Wura
Wura had to focus.
Do not think. Do not let her mind drift.
In front of her, Ciel moved with the confidence of a predator, her curls whipping through the air with every motion. The wooden staff shot toward Wura, who barely managed to block. The crack echoed sharply in the empty gymnasium.
They met here every recess, a ritual that had grown almost sacred. This was how they had gotten closer. How they had become bound.
Wura spun on her heel, dodged, swept the air with a fluid strike. Her heart pounded to the rhythm of the fight. Ciel was fast but Wura could be faster. Anticipate. Observe. Wait for the opening.
Ciel struck downward. Wura sidestepped, her staff sliding along her opponent's before pushing it aside. Then she attacked, quick, precise strikes. Ciel retreated, trying to regain her stance, but Wura pressed forward relentlessly. Openings were rare, but she found one.
A blink. A fraction of a second when Ciel's wild hair clouded her vision.
BAM.
The blow slammed into her ribs. A dull thud, a sharp gasp. Ciel staggered, her foot slipping on the still-damp floor. She fell.
Wura rushed forward, but her friend instantly raised a hand to stop her.
— Don't come any closer! she shouted.
Wura froze, confused.
— You're overreacting. It's just a fall.
— That's not it.
Ciel pushed herself up slowly, rubbing her arm. Her staff lay forgotten beside her. A thin trail of blood seeped from a scrape, a red gleam against her sand-colored skin.
Cold panic coiled through Wura's gut.
Not that.
Her breath hitched. Her gaze locked on the blood, hypnotized, unable to look away. Her body froze, chilled from the inside.
Not that. Not again.
Something stirred at the edge of her vision. A shadow. Silent, formless. Lurking in the corners of her mind. Her breath roared in her ears as the thing crept closer—shapeless, yet suffocating.
Ciel stepped toward her.
— Wura, breathe.
Her fingers searched the pocket of her khaki skirt and pulled out cotton and bandages. She dabbed the wound, wrapped it swiftly.
— See? It's over.
It was over.
Wura inhaled sharply, like she had surfaced from a nightmare. Her eyes finally tore away from the cut. The shadow inside her recoiled, but not completely. It never truly disappeared.
Ciel cupped her cheeks, warm palms against clammy skin.
— Breathe.
Her scent—sweat mixed with wildflowers—wrapped around Wura. She blinked. Slowly, her muscles began to loosen.
— I always keep cotton with me. I know what to expect with you, Ciel added with a smile.
A sharp sound startled them both.
A boy leaned against the gym window, a mocking grin on his lean face. Dark-skinned, dressed in rags, his eyes gleamed with amusement.
— What now? Did Wura have another one of her hysterical fits? he asked, feigning surprise.
Wura clenched her fists, tension flooding back instantly.
— Shut up, Morio.
— Oh, you're lucky Ciel's here to keep you from drowning in your own madness.
He sighed, then turned to Ciel with a flirtatious smile.
— So, beauty? How are you today?
— How did you even get in? Ciel asked, raising a brow.
— The guard doesn't like me hanging around, but I've got my tricks. And hey, nothing was gonna stop me from seeing my best friend and the love of my life, right?
The girls burst into laughter. Morio joined in. And when they laughed together, nothing else mattered.
It was them against the world.
Ciel—the outsider with tangled roots, who never found her place.
Morio—the street orphan, too clever for his own good.
And Wura—the child with cursed golden eyes. The girl haunted by her own reflection.
The witch.
But together, the three of them had something no one could ever take away.
— Where'd he go? Ciel asked, pulling Wura from her thoughts.
They were sitting on the gym steps, the perfect spot for lunch, away from the noisy cafeteria. Since the start of the year, they'd made a habit of bringing meals from home—a flawless strategy to avoid waiting an hour for food that was barely edible.
— Damn it, Wura muttered. I forgot my lunch. I was late this morning, it completely slipped my mind!
— We can share, Ciel offered, holding out part of her meal.
— No, it's fine! I don't like beans.
— But you haven't eaten all day, Ciel insisted. You sure you're okay?
— Yeah. I'm heading home early this afternoon anyway. I can hold out till then.
Ciel raised a brow but didn't push. She spooned a bit of brown mash into her mouth while Wura sighed, folding her arms across her knees.
That was when Morio reappeared, a stuffed bread roll in his hand.
— I'd offer you some bread, but… Madam Fancy over here doesn't like beans.
Wura rolled her eyes.
— Fancy, really? For your information, beans are a noble food. I just don't like how mushy they get.
— Yeah, sure, I totally believe you.
A mocking smile tugged at his lips as he bit into his sandwich.
— So, you're spending your savings on cafeteria bread rolls now? Wura asked with amusement.
Morio paused, chewing slowly before answering.
— Yeeah, that's right… (he snickered slyly) I'm making good money at the Cooperative, you know. Even if I can't do the max hours yet, since I'm underage.
— That's a good thing, Ciel replied. This way, you still have time to study at the Temple.
— What I want is to make a lot of money fast!
He blushed slightly before adding, avoiding Ciel's eyes:
— That way, I can ask you to marry me as soon as possible…
Ciel cut him off before he could finish:
— Absolutely not.
Wura burst into laughter.
— Wait… are those tears I see? she teased.
Morio, pretending to be offended, leaned toward her and held out his bread, showing the bright red tomato against the pale beans.
— So, Sina? You trembling yet?
He roared with laughter when Wura grimaced.
— I'll admit, that bean mash does smell delicious, she said, laughing too.
— Enough, Morio, Ciel scolded. Eat instead of bothering us.
Morio put on a mock-sad face before taking a huge bite of his sandwich.
— Anyfing for fou, my funfhine.
Ciel let out an exasperated hiss. Wura giggled—then the three of them broke into helpless laughter.
Once calm, Morio declared:
— I heard there's a Cursed Night tonight. Twice in one month… Evil spirits are going wild these days.
Cursed Nights. In Rada culture, those nights were feared as times when malevolent occult entities roamed freely, bringing cruel fates to anyone unlucky enough to cross their path.
— Could you… not talk about that? Wura asked uneasily.
Morio raised a brow.
— Never got why it freaks you out so much. It's so cool!
His eyes sparkled with excitement, but Wura looked away. He didn't know. He couldn't understand.
She knew that a Vodun spirit slept inside her. And that it had caused the greatest tragedy of her life.
— Speak for yourself, she muttered. There's nothing wonderful about it. Those things are beyond our control.
— I'd love to be an occult warrior, Morio shot back, ignoring her grave tone. With amazing powers to fight demons… I'd impress so many girls!
Wura rolled her eyes. His priorities were crystal clear.
— It only works that way in fairy tales, Ciel added.
— What do you two know anyway? Morio sulked.
Suddenly, a shout cut through the air:
— That's him! That rascal who stole from me! Get him, guard!
Wura and Ciel turned their heads toward Morio at the same time. They knew exactly what this was about.
Morio simply looked away, as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He sighed heavily.
— It may be true that I decided to save money instead of paying for such a lousy meal…
He rose slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips.
— Well, my Girls, looks like it's already time for me to say goodbye.
With an affectionate gesture, he ruffled Wura's dreadlocks, tied up in a high knot. She smiled softly. He teased her constantly, but that touch meant everything.
— Wura and I have class too, Ciel concluded. See you next time.
Morio shot them a wink before drawing in a deep breath.
The guard and the cafeteria lady arrived, running. The latter, a short woman in a tied wrapper with a bursting flowing garment, panted noisily.
— Just look at this! she hissed. It's their fault he's here! Birds of a feather flock together!
She smacked her tongue in annoyance, glaring at Wura and Ciel. But Morio was already sprinting away, laughter bubbling on his lips.