devastation never before known. Should you fail, he will utterly destroy all you hold dear.”
Father and Razen exchanged nearly imperceptible nods. And from their expressions, it was more than just recognition of Jayden’s observation concerning Razen’s bird-like condition.
What do they know?
Lord Jayden strode around the circle and stopped before Andy. “You are not the Chosen One for Oomaldee alone, but for this entire world. The skies proclaim your rise, the deliverer from a darkness so deep none could recover, save for your valor.”
A chill ran down Andy’s back, and he stiffened. He had speculated about the possibility but kept it to himself, never certain, afraid of what others might think. But now, to have it declared with conviction before his friends, family, and t
he soldiers… He tried to calm his rapid breathing.
“Do not be overcome with worry. As with this mountain, the stars foretell that provision shall be made. Remember always, you are not alone. You have the support of the rational centaurs.”
Andy stood frozen, unable to move.
Lord Jayden patted Andy’s shoulder, encouraging him, but it barely registered.
He returned to his mate’s side. “If you’ll do the honors, my dear.”
Elmina singled out one of his mane hairs and gave a quick yank. Stepping around the circle, she handed it to Mermin who dropped it in the warming kettle.
“Andy.” Father held his shoulders, standing in front of him. So overwhelmed had his thoughts been, Andy hadn’t seen him step around the circle nor heard him trying to get his attention. He roused at Father’s words: “Everything will work out, Son.” Father’s piercing eyes made Andy nod.
Andy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his breathing.
At length, he stooped and refocused. Though his mind still whirred to understand what the centaur had just said, Andy forced himself to read the next writing that appeared:
“The curse in fury wrought,
Like a flaming dragon brought.
Impenetrable covering, hard and true,
Of dragon fierce, one portion due.”
“Darn right I was furious when I got them to cast the curse!” Imogenia thrust her chin high. “But that makes it sound like I was wrong to punish him. He killed me! What would you do?”
No one commented, but the looks everyone exchanged spoke volumes.
Andy opened the compartment behind the page and pulled out the red scale Abaddon had unknowingly contributed. Andy remembered how scared he had been battling the shapeshifting nemesis the first time. But the triumph—not only getting a red dragon scale when all seemed lost but also wounding Abaddon with Methuselah’s blade—brought a smile to Andy’s face. The feat meant the villain could no longer shift to a younger form, effectively ending his immortality. If only things had stayed that way. Andy handed the dragon scale to Mermin who added it to the kettle.
Andy returned to his position and flipped back the page. He wasn’t surprised when he read:
“Cunning and venom now past,
A time to move forward at last.
Nectar of guile from whence it spewed,
Join the elements of turpitude.”
Imogenia pressed a hand to her stomach. Andy couldn’t deduce whether she felt sick because she’d created a bellicose or if some other emotion filled her, but he well remembered the trip to Sometimes Island to retrieve the serpent’s venom. Alden had been bitten and played host to the deadly poison until Hans successfully extracted it from his arm. It could have cost his friend’s life. A shiver rocked Andy’s body at the memory. He caught Alden’s nod—his friend clearly remembered.
Mermin unstoppered the vial Andy handed him and drizzled its contents into the brew.
Returning to the book, the page now read:
“Pure of heart, full of splendor and grace,
Horn of a unicorn you have embraced.
Restoring to your line honor and respect,
Lost when unbecoming actions were left unchecked.”
Imogenia scowled when she heard that last part.
“Don’t hate me, Aunt Imogenia. I just read what it said.” Andy knew the words stemmed from his aunt’s trickery: She had known Andy was to collect a unicorn horn as an ingredient and had convinced him that forfeiting the horn could preserve Mom’s life. When her treachery was discovered, her actions were declared disgraceful and unbecoming of a member of the royal family. The shaming had begun a necessary transformation in her.
Andy reached into the book. The horn grew in size as he withdrew it, reversing what had happened when he placed it there for safekeeping. Onlookers gasped.
Andy studied the horn and relived the gut-wrenching experience of severing it from Jada’s head, remembered feeling as though he had desecrated the animal. But the unicorns had understood the price of redemption and had reassured him that his reaction proved he was learning how costly things could be.
Andy rose and retraced his steps, donating the horn to the cauldron.
Returning to the book, the page now read:
“Yellow, crimson, orange, or red,
Fire-touched or unscorched, shed.
A quill of this warbler brought forth from the dead,
To negate bitterness and restore grace instead.”
The phoenix feather. Imogenia crossed her arms. She knew as well as Andy that Aray had done more than contribute a feather. The events surrounding the phoenix’s resurrection had softened Imogenia’s hard heart. She’d come to see how the hatred she harbored against her brother had changed her, and not for the better. Imogenia ran a hand up and down her crossed arms, as if warding off a chill.
Andy had anticipated the phoenix feather would be the next ingredient, but even as he read the words a pain blossomed in his chest. He pulled out Aray’s plume. Yara and Aray would forever swap places each time the phoenix was reborn. He knew the fact intellectually, but contributing the feather to the concoction felt like letting go of the last trace of his first love. He stroked the length of the crimson plume, resisting the inevitable as long as possible.
“Andy?” Mom drew his attention. Her look communicated volumes. She understood his hesitance; she’d lived his pain many times over. He closed his eyes and nodded, then rose.
Andy extended a trembling hand over the cauldron. His heart broke and tears trickled down his cheeks as he released it. Hannah’s whimper echoed in the space.
He took his time returning to the book.
He wiped away his tears then read:
“Power and majesty ride on his wings,
With strength and wisdom, he’s every beast’s king.
The black barb of the beast to the brew now bring,
A creature loyal to you, with trust his wellspring.”
The griffin’s claw. Imogenia looked to the ground, her shoulders slumping. Andy remembered the experience at the griffin hatchery as he and his aunt watched a baby griffin emerge. She confessed to knowing her pain had trapped her, but she didn’t know how to break free. Mom suggested trusting that her brother had indeed repented, but Imogenia hadn’t been ready to give it a try.
Andy remembered the riddle gymnastics Mom, Alden, and Yara had played with the griffins. When the trio beat long odds, they’d earned friends who proved loyal, helping defend them as Abaddon invaded Castle Avalon. He knew he’d forged a lifelong friendship with these majestic creatures. I’m not fighting Abaddon alone. I just need to remember that.
He rose and strode to Mermin, handing over the sharp griffin talon, which clanked against the bottom of the cauldron.
Father looked increasingly anxious as Andy made his way back to the book. The curse is nearly broken. Andy’s stomach constricted.
Mom placed a calming hand on Father’s arm, stilling his restlessness. Andy sent them both a worried look as he knelt and consulted the book. He did a double take at the page, then read:
“A final ingredient, the greatest price,
Known by the father to satisfy the vice.”
Andy furrowed his brow. “What’s that mean?”
Murmurs rippled around the circle.
Father brought a shaky hand to his tunic and withdrew a gold note. The trembling moved to his shoulders and tears began freefalling down his cheeks as he unfolded it.
That’s the gold envelope he grabbed when I rescued him!
Mom’s eyebrows slammed together.
Father wiped his sleeve across his eyes and took several deep breaths before attempting to read the missive:
“Life for life—”
Father broke down in quiet sobs and Mom eased the paper from his quivering hands.
“Life for life, blood for blood.”
Mom’s eyes grew wide.
“Life offered willingly, th
e cleansing flood.”
Her voice quaked.
“Most trusted servant, beloved son,
The curse’s satisfaction by the hand of one.
The life of the Chosen, the final cost,
Taken by the servant, the transgression crossed.”
Andy locked wide eyes with Razen, who also looked to be struggling. Mom pulled her hand over her mouth and choked out:
“A dagger to the back, the crime committed,
By the same, the evil acquitted.”
Imogenia gasped. “This makes no sense! What was that prophecy Lord Jayden spoke? This makes no sense! Who will deliver the land from Abaddon? Who will rule?”
The Chosen One will fall at the hand of the enemy. Is this what Rhyan’s vision means?
Mom turned to Father. “When did you receive this?”
“When I was imprisoned.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I?”
Mom grabbed Father. Like two ships pitching in a stormy sea, they threatened to capsize without the other’s support.
Imogenia turned to Father and yelled, “All this time, the boy is nothing more than a sheep to be slaughtered? I never— Who?”
Around the circle stunned silence met Andy: Alden and Hannah embraced. The centaurs mirrored their mutual horror. Mermin looked dazed. And Razen stood frozen, his birdish eyes darting, seeking something, anything, to lock onto for strength.