Page 1 of The Moonborn's Curse

Chapter 1

Seren

The night air was thick with the scent of burning herbs, the moon casting silver pools of light over the worn stone path. A small girl, no more than seven, clutched her mother's hand as they approached the priestess's hut. Unlike the rest of her tribe, even her own mother, she was born with eyes the colour of storm clouds. They shifted with her moods—soft as dove's feathers in peace, dark as the rolling tempest in anger. Tonight, they gleamed like full moons, wide with both curiosity and fear.

Her mother's grip was firm but reassuring. "Come, child, let's have your stars read. Do not be afraid."

The priestess was a gnarled crone, her face carved with time, her dark hair stained with plant dye, a ritual of age-old wisdom. She was beloved by all, trusted to read the shells beneath the full moon's gaze. It was tradition—on the first full moon after their seventh birthday, each child's fate was revealed. To do it before would mean a lack of clarity. To do it too late would allow fate's tide to shift unguarded.

The girl stepped forward, her mother's hands resting protectively on her shoulders as the priestess knelt before the woven mat. Cowrie shells, smooth and ancient, lay before them. With a whisper to the gods, the crone took the girl's small hands and placed them over the shells, guiding them before she cast them into the light of the moon.

For long moments, the priestess observed, her withered fingers tracing unseen patterns in the arrangement. "Your lifeline is strong," she murmured, her voice like the rustling of leaves. "You will be wealthy beyond measure."

A sigh of relief left the mother's lips, but then—

The priestess stilled.

Her faded eyes, once murky with age, turned an unsettling white. A shudder ran through the girl as the old woman's gaze bore into her, no longer just reading the shells, but peering into something beyond them.

The silence stretched too long. The girl's small chest rose and fell rapidly. Her fingers curled into fists.

Then, the crone spoke again.

"You will have five elements."

Gasps rustled among the night air, but the girl barely heard them. No one had ever been blessed—or cursed—with five. Earth, water, fire, air—these were known, their manifestations small, mostly parlour tricks, whispers of an ancestral past. But five?

"The fifth is the most powerful," the priestess continued, her voice growing heavy with mystery. "It is not bound to earth or sky, not water nor fire—it is something beyond. A voice that can shake mountains and summon the unseen. It will be feared, even by those who love you."

The girl felt her mother's hands tighten on her shoulders.

"A boy will come for you. His eyes would be like the sea, wild and untamed, shifting like the waves beneath the moon. There is something more to him, something that walks between worlds, neither fully man nor beast."

The mother let out a strangled breath and pulled the girl up, clutching her close to her chest. The priestess's expression darkened as she turned to the mother, her voice heavy with warning.

"This will take long to manifest," she whispered, as if afraid of the very air carrying her words. "Tell no one of what has been read here tonight. If you value her life, let this be a secret between us."

The mother, pale beneath her deep brown skin, nodded sharply. Without another word, she turned and dragged her daughter away from the hut, back down the stone path and into the night's embrace.

The girl did not dare ask what it all meant, but she could still feel the weight of the priestess's words hanging over her like a shroud.

Tell no one. No one.

Her mother's fingers dug into her arm, too tight, bruises already forming on her tawny skin. "Tell no one, Seren, promise me."

"I... I promise, mamma," she whispered back.

And yet, as they disappeared into the shadows of the village, she could not shake the feeling that the gods had marked her for something far different—and far more terrifying—than she could ever understand.

Chapter 2

Seren

A year had passed. The girl had grown a little, as was the way with those whose fates had been revealed. Her dark hair was now plaited like the maidens of her people. Her mother had begun teaching her the art of cooking over the fire, and in her free time, the crone occupied her with stories of the gods, teaching her potions and spells as well. Yet among her peers, she remained apart. She was often distracted and happy in the company of the crone, who filled her days with the magical ways. Though all the other children, except two, rebuffed her, Seren hardly noticed, content in the world of ancient knowledge. And she had her brother, Aaren, who stood by her, protective and unwavering in his support. The other children looked down on her—because of her eyes because she had not yet shown any gifts. None knew the truth, for she had kept her small self-discoveries to herself, as the crone had demanded.

One evening, Seren sat beside her mother, watching the flames dance. "Amma, can I have a mobile like everyone else?"

Her mother frowned. "Those things will lead you awry, child."

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