Becoming Luna

Cursed

Voices whispering amongst themselves broke through Danica's pain-free oblivion. They seemed to be coming from right beside her, but she couldn't make out exactly what was being said as her head remained foggy.

Vaguely, she felt soothing fire running up her arm as she slowly began to feel a hand tightly grasping hers.

The agonizing fire that had been consuming her before she blacked out seemed to be gone, and in its place was a dull ache.

'Why?' The voice in her head came in just a whisper. 'Why...'

It sounded absolutely lost as it repeated the same word, filling Danica with an emptiness that she didn't quite understand. It was almost as if a piece of her was missing entirely.

Groaning, she forced her eyes open to see exactly where she was. The room around her was lit by a small fireplace and candles. Flickering warm orange and red light danced around the interior, which was made of wooden logs and what looked like mud.

To the right of the room was a desk with a shelf above it. The surface of the desk was covered in papers, along with beakers and glass bottles.

On the other side of the room, there lay a couch with a table in front of it; the table was littered with various papers and a small reading light.

".....not normal."

The two words drifted to Danica's ears, drawing her gaze to the two men standing beside her talking.

Mason stood hunched over so he could hear the small, white-haired man that stroked his beard as they spoke. He wore a white tunic shirt and brown pants that seemed to be made from some sort of animal hide. His wrinkled face was tense as Mason said something to him, and he responded with a frown.

Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Danica remained silent, closing her eyes once more. She was exhausted, and her entire body hurt from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes from her inability to change. All she wanted was to drift away once more.

"Don't pretend to go to sleep," Mason warned as he squeezed her hand. It seemed he had already been aware that she had woken up.

Opening her eyes again, she found him watching her with a look of relief on his face. The old man beside him had also turned his attention to her and was looking at her curiously. His dark eyes held no hint of emotion and reminded Danica of bottomless pits. Just the sight of them sent a shiver down Danica's spine. Not able to handle their depths much longer, she turned her focus back to Mason.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to ignore the burning gaze of the old man that still studied her like she was some two-headed creature. "Why couldn't I change?"

Frowning Mason ran a hand through his golden locks.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "No fledgling has ever run into something like that before. That's why I brought you to the shaman," he said, motioning towards the old man beside him. "If anyone can determine what's wrong, it is him."

Hesitantly, Danica moved her eyes to the unblinking black eyes that unnerved her.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered, bracing herself for whatever was about to be said.

The old man began rubbing his beard again as his bushy white eyebrows furrowed.

"I can't be too sure," he said, his voice monotone as he spoke, "but I think someone may have cursed you."

"Cursed?" Danica repeated the word as if it were foreign to her. "What do you mean cursed?"

"Do you have any strange marks on you?" the old man while his dark eyes took in what exposed skin he could see.

Did she have any strange marks? What kind of strange marks was he referring to? Maybe a strange etching on her skin or an odd-shaped birthmark.

BIRTHMARK! Danica did have a serpent-like birthmark on her hip. Could that be what he was referring to? But as long as she could remember, she had had the mark.

"Would it come across as a birthmark?" Danica asked. "I have a serpent birthmark on my hip."

Mason sucked in a breath as the shaman continued to look calm and serene.

"Serpent, I see."

Turning, he began making his way to his desk.

"Could it be one of them?" he muttered aloud as he began flipping through the papers in front of him.

"Who?" Danica eyed Mason in hopes he could explain to her what was going on, but he simply shook his head, looking as confused as she was.

"Ah ha!" the old man announced, suddenly pulling up a piece of paper. "Here we are."

He quickly hobbled back to Danica and handed her the paper in his hand.

Scratchy handwriting littered it, rambling on and on about sorcerers and magic, then going on about the different clans that existed in both their lands and the darklands. At the very bottom lay a list of the clans, and one name stuck out to Danica.

The Sarff clan.

"Is this the one who cursed me?" she asked, lifting her eyes from the paper and back to the shaman's face.

"Have you made offense to any of these clans?" he asked in return, his eyes narrowing.

Beginning to bristle at the old man's condescending tone, Danica shook her head.

"Mister I didn't even know that werewolves were a thing until three days ago. How could I possibly have offended some sorcerers?"

"Then how could you possibly have been cursed?" he countered, seeming to not trust Danica's words.

"Nigel," Mason, who had been quiet the whole time, piped in, "I brought her here for help, not for you to interrogate her."

Nigel's gaze didn't budge at Mason's words as he continued to study Danica.

"If you haven't, then this is even trickier than I thought," he murmured, beginning to pace.

"What do you mean?" Danica asked as her heart painfully constricted.

Stopping, Nigel faced Danica and said, "If you can't remember having a run-in with the Sarff clan, then locating the one who cursed you will be a lot harder."

Couldn't locate the person? Did that mean that every full moon, she would have to experience that agonizing pain as her body tried to go through the change?

"There isn't anyone else that can lift it?" Danica asked, unable to control the fear that had begun to run through her. "Please, there has to be another way!"

Nigel frowned, causing his wrinkles to deepen.

"Each curse is unique to its caster," he explained. "No other sorcerer is able to determine what each layer contains; one mistake, and the cursed could suffer terrible effects."

Danica's head began to spin as she tried to understand what the old man was saying.

"What about Ash?" Mason asked the old man. "Isn't he supposed to specialize in curses?"

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Nigel shot at him, his eyes narrowing. "Did you not just hear what I said? If he makes one mistake in unraveling it, she could suffer terrible consequences."

"Then what else should we do?" Mason demanded, unable to control his anger.

Nigel considered this as he began studying Danica, who was dealing with an inner struggle and not paying attention.

"Girl," Nigel's one word snapped Danica's attention to him, "being the one that is suffering the curse, you should be the one to decide what the next step is, yes?"

Decide on the next step. Meaning she would decide if she wanted to enlist someone to try to break it or find the caster himself. But how could she possibly find the caster when she didn't even know what they looked like? Did that mean her only choice in the matter was to allow somebody else to try to help her?

"Worst-case scenario?" she asked mentally, preparing for the answer that would follow her question. "If I allowed this Ash to try and he failed, what would happen?"

She felt Mason's hand, which still clutched hers, tighten from shock at what she had just asked. Squeezing lightly, she tried to show him that she wasn't afraid.

Nigel's face contorted toward something close to approval.

"If he tries and fails, worst case scenario, you become a vegetable from your soul being ripped to shreds; best case scenario, the curse becomes permanent and can never be removed."

No pressure, Danica mused as two sets of eyes watched her waiting for her to make a decision.