The Criswell's Curse

This was obviously suicidal, but my eyes needed to see him up-close, to allow a connection to be created between us or he would never leave this beast-like, survivalist state. Slowly, my figure approached his, hoping my forced composed stance was enough to hide away the lingering fears. The man was alone, in this dark, dreadful place for God knows how long and, deep down, a part of me pitied him, but regardless, I wasn’t benevolent enough to buy him out of pure kindness.

He stood in his place, quietly, watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, which he did once my body was close enough. The slave jumped on me, allowing his chains to cling against the floor repeatedly as his large hands grabbed my neck, pushing me onto the cold, smelly stones. At that moment, my hood fell, exposing my black hair and for just a glimpse of a moment, his resolve flinched, displaying some sort of hesitance.

“I warned you.” The slave trader laughed, mocking the situation I had placed myself in, probably even thinking God’s warmth had embraced me by now. However, my body, mind and soul were still very much alive, and no matter how much that dreadful man laughed, my gaze kept on facing the slave’s eyes.

The more time passed, the stronger his grip became and so did his pain. My body was beginning to yearn for oxygen but, instead of struggling, I simply placed my hands on top of his, adding even more strength to his grip, a kind smile resting on my lips. His eyes widened, completely taken aback by my action.

I didn’t fear death. In fact, if fate was kind, it would allow me to die today, to this man’s hands and then peace would follow. Thankfulness would voyage through my soul as such ending was far greater than burning alive. But I knew such thought was a simple, silly desire that would never come to be.

“W... W... Why do you... wa-want to buy me?” His voice was rough, forcing him to gulp several times just to ask a minor question. It seemed like he hadn’t consumed anything in a while.

“I... I...” In a pitiful attempt, my vocal cords tried to emit the most basic of sounds, but his grasp on my throat was too strong for anything to come out.

The world had begun rotating around me as my cheeks became more and more flushed. Noticing it, he released his hands and straightened his body on top of mine, allowing his knees to lock my legs into place. Almost immediately, I gasped for air and coughed repeatedly, raising my torso to the side, tears flowing through my eyes.

Seeing he wouldn’t need to hide another corpse; the slave trader made another comment. “You’re a tough one, aren’t you, Miss?”

Ignoring the man’s sarcastic question completely, a groan escaped me before finding some remnants of strength in me. “Three years. Protect me for three years and after that, you get your freedom.”

The slave frowned, suspicious of my strange proposition. His eyes continued to analyze me closely, observing my body and memorizing my expression as fingers massaged the bruised neck, attempting to regain some stability in my now coarse voice.

Seeing how reluctant he was, a sigh escaped me. “I can just get someone else if you aren’t interested.”

The slave removed the pressure from my body, allowing me to get up and lean against the wall. Displeased with how this deal was going, the trader opened the door and approached us. “I told you; he needs training. Come, let me show you the rest of my highest-end products.”

The bald man placed his right hand on top of my shoulders, intertwining his finger in my charcoal hair, a certain greediness clouding his judgment. Suddenly, the sound of chains clashing echoed, and I glanced backwards, just to see the slave grabbing the tip of my cloak closely.

“I’ll do it.” He said as loudly as he could, eyes filled with determination.

“What did you say, little shit?” The man who was forcefully leading me out of the cell let go of his grasp on me and turned towards the slave. Realizing what was about to happen, my hands grabbed his left arm and glared at him coldly, forcing him to drop the flaming torch on the floor, close to me.

The moment it landed, the slave kicked it away from my presence, preventing it from harming me. It seemed that, for once, I had made a wise choice.

“He is mine now.” I smiled coldly, forcing the scarred man to scorn at me, his lips pressed together into a thin line as chunks of healed flesh passed through his skin. “I’m sure the amount you saw in your office will suffice, wouldn’t you agree?”

Even though he was reluctant and didn’t want to, he knew a deal was a deal and if he intended to receive that bag filled with gold coins; he needed to let this slave go. Seeing him nod, relieve darted through my nerves. “Let’s settle our business, then.”

“Do come again whenever you need. We have new merchandise every week.” The slave trader smirked as we stood in front of the first entrance door, the one right at the top of the stairs. About to turn and head back, he grabbed my hand forcefully. Slowly, he approached my ear and whispered. “And be careful Miss Criswell, it’s so easy getting lost these days, especially pretty young ladies like you.”

Getting lost or getting kidnapped? I couldn’t help but snort at the man’s pitiful threat.

With a bitter smile on my lips, my hands pulled the hood back, covering my hair once again. “Don’t worry, Schneider, if I ever get lost, this is the first place the Duke will search.”

His eyes widened in complete disbelief. However, I didn’t give him an opportunity to question anything further.

“Let’s go.”

The slave covered himself with a dirty hood and even though his hands and ankles were now chainless, his neck still had a very thin collar made of silver. According to the man, the matching ring he’d given me was used to control slaves. Every time I wished to punish him, all that was necessary was to squeeze the big, bright jewel in the middle and it would send an electrical shock down his body.

When I tried to have the seller explain how this strange device worked, he refused to tell me. Secrets of the business. Was the only answer that left his crooked lips.

Years ago, in the Criswell’s mansion library, my interest lied in reading books and a few of them held some information regarding these unusual magical objects - Relics, they call them. However, the information about them was scarce, as if humanity was forcefully deleting their existence but, even then, from the shallow contents provided, I was able to learn a thing or two.

Supposedly, there exist three different worlds: Divinity, Mortality and Blasphemy. In the world of Divinity, God ruled over the Angels, as they guided us, simple humans who lived in the world of Mortality into righteousness, however, the Demons that followed the Devil’s rulings on the world of Blasphemy tried to lure us into sinful actions, guided by greed and lust.

It was said that relics were ancient objects that had been with us for thousands of years and by analyzing the power imbued into them, one could discern them into two different categories: if a being from Divinity placed its power within, then it was known as a Blessing; on the other hand, if a being from Blasphemy inserted its domain, then it was called Wicked.

Nowadays, there were barely any known relics left, being most of them lost in the memories of the knowledgeable skeletons in the unnamed graves all around, however, the fanatics that believed in their veracity and power, went to extensive lengths just to find them, and to sell them to the highest bidder.