Protected: THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 61 – 70
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 61 – 70
Beyond the palace walls, the Island itself fractured into two currents of belief.
There were those who remembered the stories of the child’s healing power, of the hope Jeun represented if he ever fulfilled his destiny. They pored over every hollow, climbed every crag, and whispered prayers as they searched.
Old women drew wards of protection in the dirt. Hunters beat drums to guide the child’s spirit home.
Small bands gathered torches and dogs, moving steadily through the bracken, calling his name into the darkness.
“I know he’s out there,” one young villager told her companions by the river’s edge, voice trembling. “The stars themselves guided me to this path. I’ll not rest until I see his eyes again.”
But others—broken by decades of tyranny—had let hope die. They pressed no further than their doorsteps.
They whispered that magic had taken him, or that he had drowned in the rocky shallows.
If Jeun was truly a sign of salvation, they were content to let him remain lost, for they no longer believed in miracles.
They stayed behind closed doors, shuttered their windows, and offered quiet prayers for their own safety.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 61 – 70
Days passed. The patrols returned empty-handed, mud-caked and exhausted. Sailors disembarked with nothing but rumors—‘a child on the cliff at dawn,’ ‘a golden-haired silhouette in the northern marshes,’ ‘only a stone statue in the moonlight.’ Each whisper ignited fresh hopes, but always proved false.
Audrey’s tears slowed as the days wore on; the ache in her heart hardened into a dull, constant ache.
She wandered the palace halls like a ghost, clutching her token, speaking Jeun’s name to empty corridors.
Even Surganah’s fury seemed to dull in the face of silence.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 61 – 70
On the seventh day—dusk settling like a cloak across the sky—a lone rider emerged from the western forest, cantering along the road that wound toward the fortress.
The flickering torches of the outer guard hailed him, and the rider reined in his steed before the gates. He was cloaked in traveler’s leathers, face hidden beneath a hood—but in his arms lay a familiar bundle.
Guards rushed forward. “Who are you? What have you brought?”
The rider lowered his hood and dropped to one knee. In a gentle motion, he lifted a small, sleeping figure into the torchlight.
It was Jeun.
His face, pale but peaceful, was unmarred by dirt or fear. His tiny chest rose and fell in quiet sleep. A soft glow seemed to emanate from him—barely noticeable, yet unmistakable.
Behind them, the fortress doors banged open, and Audrey appeared on the steps, breath catching in a sob.
Surganah’s rage froze into stunned silence, the reward he had promised suddenly meaningless in the face of the impossible.
Jeun stirred, eyelids fluttering open. His small voice, barely more than a whisper, reached them all:
“Mother… Father… I’m home.”
And in that moment, the Island held its breath once more—caught between the miracle of return and the promise of the prophecy still unfolding.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 61 – 70
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READ ALSO : YOU ARE MY POSSESSION : CHAPTER 1 – 10
TO BE CONTINUED
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