Carissa blinked, something stirring her from her sleep. The sky was a charcoal gray, darkened by clouds and the coming night. The ground was cold and hard beneath her, and the chill air numbed her skin. The field was littered with rounded stones, some unmarked, some etched with a name and date.
The graveyard.
She must have fallen asleep while sitting by her mother’s gravestone. Carissa’s gaze landed on the stone in front of her, her chest tight and heavy.
Marissa
Born: 54th Day, 1st Season, 770th Year
Died: 80th Day, 2nd Season, 788th Year
Marissa had died eighteen years ago, the day Carissa had been born. Carissa tucked her knees into her chest. Why had Marissa thought the fulfillment of a prophecy was more important than her life? And if it was passed by blood, how had the Curse begun? Had it always existed?
Carissa rubbed her thumb over the divots forming the letters in the unassuming stone, the size of her combined fists. She felt the strange urge to cry over the mother she’d lost, but no tears came. In truth, this woman was a stranger to her.
Carissa thought back to the woman she’d called mother for the past eighteen years. The fine wrinkles in her eyes. Her sunshine-colored hair fading to silver. Her hard blue eyes, thawed occasionally by laughter. Recalling their last words still made her chest feel raw and her head thick with exhaustion.
Perhaps her birth mother would have better loved and accepted Carissa. She’d given herself to a man before she was wed as well, though for different reasons. Carissa cupped the top of the gravestone and stared out at the others.
This was a graveyard for the poor. Richer citizens would likely have private graves on their property. The field extended to the edges of the darkened forest. A few stones were so frequently visited paths were worn down to them and withered flowers graced their rounded tops. Field grass as tall as her knees obscured the neglected stones.
Something moved at the edge of the field, and her breath stuttered. It was the silhouette of a man. No, multiple men. Three. Even from across the field, she sensed their regard. Yet they hadn’t approached her. Why? Perhaps they were just curious?
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were ungrateful.”
A man’s voice came from behind her, and she startled before twisting to face him.