May's Workshop Stories

The Cursed Knife

Eternity is a long time, especially when you are trapped in the neverending darkness. The darkness you can never escape because it resides in your own soul.

Ranavalona stepped from under the arch, her umbrella held high and her long black dress trailing behind her. It was bound to get wet as its edges dragged on the damp ground, but she didn't care. It was not like she could catch a cold or anything like that. Even the umbrella was only necessary to keep up her act of mortality.

Her exhausted mind couldn't worry about those trivial things. But even in her distracted state, she knew she couldn't afford to attract too much human attention. It was enough that one pesky human waited for her at home. Her familiar. Her HUMAN familiar.

If anything spoke of her bad luck, it was the fact that she was 'graced' with such a familiar to start with. Even though the legend said that humans were beings of great power, hers just made sarcastic comments and pranked people. And now she was supposed to ask for his help.

"Why would he ever help me?" Ranavalona pondered as she left the Dark Castle. "I was the one who uprooted his life when I took him from his world, the one where humans were all that there was, the parallel universe he called it, and took him to this place where humans are revered if they could be attained as familiars but prosecuted and tortured if they couldn't. Either way, it is a form of slavery for him."

The rain was usually good at soothing her temper, but since she couldn't afford for others to know what she was she couldn't allow it to wash away all her worries like always. It didn't help that the cursed knife continued flashing through her mind as she last saw it, covered in blood and brain matter.

She didn't have anything against murder and mayhem, but cursed objects were always more trouble than they were worth. Besides, she believed in gutting your opponent up close, fairly, and not using some dark curse to do your bidding.

It was cowardly, to say the least.

"Your Highness," the familiar sarcastic voice said, pulling her out of the stormy sea that her thoughts often turned into. "Your graciousness has decided to grace us with her presence. Let us all rejoice in exaltation."

"Aatazaz, I am in a rather foul mood, so I do not have the patience for your sarcasm," Ranavalona said, rubbing her forehead as a rare aching started residing in her frontal lobe.

"Aatazaz, what have you done to my robes!" the voice of Dolores, the poor elderly lady who had the misfortune of being the housekeeper of this strange household, could be heard screaming at the top of her lungs from the laundry room. "You are the most childish and unruly man I have ever seen. Wait until the mistress returns, and you shall see how severely you shall be punished!"

"Your precious mistress is already here," the unlimited supply of sarcasm that was Ranavalona's familiar said, mocking once again the love and dedication that the elderly woman always showed towards Ranavalona.

Hurried footsteps were immediately heard approaching them as Dolores hurried to meet her mistress.

The moment she reached the hall where Ranavalona stood, dripping water on the pristine floor, Dolores bowed deeply, reverence obvious in her every move, making disgust on Aatazaz's face stand out even more.

"Mistress, you should have informed me of your arrival," Dolores hurried through her words as she slowly led Ranavalona toward her chambers. "I would have had the bathwater ready immediately."

"My dear Dolores, I am not sure that even one of your perfect bath concoctions will be able to help me this time," Ranavalona said, feeling the tiredness settle in her very bones.