The Curse of the Black Wing

Tyrondil thought he saw something at the corner of his eye - the mists...moved unnaturally... Curled upon each other to form shapes. But when he turned he saw nothing. Well, nothing but normal mist.

That farmer was right. The treasure hunter thought. This place does play tricks on you.

The sound of their footsteps on the cobblestone was the only sound emanating from the haunted village. Until -

"This is the house," Mira, immune to any unease, pointed towards a run-down shack. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Tyrondil shook his head. "Let's go."

The two of them traveled for five days to reach this supposedly haunted village. All for the sake of fighting Captain Jackard's lost treasure. This mist-ridden place was once his home, and many believed he buried his life's work in it.

Many also believe that he cursed it for all time.

"You still talking about that crap?" Mira giggled. "What? The cursed Black Wing will envelop us both? Come on, Tyrondil. Get your wits about you."

Tyrondil was the farthest thing from superstitious. But this village was... different. He wanted to shout to get out. But Mira was determined to find the treasure. And he couldn't leave her to search for it alone. Thus, little choice was left.

He was probably being a child. He needed to assist Mira and get out of here as soon as possible.

"What was this? His girlfriend's place?" Tyrondil asked once they entered the dusty, run-down shack.

"No, that one is down the street. And it has already been checked before. No, this shack is why I was so confident we'd find something." She leaned in, her eyes bulging like a bug's. "This place, Tyrondil, is of Lieutenant Borsh the Third. Forth in command behind the Black Wing himself.

"A little-known fact that I dug up, however. Borsh was Jackard's childhood friend. The Black Wing left that notion unsaid, as Borsh wanted to earn his merit on his own, and not ride the legend's coattails. Respectable, no?"

"That it is..." Tyrondil nodded. "And... this was -"

"Yes!" Mira grabbed his arm. "In all my research nobody talked about this man. Why would Jackard want to hide one of his most influential officers? Except if he wanted him to be overlooked on purpose. You see where I'm getting at?"

"I am..." Maybe there was credence to this expedition after all. "But how did you find out about it?"

Mira gave Tyrondil a knowing smile. "How do you think?"

Tyrondil shook his head. "We talked about this."

"Aye, we talked." She puffed out her chest. "And I said what I said."

"Listen here," Tyrondil grabbed her arm. "When we're out of this horrid place you and me are going our separate ways." Tyrondil could hear the tremble in his voice. "I've had it with your antics."

"Fine!" She ripped her arm free. "All for the better anyway."

The nerve of her saying that nearly made him leave her right then and there. As if she would be here if it wasn't for him. But then a sobering thought calmed him, he wouldn't be here either. Tyrondil sighed. Find the treasure. Then we'll talk. And I'll be rational and understanding. Tyrondil nodded to himself. Let's not get distracted.

Mira, as per usual, was never distracted. "Pssst. Over here." Tyrondil followed the sound of her voice until he found her crouched above some broken boards at the back of a hallway. "You see this?"

When the light of Tyrondil's lantern shone over the boards, he noticed what probably drew Mira's attention - Jackard's markings, two wings crossed over one another.

"How did you see this?" Tyrondil whispered.

"I knew what I was searching for."

A look went between them that screamed conflict, but they let it go. Instead, Tyrondil grabbed the board and yanked it free. Mira grabbed another. Soon, the boards were gone, revealing a rusty trap door underneath.

"After you, brave ser," Mira's smile was wicked. Tyrondil loved that smile.

The trap door led to a storage room long since forgotten. The stone inside was ancient, certainly older than the shack built atop it. At first, the pair thought they had found their mark. But the storeroom was filled with provisions and some antiquated coins, that might be worth something, but weren't the titular treasure they sought.

They scoured the room - good thing too. Underneath a pair of particularly heavy wine kegs was a little wooden box. Mira used her expert lockpicking skills to break the box against the wall until it opened. Inside was a scroll, a very fragile, almost illegible scroll. Almost.

"This is a map..." Mira breathed.

"To where?"

"See!" She pointed enthusiastically. "Three hills towering between two surging rivers. This has to be in Eastwatch up North!"

Mira was right. "Yes..."

"And here!" She pointed again. "This is that village we overlooked when out hunting for the White Fang."

"We have to return there."

"That is. After our talk. Right?" Mira gave Tyrondil her knowing smile and roll the map up in her sleeve.

Tyrondil understood that they couldn't go on like this. Always criticizing each other, always finding problems with each other. Was treasure the only reason why they were together?

Tyrondil didn't think so but at times like these...

They were outside again, the curly mists all around them. "Mira..." Tyrondil stopped, placing his lantern on the cobblestone. "I'm sorry..."

She turned. "I'm sorry too, and I promise to -"

Caw, caw! A crow, perched on a beam, elusive between the mists. Caw, caw!

"Damn bird!" Mira snapped. "We're having a moment here!"

"Black wings, black times." Tyrondil unconsciously quoted the old saying. But then... "Black wings... Mira! Wait!"

Mira turned; screamed. The mists were suddenly up to her waist. "It hurts! Tyrondil! Help me! It huuuuurrrttssss! Aaaaaa -"

Her screams were cut short by a misty hand over her mouth. Tyrondil could only watch in absent horror as a man made out of mist held his love tightly. Soon, Mira started choking, her gagging was the most horrible thing Tyrondil ever heard.

But what could he do against mist? He saw that he was on his knees. When had he dropped? What did it matter? Mira's lifeless body hit the cobblestone, the mists swirling around Tyrondil.

Cold. He thought. When did it get so cold...

He looked at his lantern and the light. It was comforting. The mists soon swallowed said light - as it did him.

As it will everyone.

This was A Picture is worth a Thousand Words contest entry.

The contest image:

Describe what you see: I see a divine lantern. | Describe what you feel: I feel uneasy and a smidge excited.

Obligatory shout-out to the 🍕PIZZA🍕 gang, 🤙 gang. 🤙

I think I could write a whole novel with this story. But a 1kish short story will have to suffice. 😁

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Cover image source.

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