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The Cursed Lantern of Mornelune

Updated: 7 days ago

"Touk, admit it, we're lost. We've been going in circles for two hours, and this forest is starting to freak me out," groaned Fémir, his lute swinging against his hip in a rhythm as irregular as his steps.


Touk, clutching a crumpled map, was fuming, her jaw clenched. "Shhh! You're distracting me! We should have taken a right at the last crossroads."


Dumir, trudging behind with the weight of exhaustion, furrowed his brow. "But we did go right at the last crossroads. I remember it well—right after Fémir sang that awful ballad about the snail in love with a goat."


"Oh really? Well, if you know so much better, lead the way!" snapped Touk, rolling up the map and throwing it on the ground.


Fémir looked up at the sky, as if hoping to find some clue about their destination, but aside from a mocking flock of crows, there was nothing reassuring. "I don't know where we are, but I really don't like this forest. There are... weird noises."


Indeed, the forest seemed determined to make their task difficult. Distant murmurs, eerie chuckles from shadows, and the occasional sound of footsteps made them all reconsider their life choices. And as if that wasn’t enough, the night was creeping in, setting the perfect stage for a collective nightmare.


Dumir suddenly sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose with the precision of a bloodhound. "Wait a second, I smell fire! It's coming from the north. Could be chimneys... or campfires... or something burning slowly."


Fémir shrugged. "No choice, let's check it out! If it's a trap, we can always... uh... improvise."


Touk, now in full sulking mode (arms crossed, face scowling), didn’t respond. The mist thickened around them, making each step feel even more unnerving. But in the distance, a sign finally emerged from the fog: "Welcome to Mornelune," accompanied by a crow perched on top, glaring at them like a grumpy bailiff.



"Charming," muttered the dwarf.


The village of Mornelune was anything but welcoming. About fifty houses at most, with an atmosphere as cheerful as a funeral. The air was thick with the smell of rotting pumpkins, which didn’t help the mood.


Fémir grimaced as he noticed the crows staring down at them from the rooftops.

"What’s with these birds? Are they plotting something?"


Suddenly, a small figure stepped out of the shadows—a red-haired boy, looking as brave as a rabbit caught in a carriage’s headlights. "Are you... are you adventurers?" he stammered.


Dumir, puffing out his chest (as much as his stature allowed), responded in the most grandiose tone he could muster. "That's right, kid! The best in the land! We are the cream of the crop, the finest team!"


Fémir, looking more concerned, leaned down toward the boy. "Why do you look so scared? Where are your parents and the other villagers?"


The boy fidgeted nervously before dropping a bombshell. "I'm Billy, and... my parents and the other villagers... well, they're the crows."


Fémir gulped awkwardly. "Uuuh... what?"


Billy hung his head, clearly tired of telling a story he’d probably repeated a thousand times. "The village is cursed. Every year, the villagers are turned into crows, except for one chosen person who has to extinguish the Lantern... This year, it’s me, but... I don't have the guts to do it." He pointed to a faint glow in the distance, atop a hill. If no one extinguishes the lantern by midnight, they’ll stay crows forever."


Fémir, Dumir, and Remington exchanged a blank look.


"Oh... well... that's, uh, surprising?" Fémir mumbled.


Touk, breaking her silence, grabbed her axe and stood up. "Alright, let's help the kid and break this stupid curse! I'm tired of these birds."


Billy, looking "courageous," muttered, "I’ll wait here... yeah, that sounds good."


The group set off, following a barely lit path, and after about fifteen minutes of walking, they were interrupted by a distant thudding sound. Hoofbeats.


Fémir frowned, clearly unsettled. "I have a bad feeling about this..."


Touk raised a hand, signaling everyone to hide in the bushes. "We’ll set up an ambush!"


They hid as best they could, and a minute later, the rider approached. Fémir, Dumir, and Touk paled. The rider had no head. Touk motioned for silence, but right at that moment, Dumir, betrayed by his own stomach, let out a small burp.


The rider stopped dead. Silence. Everyone held their breath. But after what felt like an eternity, the rider moved on.


Fémir, trembling, whispered. "What was that thing?"


Touk smacked Dumir on the head. "Couldn’t you have held that in? Let’s keep moving!"


They finally reached the lantern, which turned out to be a simple, harmless object. A small house stood nearby, with smoke rising from its chimney. "Why would anyone live here, right next to the cursed lantern?" wondered Dumir.


"And why aren’t they crows?" added Touk.


"Maybe it's just the villagers under the curse?" Fémir suggested.


Touk, shrugged and extinguished the lantern with a swift motion.


Our three heroes waited, a bit awkwardly, in front of the now darkened lantern, expecting something fantastic to happen. 


"Well? What now?" Fémir muttered, hands on his hips, as if expecting some divine applause.


Suddenly, a growl echoed—not a mystical or supernatural growl, no, a very human one. A burly man emerged from the house next to the lantern, glaring daggers at the three adventurers.


"And who the hell are you? Why'd you extinguish my lantern, you bunch of troublemakers?" the farmer shouted, his arms as thick as barrels of ale.


Fémir, sheepish, tried to smile innocently. "Uh… well, to break the village curse, of course…?"


The farmer raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Village curse? Oh yeah? Well, I’ll show you the curse of an angry farmer!"


The giant grabbed a large object, its outline ominous and uninviting.


"Time to run!" Touk yelled, turning on her heels.


But when she turned around, Fémir, Dumir, and even Remington were already three meters ahead, sprinting like their lives depended on it.


"Cowards!" Touk growled, picking up speed to catch them.


The descent down the hill was as fast as it was ungraceful, full of slips and tumbles. When they finally reached the village, out of breath and covered in mud, they noticed something strange—the village was lively again. People were walking around, chatting cheerfully. Nothing like the doomsday scene from an hour ago.


"We did it!" the three heroes shouted in unison, their faces glowing with satisfaction.


A nearby elderly lady, intrigued, squinted at them. "Did what, exactly, strangers?" she asked, curious.


Fémir, being the bard he was, took a deep breath and recounted the entire story, embellishments and all. But by the end of his tale, the old lady burst into laughter.


"Oh, you’ve got quite the imagination, dear!" she giggled.


Fémir blushed instantly, visibly flustered by her reaction.


The lady waved over some other villagers and retold the story, which sent them all into fits of laughter. They were almost crying from laughing so hard.


Touk crossed her arms, sulking. "Zero recognition, pfff…" she muttered.


Dumir, a bit confused, watched the scene and sighed. "I get the feeling we’ve been tricked…"


A tall, smiling man approached them, looking friendly. "I’m Piter, the village chief. Now tell me, where did you come up with these tall tales?"


Fémir, still a bit embarrassed, recounted the story once more. By the end, Piter furrowed his brow and turned to a red-haired boy standing nearby.


"Billy! Get over here!" Piter yelled. The boy shrank back. "What did you tell these good folks? Apologize immediately!"


Billy, hands behind his back, glanced sheepishly at Fémir, Touk, and Dumir. "But it was just a joke, Dad…"


Piter shook his head in exasperation. "My son is quite the prankster! That’s why we didn’t take him to the big festival in the plain, ten minutes from here. He was grounded! And it looks like he managed to escape from his room. He loves playing tricks, especially on Fred, the farmer up on the hill, the one whose lantern you extinguished." Piter chuckled. "And there’s no curse, folks! Our region is called Mount of Crows simply because... well, there are lots of crows, that’s all."


Our three heroes exchanged perplexed looks. They had been thoroughly duped.


A few minutes later, they found themselves sitting by a campfire in the village square, pumpkin soup in hand, surrounded by friendly villagers.


But Fémir couldn’t let it go. He leaned toward his companions and whispered,

"But… the headless rider, then? You saw it, right?"


They overheard a nearby woman telling a story. "And as I was returning from Fred’s, bringing him his portion of roast boar, I heard a strange noise in the woods… I didn’t see anything, of course, since I had my tunic pulled over my head to keep warm…"


Fémir's eyes widened. "Uh… Let’s keep that to ourselves, okay?"


Dumir snickered. "Scared by a little old lady with her tunic pulled over her head…"


And so, our three "heroes" ended their day, a bit ashamed, a bit confused, but at least warm by the fire.


Happy Chibuween! 🎃

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