The tension in the near-vacant Council Chamber could be cut with a knife.

A fire crackled happily in the hearth, its warmth and light too joyous for the grave occasion. Silence reigned; the morning's news and its implications had rendered the four people in the room speechless. They sat at the mahogany table, all trapped in their own thoughts. It was up to one man speak first and chase the quiet away.

That man was Audren of House Menez, Lord of the Avondorian Mountains, seated at the head of the table. He did not feel qualified to speak up. He'd been inaugurated over a month ago, but the nagging feeling it should have been his father occupying the Lord's Seat still ate at his soul. His father was gone, though, and more than just his soul would be eaten if he remained impassive.

He steeled himself and spoke.

"I imagine all of you understand why I've asked you to meet me here. It has everything to do with the news Miss Relinde brought us this morning. We won't be spared after all, it seems. The Cursed are finally moving towards our home."

"I suppose it was inevitable, wasn't it?" his sister muttered, studying her fingernails. "We've lasted for so long without them showing up because Anahill is hard to reach. The mountains formed a natural barrier. But with all major Avondorian cities closest to us having fallen, it makes sense that the Cursed would turn to us next. When they arrive, they'll be hungrier and more desperate than ever."

The words sounded bleak, but Dyna's control over her voice was immaculate. There were no tremors, blemishes or irregularities to be found in it; Dyna had inherited their late mother's ability to sound regal and collected, no matter if the sentiment was genuine. Audren nodded at his younger sibling, noticed how much she looked like Mother too: Same upright posture, long black curls tied back and skin the exact same shade of light-brown, courtesy of their Far Southern heritage. Audren knew he resembled Mother as well, but in Dyna's case, the similarity was nothing short of uncanny.

"Correct. And that means we need to be more prepared than we've ever been in our lives. Relinde said it's a matter of days before the Cursed stand before our gates. It doesn't give us much time to implement a proper plan of action, but we don't have the luxury of choice. I want to discuss the few options we do have with all of you here."

They'd been lucky to have steered clear of the Cursed so far, but that blessing had come with disadvantages. Silver clouds could have pitch-black linings. The lack of Cursed in the mountains and the relative isolation of the Mountainfolk had not provided them with many opportunities to learn about the enemy they were up against.

They could have learned, had Audren's parents been successful in their endeavour: They'd taken half of the small mountain army and ridden to Chekshaw, intending to aid the Count of Chekshire and his wife, Audren's aunt, when the Cursed reached that city. His parents had been given an opportunity to learn. But Chekshaw had fallen fast and hard in spite of help from the mountains, and Audren had not seen a single soul who'd set out with his parents return. Everyone had perished, turned into cruel, blood-thirsty monsters. Cursed like the rest of them.

All it had taught the homefront was that the Cursed were an unprecedented, formidable threat.

Audren turned to the man to his right. "Mr. Valskis, as our Chief Ambassador, you've received reports from our ambassadors stationed in other cities in Northern Avondor until they stopped coming through. I'd like for you to enlighten us. What have you learnt about the Cursed?"

Silvestras Valskis' thick eyebrows furrowed together. "I'm not pleased to say this, My Lord, but not as much as I would have liked. You're aware that they're mindless killers with an insatiable hunger for flesh. What makes them even more dangerous is their method of reproduction, as they appear capable of spreading their curse's effects to others through biting. But the other accounts of them are confusing. Some say they move just like humans, while others maintain they possess the same speed, but are prone to clumsiness. That's most of what I've been able to piece together from the writings."

"Anything about the Cursed's intelligence?"

"I'd say any creature as ruthless as the Cursed isn't well-endowed in matters of the brain, but I don't feel confident claiming intelligence is absent completely."

Fantastic, Audren thought to himself. If they bring a battering ram to our gates to enter, we might as well commit mass suicide right now.

"How lovely," Dyna commented drily. "Relinde spoke of a herd. I don't know how many Cursed that's supposed to contain, but given her panic, it might be more than we're capable of killing with only half of our armed forces left. It sounds like we'll need to gather as much food and drink as we can and fortify the city walls. And then we pray to the Mountain Goddess and hope we last as long as possible before they breach the gate."

Audren frowned. "Fortifications and prayers to Ana would be helpful, yes, but it's hardly a viable solution to the problem at hand. We'd merely be postponing our own execution. There has to be a better way to increase our chances of survival. There has to be more we can do."

How could he explain to his people their only hope was stone and prayers? How could he when they looked to him for protection? To him, their new and inexperienced lord, trying to navigate them through this crisis? A month of ruling, a month, and he'd already be letting down those who counted on him to do everything in his power to keep them safe.

"With all due respect, my lord," Ambassador Valskis replied, "that might not be the case here. There are two main courses of action in conflict: Fight and flight. Your sister is right when she says our army will likely be incapable of fighting off a herd, especially when our fallen join enemy ranks. That leaves us with only flight. Where could we go?"

"Nowhere," Dyna interjected before Audren could open his mouth to reply. "We can't get to Southern Avondor without moving through Cursed-infested land, and we're not actually sure if the counties and duchies there are safe. If we can't go there, we'd have to go to the other side of the mountain chain and cross the border to Karanthion. Do you see how that could be problematic, Audren?"

Ugh. Karanthians could never keep things uncomplicated, could they?

"The civil war there," Audren stated, wanting to prove that he had, in fact, done his homework. His sister had a point; the Cursed made Avondor unsafe, but Karanthion could hardly be considered safer. "If only half of the atrocities I've heard took place there were actually committed, that isn't a conflict we want to get tangled up in."

The Ambassador nodded in approval, scratching his neatly-trimmed beard. "Exactly. If you look at it that way, postponing our execution might be our only option, our middle ground between fight and flight. It will at least buy us more time-"

"Or," a voice cut in sharply, "we could break the curse."

Audren, Dyna and Ambassador Valskis looked over to the fourth person in the room at once, surprised. Augustus Ramagi, leader of the local Union of Merchants, had not bothered to speak since entering the room. As he'd been sitting at the back of the table, Audren had almost forgotten he'd invited the man to their small meeting. The merchant did, however, seem to be having a good time: he'd been the only one to take advantage of the pitcher of ale Audren had placed on the table for his guests.

"I'd hate to be rude, Mr. Ramagi, but you're on your… Third tankard of ale?" Dyna narrowed her eyes at him, sceptical, half-mocking.

"I said what I said," Ramagi retorted, shrugging. "If someone can make a curse, someone can break it. And you'd do well not to judge me for drinking, young lady. Death is coming, and I won't leave this world sober."

He meant that; Audren could see it. Ramagi's words were slightly slurred, his face red and hot from the alcohol, and his brown hair, usually slicked back, now stuck out in every direction. The merchant had likely heard the news this morning and decided putting effort into his appearance wasn't worth it.

Audren winced and bit back a pained noise when Dyna kicked him under the table. "Dearest brother of mine, what possessed you to make you think inviting him was a good idea?" she hissed in an annoyed whisper. If Ramagi heard her at all, he didn't bother to react.

The young lord cleared his throat. "Augustus," he began, trying his best to sound encouraging, "you're here because I believe you, too, might have useful information for us. As travelling merchant and leader of the local Union, you have connections all over Avondor and beyond. Besides, if there's one thing I know about merchants, it's that you're always looking for good deals. And to get those deals, you stick your nose in business that isn't yours."

Augustus Ramagi, a man with a good sense of humour, laughed loudly. Audren hoped it wouldn't result in the ale he'd downed bubbling up and spilling out. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the mess that would make.

"Ah, fine," Ramagi slurred. "I'll impart my wisdom to you, I promise. Once my brain feels less fuzzy."

"Harbour gossip," Ambassador Valskis muttered under his breath. "Nothing but useless gossip heard in taverns and whorehouses by the docks."

"We don't have that kind of time, Augustus," Audren pleaded, regretting his decision to supply ale. "Please."

The merchant glared at the ambassador. "Even harbour gossip can hold grains of truth in it," he said slowly. Audren had to strain to understand him. "I was in the Free City at the start of it all, when the Cursed hadn't made it out of Santonshire yet. Nobody talked about anything 'cept the monsters. Every madman had his own theory. I'll spare you the drivel, but I can tell you about the most salient things I've heard."

Yes, Augustus, now we're getting somewhere.

"Please, do tell."

"I heard," Augustus Ramagi said with a smirk, "that a mage cursed Santon. That's where it started. The mage cursed a group of people in the city and they spread the curse to others, so the magical bastard didn't have to do anything else. And get this: They said the Countess of Santonshire survived and fled Santon, though nobody had a clue where she could've gone into hiding. If it's true, that is."

Dyna crossed her arms. "I don't understand how rumours about a runaway countess will help us survive an assault against Anahill."

"Because, young lady, there was a powerful mage who'd served as advisor to the countess' noble house for decades. Gods, I don't remember his name, but it might as well be the same damn mage who cursed the place. If that's true, the countess might know why this curse was put on Santon, do you understand?"

"I knew a curse-breaker once," Audren murmured, more to himself than the others. Slowly, an idea began to take shape in his head. "A good friend to frequent taverns with. He said the first step to finding out how to break a curse is understanding why it was cast."

He felt the ambassador's eyes burn into his skin, hotter than the fire still crackling in the hearth. "My lord, if you're thinking about breaking this curse, you cannot be serious. All we have to go on are rumours."

Audren stood up. "Ambassador, I can't tell my people we must sit and wait for death when there's a sliver of hope we could actually survive this ordeal. I need to do something, and this could be that something. We'll still raise our defenses, but I could go out there and try to find the countess. Try to save our home."

"Audren, you don't even know where to start searching," Dyna sputtered, clearly displeased by this development. "Leaving Anahill now would be suicide."

"Maybe it is, but if I don't, I'll end up dead, too, and so will many more with me. Why not, Dyna? You could take care of matters here, prepare Anahill for the arrival of the Cursed. You can do everything I can, maybe even better. You know it's only age that left me in charge instead of you. In terms of skill, we're equals."

A little flattery couldn't hurt, especially not if it was true. Audren simply needed his sister to understand he was adamant and would stubbornly refuse to stay and wait. Not when this chance lay in front of him, this small chance to rid Avondor and his home of its newfound plague. He'd fight for his right to exist within this crumbling world, prove his worth to his people. He'd save everyone or die trying.

"Ambassador." Dyna looked to Silvestras Valskis for help. "Please tell my brother he's officially lost his mind. He won't listen when I say it, for I've said it too often."

But the ambassador shook his head. "If Lord Audren claims this is what he wishes to do, I have no power to stop him. This is between you two."

Dyna didn't give up yet. "You say you want to break the curse, but you know nothing about curses, let alone how to break one. Just admit you're desperately grasping at straws to try and cope with everything that has happened in the past two months. Nobody will blame you if you choose to stay."

Audren shook his head, even if there was a grain of truth in his sister's words. His tentative idea had already taken root. Pulling it out now would hurt far too much.

"If I go, I'm not going alone. Don't forget we have a talented student mage in Anahill, one you know very well. If I can convince her to come with me, we might actually stand a chance."

Dyna's face scrunched up in disbelief at the mention of her childhood best friend. "You want to ask Terry to go with you?"

At the back of the table, Augustus Ramagi laughed his drowned-in-alcohol laugh. "Good luck with that, my lord," he slurred, entertained to the core. "You'll be in dire need of luck. In dire, dire need."