Accursed

Prologue - Dancing with the Lights

"Yng nghoed hudol, lle mae'r pwca'n byw,

Eu hud a wna'n disgleirio'r nos wrth i'r ysbrydion annwyl ledaenu.

Ymhlith y coed hynafol, mae eu chwerthin yn llenwi'r awyr,

Yn ein harwain trwy'r cysgodion, gyda doethineb heb ei ail."

The words echoed and bounced off the trees as I sang the lullaby that my parents would sing to me, Yr Hafan Hudol. I always desperately wished that the trees would sing back to me. I'd always found myself completely at home immersed in the forest brush that lay just outside my cottage door.

Father and Mother were not happy when I went out into the woods and seemed to get lost. But I wanted to be at home—with the woodland animals, the trees, the flowers, the birds, and the lights. The lights only appeared when I ventured into the forest by myself. I would go to the forest at any point in the day, even at night, when the lights were the most pretty.

Before the sun would set, I would run back to the cottage to keep my parents from getting too angry about my disappearances, the lights dancing with me until the opening of the brush. Mother was a little more understanding than Father; she enjoyed being on the move, especially near water, which she would like to frequent most. I, too, had a strong love for the water, but to crave it, to live it, to breathe it was simply too much.

This day began the same as any—a venture out into the forest to feel the most alive. But as soon as I heard the shouting and screaming coming from our hidden cottage, the forest, in all its vibrant liveliness, seemed to hush as if it was listening too. At first, I thought it was simply a screeching bird—that was until the shrill sound pierced the darkened branches of the shaking trees. I didn't even think as I was on my feet, running away from the nurturing arms of my leaved friends.

The forest sang back to me as I burst from the brush.

"Yng nghoed hudol, lle mae'r pwca'n byw,

Eu hud a wna'n disgleirio'r nos wrth i'r ysbrydion annwyl ledaenu.

Ymhlith y coed hynafol, mae eu chwerthin yn llenwi'r awyr,

Yn ein harwain trwy'r cysgodion, gyda doethineb heb ei ail."

Smoke rose slowly and silently from the chimney as I pushed myself faster to the wooden, mossy door. The door was already slightly ajar, and I slammed my shoulder into it, nearly tumbling onto the soft, earthy floor from the force and adrenaline in me.

Upon entering, the house seemed deserted, but that only meant that both of my parents were together somewhere here. My pointed ears perked to pick up the faintest sobbing emanating from my brother's room. To not startle my parents, I crept stealthily towards the room. A dim candle was lit inside, allowing an alluring glow to fluctuate over a little space in the darkened, damp room.

I let my eyes adjust to the lighting and peered upon the shadowed backs of my parents. I saw the back of my father's head first, his dark curls made black by the darkness around him.

His broad shoulders were tensed as one of his arms was tightly wrapped around my mother. Her short blonde hair turned to a burnt honeycomb with the light illuminating her the most. With her entire body shuddering, her shoulders bounced up and down hysterically as she wept over my brother's bedside.

Still not wanting to alarm my parents, I shuffled my bare feet against the cold, damp soil and slid up to my mother's unoccupied side. Without even glancing up at their tear-stained faces, my eyes fell on my brother.

He lay there still with his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his arms folded neatly over his abdomen. He had inherited Father's dark, curly hair, a stray strand of it resting gently on his forehead, but he had the chubby cheeks that came with his young age. The strangest part was that I'd never talked to my brother before. He'd been in this state ever since I can remember. With that, I'd also never seen genuine happiness in my parents' faces when they didn't know I was present.