We listen to "Only The Good Die Young" and we laugh about it's statement.

We walked in the same direction, but we both got lost in your angst and my impatience.

Did you find what you were looking for? Some escape from your skin?

You know that place you were dreaming of? Where all light comes in?

I hope you know I grew my hair out long. And your sister's just fine.

 He had been raised to respect others, no matter what their life had been. It was his late mother’s decree to welcome anyone on his expeditions of ancient artifacts that, of course, would be sold at auction. The buyer would take their new fancy mirror or chest, or even an old book that no one could read.

A life he grew up in that promised wealth, as long as no secrets got out. Asking his mother when he was 16 led to no answers, she only told him that everything would be revealed when he was of age. Mother’s temper was not to be trifled with, so the burning questions of the secrets she held was never repeated.

Then tragedy had struck, his mother burned at the stake by some villagers, accusing her of being a witch. Magic didn’t exist, and he swore to cut them down one by one, to avenge Mother’s gentle soul. They would feel what she felt, the burning and searing of one’s flesh as they couldn’t do anything with their hands and feet tied to a post. He almost did, until a letter had been found on the door to his mother’s study, a room he had no intention of entering again.

Mother’s graceful curving penmanship of his name on the front, he carefully unfolded the latter, breaking the wax seal. The wording, a familiar bore. Latin.

He could renunciate the language well, almost second nature, but for some odd reason he always had issue writing it. Mother had been adamant about learning Latin, no matter the use of the old scripture. Slowly, and carefully, so no to misunderstand what she wrote.

My son, it pains me to say that my relationship with the town folk has gone astray. They no longer trust my medicinal expertise, as the new age of scientific medicine has grown more secure. The men even questioned my faith to the church! Such so much doubt against the old ways that have kept us all alive and safe. I feel there is an attack heading my way. I fear we may be run out of town, but as long as my last flesh and blood stays alive, then I will risk my own as a trade.

Do not blame the people. It is human nature to question when one finds a better technique compared to another that has been taught for centuries. Beyond my door is the age of potions and herbs, please remember what I’ve taught you. Everything you need is there. Remember to always listen to what the people don’t say. That will help guide your instincts on what is best.

Love, Christina White, your mother

Within that room, different symbols covered the walls, and in cases like that of a prized stand are artifacts that the towns folk believed to be cursed. Mother had taken them, to protect them. He had no belief of curses. Just coincidence.

All of that had been a decade prior, and he wished he taken his mother’s teachings more seriously. Especially in consideration of a group of men that he’d been warned about. They always bid the highest on the older books. He watches another boosted bid over an old Norse tome.

Out of curiosity, he’d follow up on the buyers, that way if a particular set of artifacts are found, and is in their interest, he can invite them. This group of gentlemen, bout these old books to study and decode them in their own private library. Also stating, that understanding what is written would help humanities survival. Despite that, they still had him on edge, something just wasn’t right.

At the end of the auction, a large diamond had been revealed, truly it seemed more like a sapphire but what could he say? He’s no expert.

The bid did not go as expected. Instead of multiple bids, only a few. Instead of high bids, no one started bidding until the price was dropped.

he guesses that there’s always something to be desired; much like himself, he’s not too interested in jewels. The auctioneer only glances at him in askance of what to do. He nods indicating to start with a blank slate, and even then, there had been a few hands. Eventually, it was sold to a little lady. The youngest daughter of his mother’s dearest friend.

The auction concluded, which was held in his own yard, for it was the only place big enough withing the growing town. As he greeted with the buyers to accept their money, he heard whispers of the older folk, that death with befall the daughter. The younger folk rolled their eyes at the old wive’s tale of the cursed legend of deaths surrounding the blue diamond to people’s greed.

A week had gone by, and the girl still lives, making a cranky granny swear up a storm to keep their daughter safe. She was brushed aside. As late of a morning as it was, a strange ship had appeared in the bay, the captain asking for work. hearing the captain’s words, he greeted the man, he had his own crew setting sail in the morning for a northern island that is rumored of hiding a treasure cave.

The captain did not believe him at first, until he caught sight of the blue diamond, and head the make-believe story of the little girls. her father, casually thanking him for finding the gem. The blue gem now surrounded by white diamonds lay in a gold pendant, hanging around the little girl’s neck. The captain, realizing the genuine offer, accepted and left to tell his crew of the good news.

A sudden banging on his front door, had the gentleman stumbling to find his old friend shaking in the pouring rain. Raising his hand to welcome the father of the little girl inside, instead the pendant landed on his palm. His friend yelling about the truth of the curse.

Now, the sun had risen, nobody could describe what had happened to the young girl, so full of life, now dead. The rumors spread and the older folk began their prayers of peace for the little girl. the expedition left and months later, only half the crew of both ships had returned, both blaming the curse of the pendant which he’d had given to his captain. They all refused to touch where it lay, he had to climb aboard to get it back.

Three other owners had accepted it as a gift, and each one returned to his possession. A fourth gifted it to their wife to become a family heirloom. After a month in had it yet to return, he’d been happy it gained a home. Returning to the next plan for the month and organizing the artifacts gained for auction.

Suddenly startled at the sound of glass breaking, he stared into the gas lamp before deciding to check for the disturbance. In his foyer, he’d found a broken window and, on the ground, laid a brown package. Setting the lamp down, he began to unwrap only to once again find the pendant. Picking it up carefully, the chain dangling over his hands as he looked over the coloring, a spot calls to him, a discoloring of the gem.

Grabbing the lamp, he hurries over to his desk and sits with a sigh. The mystery of the pendant ever growing as he tried to find the spot just moments before, and then his vision bleeds, blood splatter coats the pendant. Dropping it in surprise, he leans back, rubbing his eyes to clear what he thinks he just saw. Looking back at it again, blood no longer covering it.

He goes to bed, believing he’d tired and not the work of a curse.

One month goes by, two months, three and four. He still lives and decides for the safety of others he’ll keep it safe in his study.

There had been a riot in town, the kind demanding more payment to live in his territory, and the people begged him to give the kind the cursed diamond. He refused, not wanting anyone else to die. They called him selfish, they called for witchcraft, sighting the death of his mother as proof of his heritage.

He gave away all of his other possession to appease both the town and ultimately the king. He moved into a smaller home, the cursed diamond remaining with him.

Soon, the new town had heard of who he was and what he had and within a fortnight a citizen had broken into his home, killing him in his sleep. Silent screams dying with is soul as he pleads with his dying breath to not touch the diamond.

His vision blurs, his balance off as he struggles to a mirror, but something tugs on him. A tension with that forces him to follow it. The pendant, in his murderer’s hands, seems to glow with white tendrils leaking out of the blue gem, he focuses on that, the only thing familiar in his confusion.

Then he’d awake next to the diamond, in a luxurious castle, in a bustling town compared to the rolling hills he left. The king reaches for it, and he tried to stop him, but his hand only goes through the king’s wrist.

Years roll by, and as he continues to stop people from taking one a curse, he grows stronger, making his form appear to those of the castle. They began to call him ‘The Gentleman of the Cursed Pendant’, as he had not been able to stop everyone from touching it.

Time slowed to a standstill, technology increased, lights shined in bathrooms and studies, an era where everyone could afford the more prestigious inventions. Carriages turned horseless and moved with a different power.

He still prevented others from touching the cursed diamond.

The inhabitants passed down his story, often changing it from the truth, until one fateful day when a group of three gentlemen of London sheltered from a raging storm. The castle that once housed a king, now a place of rest, the pendant hung on the wall in a picture frame. One of them reached for it, which he was prepared to intervene when the maid of the inn halted them, telling his story. The three took it seriously.

That night as the storm rolls through, the diamond has been taken and placed in a large library, weapons lined the walls.

The most profound thing was the men talking about him. How he came from a long line of witches that normally worked as medicine women, nurses, or maids. The ladies of the family knew who had the gifts and the last of the line was a boy weak with power, but also with just enough where curses didn’t affect him. He wanted to fight back from the accusations that got his mother killed, but for some reason, he couldn’t. So, he stayed, patient and waiting.

The group seemed to know what they were doing, as they never touched the gem directly. The circle, in salt, surrounded him on a wooden floor began to burn, a fire rising around him. How own figure actively disappearing in a rush of heat. he witnessed his own hand reaching for the diamond, as that too burned away, followed by a black abyss.

An eternity, as he thought, and remember his life and both of his deaths, and the damned cursed pendant that he could feel the chained wrapped around his hand. The capability of imagining it being pulled out of his pocked like that of a watch and seeing all the death that the pendant had caused.

                    two hours of sparring and tabitha’s exhausted, and it’s been made                     rather clear to all that she has zero talent with any weapon. she sits                     by herself now, eyes trained on the demigods that practice on the                     lawn, her own hands winding around each other as digits trace the                     blisters that form on soft skin.