Prologue

The king sat on the Skull Throne, his chin resting on the knuckles of his right hand, buried deep in his thoughts. Anyone who priced his head would think a thousand times before interrupting the thoughts of the ruler. Almost unknowingly he stroked the armrest of his throne. It was not some precious metal, gleaming when the light shone upon it. Neither was it any expensive wood, carved to perfection. It was made of bones.

The Skull Throne was made of bones of the enemies his long-forgotten ancestor had slaughtered on his mission to capture the tribes to raise the kingdom. It was rumored to consist of the bones of 300 tribe leaders who had rebelled against the ancestor. The top of the headrest was decorated with nine skulls and hundreds and hundreds of bones crisscrossing each other to form the rest of the body, the Skull Throne was not the most comfortable place to sit on. But what it lacked in comfort, it made up in power.

In the thousand years, since the throne was made and the kingdom established, thousands of fools had rebelled and had been punished in the same way as the first rebels. Decapitated in public, skin, and flesh removed and bones dried in the sun, the skull of every rebel now hangs on the walls of the throne room reminding the ruler of his power and warning the onlookers of such fate.

Now, almost a thousand years and hundreds of kings later the atmosphere of the throne room had changed and all because of the foolishness of the former king. Drunk with power and blinded by wealth, the former king had ravaged many lands. Fed off them and thrown them aside, not bothering to prosper from them. His biggest mistake was attacking the forbidden city of witches. Ignoring his advisors, the ruler had led a siege on the peaceful city only to earn a curse from the high priestess herself. Cursed with never-ending suffering, the king returns to his fort only to pass on the curse to his son and also the last of the barbarian kings.

Paying for his father's mistakes, the ruler had been bound to seek help from none other, but the cause of the kingdom's fall itself. As the doors to the throne room opened, emerged the witch who had claimed to be sorry for her species's action and wanted to repay by lifting the curse. A tall, willowy woman, with the darkest skin and long silver hair, she was the kind of beauty that would make others cower in fear. Fierce, slanting white eyes that shone even in the dark and lips as red as the blood of her sacrifices, she cast an uncomfortable silence wherever she went, silently commanding all eyes to be focused on her.

"Is it done, witch?", spat the king, almost failing to keep up with the angry façade.

"My lord", spoke the witch with a calm, misty voice slowly. "If I would have been in your position right now, I would have at least thought before speaking like that to my only salvation. Otherwise, the consequences will not be that...... favorable. And my name is Naiharia, not witch."

The king then regains control of his anger and speaks, "Is it done Naiharia?"

"Yes, my lord," said the witch while holding a pouch made of animal fur.

"What is it?" asks the king, curiously eying the bundle resting on the witch's palm.

"Inside this, my lord is the only way to lift the curse on your family.", replied the witch in an even tone.

"Open it", ordered the king.

"I cannot. Only the cursed one can touch it. Otherwise, the magic will dissolve eventually and it will take more time to make another one. Time which you do not have anymore.", said Naharia in a slightly amused tone.

The king sat quietly on his throne thinking about his pitiful condition. Any other time, he would have beheaded the women on his own just for speaking to him like that. Now such time had fallen upon him, that he had to take help from a witch.

Reluctantly, he rises from his throne and walks towards the witch. Standing on one last stair, he raises his palm and nods at the witch.

Naiharia places the bundle on the king's hand and steps back with a smirk dancing on her lips.

Upon opening the bundle, the king finds himself staring at the most beautiful coin he had laid his eyes on. Intricate carvings snaked through the surface like a maze, hidden with secrets, waiting to be discovered. Entranced by the beauty of the coin, the king started to trace each tiny detail of the coin. Suddenly, he felt a prick on his index finger and saw there was a tiny drop of blood. When his eyes landed on the coin, he saw that the blood was traveling through every carving on the coin, revealing a strange symbol. When the symbol was complete, all the blood vanished as if it was never there. Then suddenly the king started to feel like he had been awake for years. Just when he was about to close his eyes, his insides started to burn.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?", shouted the king as his pains increased.

The witch smiled and said, "What did you think, human? How foolish could you be? Did you think that after taking away everything from us, a witch will come to help you? Your father raided our precious land. Destroyed every holy monument. Burned down our homes. Forced us to bend the knee. Took away our riches. After all of that, do you expect us to feel sorry for you?"

The king screamed in pain, clutched his stomach, and fell to the ground. His eyes burned like someone had poked hot iron skewers through them. His whole body felt like it had been lit on fire.

"It was my father who did that to you. Not me. Why take your revenge on me?"

The witch crouched down to the king's level. Venom laced in every word, she said," The son pays for his father's mistakes. The daughter takes her mother's revenge. My mother was the high priestess of our main temple. Her last words to me were to take revenge on that barbarian's son and I have fulfilled her last wish."

"I WILL KILL YOU!", shouted the king. "GUARDS!!!"

The witch stood up and looked down at the king's writhing figure. The guards came in only to watch the king on the floor with the witch in front of him. They willed themselves to move forward but were somehow unable to do so. Naiharia took out a small vial from the folds of her gown and held it up with her fingers.

"Do you think I will let myself get captured by them? I have fulfilled my mother's wish. My purpose of living is complete. Now you should be ready to feel how I felt in my childhood."

Naiharia put the vial on her lips and drank the white liquid. Out of nowhere white flames engulfed her as she started to scream in pain. It burned until there was nothing left but gray ashes on the floor.

Realizing that his fate was doomed, the king looked at the coin in despair. He let out a deafening scream and closed his eyes before vanishing into thin air, the wicked glint of the gold coin being the last thing he ever saw.

And from here started the tale of the cursed coin.