Page 95 of Castle of the Cursed
And without explanation, I know who this is—
Brálaga.
“It does me good to see you, my grandchildren.”
Their voice is hard to describe. It is even more otherworldly than Sebastián’s and defies all labels and classifications. It is a voice that belongs to the ocean and the sky.
“Your faces filling this hall brings me great satisfaction. You have made me proud with your efforts in your training, and now I am honored to announce that your graduation approaches.”
Whispers break out, and it’s clear none of the students have heard this word or concept before.
“This castle exists outside of time and space,” says Brálaga, and as I look from Antonela to the others, their confusion seems to only deepen. “You are unfamiliar with these concepts because this castle is all you know, and you have been following the same routines your whole lives. This is your world, and none of you knows what it looks like from the outside. You have never breached its walls.”
I have never seen a more silent or confused audience in my life. Everyone seems dazed, as if they did not know there was such a thing as before or after—just an infinite present.
“I built my home as an interdimensional haven for my descendants,” Brálaga explains. “You have seen how outsiders are constantly trying to break in. When a foot or a fist or a tail punches through the beating walls of our home, we wrestle it back. That is why you, my grandchildren, must train and make yourselves strong. Yet a few of you, the best of you, will be chosen for a different mission. You will join me beyond the castle walls.”
The silence reaches a deeper volume, and the room grows quieter and louder at once. As I study Antonela and the others, I can tell that until now, this castle was everything. Nowhere and nothing else existed.
Now—just like that—everyone feels the pressure and hope of chasing a goal.
This is their first experience of time.
“Those who are chosen will no longer go by grandchild,” says Brálaga. “They shall be given their own name.”
Talking breaks out, and when I look back at the stage, Brálaga is gone.
A classmate with fiery crimson hair and feathery wings that stick out from their cloak leans toward my sister and says, “No way you get chosen.”
“They could get chosen,” says a boulder-like being with one panoramic eyeball. “As the worst Brálaga grandchild of all.”
The two of them snicker. I hate them already, but I can’t deny that my sister’s human body isn’t all that impressive compared to the others here. All she has that looks dangerous is her jagged front tooth. She’s even physically smaller than her classmates, giving off runt-of-the-litter vibes.
Despite all this, Antonela puffs out her chest and says, “My blood is the same as yours.”
Red glowers. “You do not belong here.”
My sister seems to have heard this taunt before because she doesn’t appear hurt. If anything, she looks intrigued.
Almost like after hearing this insult too many times, she started tuning it out. But with Brálaga’s announcement, the words hit different.
Less insulting and more promising. And I can almost read the question on Antonela’s mind—What if I don’t belong here?
In the next scene, my sister is with a couple dozen kids, all of them bigger than her. They’re in a round room with mirrored walls, staring at their reflections.
Her classmates have similar physiologies to humans, but with otherworldly features that Antonela lacks. Beyond the fact that some have wings or scaly skin or horns, everything from their expressions to their movements to the way they speak gives off more savage vibes, like Sebastián.
As they stare into the mirrors, the students’ reflections begin to morph. Red turns their tresses into black vipers, while Cyclops grows a second eyeball on their head. Their physical bodies don’t change, just their reflections.
“Is that your glamour?” asks a tall hooded figure who towers over everyone. They wear a black cloak, but they keep their hood up, veiling their face. I assume they’re the instructor.
I only realize they’re referring to my sister because everyone else is staring at her, too. In the mirror, my sister’s reflection has barely changed.
All she’s managed to do is fix her chipped front tooth. She looks like me.
“I can help,” says Red. With a flick of their hand, a gash slices across my sister’s cheek in her reflection.
Antonela gasps, lifting her palm to her face. When she pulls it away, there’s blood on her fingers. The redhead actually cut her.
