The Criswell's Curse

Swiftly, he grabbed a handful of clothes hidden on a small box at the bottom of the closet. They were cheap looking, clearly worn out. After switching his attire, his hands opened a drawer beneath his desk, revealing a beautifully carved golden box with the Sanctuary’s* symbol imbued on it. A sparkling earring, tainted in a sunset yellow, contrasted the red silk around it.

Once the prince placed the item on his ear, his naturally ruby hair turned into beautiful sunlight, his eyes lightened slightly. It was a blessing that allowed him to change his physical appearance while confusing the people who saw him. No one would tell who he truly was, not until he removed it.

As Blake was heading towards the front gate, hoping to get past the guards and momentarily visit the capital, someone surprised him. A beautiful woman with raven colored hair, tied up in two singular braids around her head while a handful of strands framed her face, gracefully stood in front of the gates.

“Only Lady Ophelia may enter the palace.” The guard stated loudly.

At that moment, he realized who she was. Hoping to remain out of sight, he hid behind a tree, observing her from afar. Her pale skin seemed as soft as the prestigious silk imported from the south, as her beautifully shaped lips carried cherry petals in its color. Catherine had failed to describe her beauty, her appeal. Ophelia wouldn’t please his tastes; she would please anyone unless they were utterly blind, voided of any sense.

The words that left her mouth were obnoxiously sweet, bewitching, forcing the heart that had been frozen in the snowy desert, to faintly beat again. Her deep black hair was unique indeed, but it didn’t compare to the crystal she wore in her eyes, shimmering with hidden feelings, thoughts to only the chosen ones had the key to.

“Right this way, milady.”

Ophelia quietly followed the guard and, as if a powerful sense of curiosity had entranced him, so did Blake - he couldn’t stop himself. But the further they walked, the stranger everything became; the room she entered wasn’t one of the usual waiting rooms, in fact, the last time someone used this wing was over a year ago, right before the king fell ill.

I shouldn’t intrude. Blake knew the real reason behind her visit, as she was currently engaged to the Wharton’s eldest. It was rude to meddle with another’s affairs, especially in relationships.

Quietly, he backed away, escaping to the garden filled with tall trees and large bushes, each with beautiful flowers crafted by mother nature itself. As he inhaled the fresh air from the environment surrounding, he found himself more relaxed, back to his rather normal self.

“Is this what happened to them...?” As the prince leaned his back against one of the trees, sitting on the ground with his shabby attire, confusing thoughts preached his soul. Like an insect who was forcefully attracted towards the light, Blake couldn’t help but accept her charm pulled anyone in, without even trying.

Frustrated, he painfully chuckled. He knew he was better than them, than those greedy nobles, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the garden, to walk away from her presence. The image of her graceful walk, her long dark lashes resting on each other, the superior aura emanating from her - all of it was too appealing, too pure.

The Black Rose... Catherine’s nickname came to mind. It suits her...

As he realized a kind smile had been resting on his lips, he understood the danger behind the situation. Without knowing, she was creeping her way into his heart, carving her roots deeply, without its owner’s permission.

Quickly, he got up, determined to leave but as he did, surprise struck him. Ophelia was standing at the edge of the window, hoping to grab the branch of the tree. His body froze, his heart stopped, throbbing. What was she doing?

She disappeared and then jumped, barely grabbing the branches of the tall tree. His core pumped like crazy, his mind completely blank, as he rushed to her. Blake’s breathing was unsteady as anxiety clouded his eyes.

What if she fell and hurt herself? What if she fell and died? She was so frail. Could she truly survive this height?

Once she fell straight onto the lower branch and hid herself, he did the same, sneaking behind a trunk. Gritting his teeth strongly, the prince’s trembling knuckles paled - an intense sense of horror darted into his soul as he realized he wished to help her, to save her from whatever she appeared to be running from.

“Where is she!?” A man’s voice echoed right after the abrupt opening of a door.

He glanced at Ophelia, seeing her crystal blue eyes tainted with fear, her arms trembling as she pushed her body as close to the tree trunk as possible. Who was she hiding from?

The horror once held in her eyes, turned into a hatred one could not begin to comprehend unless they’d experienced it themselves. The prideful grin on her lips was horrifying and yet, he couldn’t look away. Moments later, she jumped down just to hide herself again.

“Any signs of her?” Two guards were approaching, their armors clacking together, loudly.

Accidentally, Blake’s hands passed through a bush, forcing a strange sound to echo in the silence. “Did you hear that?”

He gulped. Was she going to be found because of him? Would he be the culprit behind the horror in her eyes, the trembling in her body?

“Never mind, it was just a rabbit.”

Ophelia gasped for air, coughing slightly before sinking into the floor. Her frail body shook, nails carved in her arms strongly, her teeth eating up her lips. Then she mumbled something, continuously, as if being part of a ritual.

Seeing her in such a state of despair, Blake’s heart ached. Not because he felt pity or sorrow, but because he hated weakness. He hated seeing her like this; she was a noble, shouldn’t she always be dignified? And yet, he couldn’t understand why, even despising her, he wished to help her, to comfort her.

Suddenly, her crying stopped, her body stiffened. She rose, becoming again graceful, unmatched, unbroken. Slowly, her thin fingers removed the thorns, sticks, and leaves from her clothes, attempting to look more elegant.

“What hasn’t happened yet?” Finally, he walked out. Cold eyes glaring down at her.

Strangely, she remained quiet yet not fearful, surveying the man in front of her. Her light blue eyes looked at him, piercing him ruthlessly. Blake had seen many people during the war but never someone with that aura, with those eyes; confident and ambitious yet completely numb, as if awaiting death to arrive. They were ruthless, cold, calculative, undervalued.

“Eavesdropping is a nasty habit, mister.” She said, while removing the hair ornaments, one by one. Her long hair soon floated with the wind, dropping straight to her waistline. Somehow, she appeared even prettier than before.

And yet, the prince became annoyed. Her words were disrespectful, like all the other nobles who didn’t know their place. “Do you know who I am?”

The girl simply smiled, mocking him. “Do I look like a fortune teller to you?”

The prince’s knuckles tightened. His greed had truly led the best out of him, turning him into a foolish man. With the blessing he wore, no one would recognize him.

“Well then, I’m-a-very-important-lord. I’ll take my leave. Have a good day.”

*The Sanctuary is the name of the religious organization who spreads the word of God through the people.