CurseBreaker: An East O' The Sun and West O' The Moon Retelling by Taylor Fenner

Author:Taylor Fenner [Fenner, Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Taylor C. Fenner Publishing
Published: 2018-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I wake up the next morning and both Dyre and the palace, along with everything else, are gone. I find myself on a little green patch in the middle of a thick gloomy forest. The only sunlight visible is a thin ray shining down on me through an opening in the tree cover overhead. My nightgown from the palace is gone, replaced by the same patchwork dress I arrived at the palace in. At my side lays the pack full of my belongings from home. Admittedly with all of the clothing provided to me at the palace I haven’t set eyes on anything in this pack in months.

I draw my legs up to my chest and lay my face against my knees as angry tears threaten to break free. You really screwed this up, didn’t you Hel? I chastise myself.

If I hadn’t been so damn curious that I followed Mother’s advice I would never have screwed things up with Dyre. Now that everything is out in the open I can see that Dyre was always there, watching in the wings waiting for me to love him. I was so blind for not seeing it sooner.

How am I going to find a way to a place nobody knows the location of? I wonder hopelessly as I drop my pack into my lap. A few tears manage to escape and tumble down my cheeks as something inside my pack makes a clinking sound like glass. Frowning in confusion, I open my sack and rifle through the few items of clothing and books I brought with me to the palace. At the very bottom of the bag is a package haphazardly wrapped in cloth.

I pull the package out and carefully unwrap it. On the top is a note written in the same hurried script as the book of maps I found in the library was written in.

Hel,

You can borrow my studio anytime. In the meantime, keep this safe for me.

Love, Dyre

Beneath the note is a small blown glass heart tinted pink and red. I hold it gently in my palms, instantly recognizing the artistry of the piece. I’d recognize this piece and every other piece made by the artist anywhere as if each piece holds a piece of his signature. The glass blowing studio belonged to Dyre. He created the chandelier I fell in love with the first day I stumbled into the studio. Just like the book of maps I found in the library belonged to Dyre as well. Wow, Dyre really was meant for me after all.

The discovery of the glass heart in my sack calms me and stirs a new wave of determination in me. I can and will find Dyre. This isn’t over yet. I’ll free him from his curse if it’s the last thing I do.

I dust myself off and straighten to my full height, weaving my way through the dark forest. Bent, gnarled tree limbs stick out everywhere I turn, threatening to grab hold of me

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