The Cursed Wish | ONC 2024

Ch 1: The Circle of Promise

The princess leaned in the dirt, setting stones as the chants of the Brothers reminded her of all the things she knew to be right and wrong in the world. The fairy circle formed before her, rising from the placed pebbles and rocks. They were nothing but a plea. A great shout into nothing with little answer.

Estefania was twenty-one years old today, and no one seemed to remember. Not that there would be a party at the monastery. The Brothers didn't believe in frivolity or fairies either. They thought magic corrupted, and the tradition of setting a wish ring was practically sacrilege.

Not that it mattered. 

The fairies were all gone. Their empire was nothing but a crumbling isle. There was no one left to grant any more wishes.

She didn't know what possessed her to set up the stones. Maybe it was just a faint bit of hope kindled in her soul. Her mother had wished for great wisdom. It was what attracted a prince to her door.

Still, in all of her mother's gifted forethought, she hadn't seen the fall of the fairies. Or her own demise giving birth to her third child.

The princess knew that fairy magic was powerful. The Fairy Empress had blessed Estefania's birth and sealed her with a magical kiss, which was the highest honor from a fairy. She was the rightful heir of the kingdom of Sahar, except Estefania hadn't stepped into Sahar since she was a toddler. Not since that dreadful prophecy started echoing from the destruction of the fairy isle.

Estefania set the last stone in the ring and drew the lines in the dirt to connect the rocks. The dusty ground clung to her tan finger. She wondered if this magnificent desert was anything like her home, Sahar.

The monastery was difficult to reach. The blistering sand cut her off from her homeland. The sun beat down to bake anyone who tried to cross without sufficient supplies, and since the demise of the fairies, it had only grown more inhospitable.

The exile was intentional. Her grandmother, the queen, was certain that her grandchildren could not return to Sahar until the curse was lifted. She'd sent each of her grandchildren away to a different, safe location.

Estefania knew her baby sister Avangelique was securely in the court of their neighboring kingdom, Cyra. She'd received a dozen or so letters over the years from Avangelique detailing her adventures with the younger prince of Cyra.

Her brother Bastien was safely ensconced in the neutral city of Nene, away from politics. He wrote more letters than Avangelique, but they usually arrived all at once every four months with the monastery's supplies.

She hadn't seen more than portraits of her siblings since she was four years old. She still remembered the night her mother died and her grandmother called her into the throne room. The queen blessed Estefania and put her hand in the Reverend Father's before they were whisked off on horseback.

Her grandmother's eyes still haunted her dreams. Honey-colored pools full of love and worry begged Estefania to stay safe.

Estefania worked hard at the monastery. The Brothers made sure she was well-educated, and her grandmother's advisor, Vizier Solomon, had taught her all the skills of a queen.

Still, she longed to return home. Her grandmother wouldn't live forever. Her father had made that clear in his last visit a year ago. Since then, Estefania begged Solomon and the Brothers to allow her to return to Sahar.

They claimed it was too dangerous, and they could not defy the queen of Sahar. Estefania had tried to brave the desert herself, but she couldn't carry the supplies needed to reach Sahar or Cyra alone.

The stones circled in front of her, making a perfect circle. Her lines drew a wheel and an oval around a stack of stones in the center of her shrine. She'd sanded the final stone into a heart to place on the top of the stack.