Prophet of the Gods

Chapter 1: Cursed

Destiny is the thread that binds the kingdom of Olumia together. Every child, every adult, everyone of any background, upbringing, gender, gift, and more has a destiny. Everyone has a fate decided for them by the gods. Peoples have fates of all kinds. Fates of good- healing, happiness, creation. Genevieve Delora's fate was one of destruction and despair. Her destiny is the bane of her existence- and every other person in the kingdom's existence. Her destiny is to conquer the kingdom and destroy the gods.

It was a curse from a haunted witch that sentenced an innocent young girl to her doomed life. A witch's vengeance that caused it. A curse that settled her fate and the fate of Olumia in a matter of seconds. Genevieve Delora was the one who suffered the consequences of her parents' mistakes.  Genevieve Delora was the one who ended up cursed on that fateful day 8 years ago. Her life was ruined from then on.

Everywhere she went, people stared and whispered. The Delora family did their best to keep the secret, but you can't bury wrongness. In school, she was mocked by classmates and scorned by teachers. Neighbors locked their doors and wore anti-evil amulets around her. Bullies tripped her, taunted her, broke her chalkboards, pulled her hair, and threw rocks at her delicate skin until she bled. She endured it without question. She was meant to bleed.

Everyone knew she was different, that she was bad, but they didn't know they were tempting a demon. They didn't know exactly what she was meant to do in the future. Their hatred existed due to her gift- another secret she kept, another wrong she couldn't bury.

"Gen!" screamed a voice. Genevieve shot out of her desolate dreaming and awoke in an instant. It was early morning- the sky out their tiny window was dusky blue and it was still pitch dark inside. She felt around the bed, finding no small girl laying beside her. Fear set in.

"Mira?" she yelled, worry needling in on her skin. "Mira! Are you okay?" It was dark in their cramped loft. She felt around for the lamp but hit the sharp edge of her dresser instead. "Mira!"

"Gen!" said Mira again, this time closer. Light flooded the room. Genevieve blinked. Mira was standing in front of her, her bronze face pale from the dull glow of the lamp. "They're here, come down." 'They' only referred to a specific group of people in their kingdom.

Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. "Now? But-"

"I know," interrupted Mira, "But they came early. Change quickly and come down. The inspection will start soon." 

"Are you sure-"

"Yes," she snapped. "Maya from next door saw them when she was out on her morning walk, now come on!" Mira was only 14, but she had learned like the rest of them to hide her weariness and to be strong in times of fear. Her black hair was tied back in a severe knot, her eyes were lined by giant bags (to match Gen's own), and her posture was as stiff as a board. She looked almost like Mother, even if they weren't related by blood.

The inspections were monthly events. Soldiers from the palace marched to the twenty-some towns all over Olumia to check on them. They scrutinized the houses, the people, the town- trying to see if people were paying their taxes and no one was participating in illegal magic. It was meant to prevent incidents such as the Greensdale Massacre a few months prior. Usually, they came on the last few days of the month, but it was only mid-February, Genevieve was a bit surprised.

It was difficult to change with only the dim light of a lantern as guidance. Gen slipped on one of her best dresses- navy blue- one of the royal colors of Olumia. It was best to appeal to national pride in situations such as these. Every inspection was a risk. Genevieve always had a trace of illegal magic on her- she was cursed for goodness sake. Her mother and Mistress Luna have scoured the town library as well as Celeste's Otherworldly Emporium for solvents and potions to hide her magic trace and they finally found one that works- Greta's Puring Salt. She always kept a gallon in a pouch under the bed. She quickly sprinkled the amber powder on herself now, praying it would be enough. Then she opened the bottom dresser drawer, and shoved the bag beneath the false bottom and under some blankets just in case. If they found that, she was screwed.