The Curse of the Verse

by RangerBeef

Studies of Alchemy

When I awoke this time, I could hear the warlock's words clearly in my mind. I began to cough as I sat up mumbling the rhyme to myself.

When my mother heard my coughing she came to check on me and I told her about my dream through my coughs. I told her of the wizard and what he had said. Her eyes had widened at the mention of the warlock and she told me to repeat exactly what he had said.

When I finally stopped coughing again, I took a deep breath and spoke the rhyme to my mother. As I finished, I felt my health begin to return. I could breathe easier than moments before and my lungs no longer burned. But when I told my mother how much better the rhyme had made me feel the coughing returned.

It was then she told me to remain quiet while she went to fetch the local shaman. He didn't have the most powerful of magic but his knowledge of all magic was unmatched.

And so I sat on my bed, trying to think of why the rhyme had made me feel better. I thought about the words of the curse for the first time and found myself wondering if the rhymes were what had helped.

I spoke the curse aloud once more and felt myself beginning to breathe easier. I said it again and felt like my normal self. Thinking I had it worked out, I spoke normally and began coughing once more. Then I spoke a rhyme that was not the curse and felt my lungs again fill with air.

So that was the trick. Rhyme with every sentence and feel like a million bits, or talk normally and, perhaps, die in a coughing fit. I felt like this curse would not be so hard to beat. Surely the shaman would know of a way to reverse it and I would be back to normal in no time.

I sat on my bed thinking of rhymes to words until my mother returned with the shaman.

The first words the shaman spoke to me were, “Do not speak unless you have a sentence to rhyme it with.” I nodded, having just figured that out.

“The curse you are under is a rhyming curse. Each sentence you speak that does not carry a rhyme will begin to constrict your lungs. Which is why, when you spoke to your mother without rhyme, you began to cough. That was the spell constricting upon your lungs and forcing the air from them, little by little. Nod if you understand.”

Rather than nod I spoke, “I understand your words just fine, but is there a cure in line?” It was not a perfectly timed rhyme but the curse did not specify that all of the rhymes had to sound good, simply that they were spoken.

I will never forget the silence that followed my question. I looked to that shaman with such hope. That he would know of some cure, no matter how ill tasting the potion, he would have the cure. I remember feeling my hope slip away as he remained silent, looking evenly at me. I remember my mother’s face becoming more and more distraught.

“I’m afraid I have never found a cure for this particular curse. The warlock in those woods is one that few ever dare to venture to find. His powers are greater than any we’ve ever encountered and his heart is as black as coal. He does not care for anyone. The curse he placed on you was actually an act of mercy. Most never see the village again after encountering him.”

My heart was crushed. If the wisest of ponies in my village had no cure, what hope was there? Would I simply be forced to rhyme all my life or would I be forced to remain silent in the absence of suitable rhymes? The mix of emotions made my head swirl.

I was filled with anger, a rage, aimed at the warlock for his twisted sense of mercy. I felt as if I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, that my life would be worthless now. I was angry at myself. It was my own curiosity and adventuring that had gotten me into this. I wanted to lash out, to break something. But I simply sat there on my bed, staring at the ground, listening to my mother cry.

I felt hopelessness. No other feeling can compare to how utterly awful that feeling it. And so I asked them to please leave my room, with a cough.

For two days, I neither slept nor ate nor drank. I wanted to die. I simply lay in my bed, curled into as small of a ball as I could manage, wishing myself away. Wishing myself to be dead. Wishing to be cured of this curse. But my wishes did not come true. But on the morning of the third day, I was struck with an epiphany.

All curses, all of them, were given a way to be repealed. This was done so that an alchemist’s actions could fight a magician’s words. And this is true of all curses. Any curse you may be able to cast with that magical horn of yours, can be washed away by one of my home remedies.

Many ponies know of great wizards like Star Swirl the Bearded, but few know there are alchemists of equal power to combat any spell they may cast. Celestia herself even asks me to work on alchemical remedies to new spells she learns.

And, as a child, I knew only that every spell I knew of had a counter to it in the form of an ill tasting potion. The morning of that third day, that thought consumed me and I could not let go of it. Every spell had a potion to counteract it, except the curse placed upon me? My mind could not accept that.

So, I sought to learn. I went to our local library. I asked the librarian, with another cough, for a book on potions and remedies for spells. When she produced it, I sat in the library until almost their closing time, just reading.

From the single book, I learned a great deal. I learned that not everyone can be an alchemist. It’s takes a special mind and a measure of patience. I learned that even seasoned alchemists can mess up any potion with just a tiny slip. I learned what I told you, that all spells have an alchemical counter. All of them.

Once more, I began to hope. Hope that someone might know of a cure to this terrible curse. Hope that I might be able to find them and live a normal life. And as powerful of an emotion as hopelessness is, being filled with hope, even the smallest glimmer, is the best feeling in the world.

-----

“So that started you on a study in alchemy? But I thought you said the shaman in your town didn’t know of anyone that could fix this curse.” Shadow said.

Zecora smiled. “Indeed he didn’t. But that shaman had never ventured far from our village. He was wise from books, not from experience. He had never read of a cure for the curse. By the laws of magic, a cure must exist for any spell cast. This one, however, is a well-guarded cure for a well-guarded curse.”

“So where did you go to find it?”

“A great many places, my friend. The first of which was to a forest outside of Zebria.”

“How far was that from your village?”

“Nearly 100 kilometers.”

“That’s not so bad.”

Zecora shook her head. “Perhaps not for an adult, but I did not want to wait until I was an adult.”

Shadow’s jaw dropped slightly. “So you went as a filly? When did you leave?”

“Within a week.”

Comments

[Apple Jaskymilton]

I'm really eager to read more and it's been a while. When will you update?

[RangerBeef]

2400427 Whenever I can find time to sit down and actually write it. I kinda backed myself into a corner and feel like the rest of the story could go rather fast so I'm trying to come up with new things that she can wander into. I sorta jumped into this one with no real planning, which was a bit of a mistake but I loved the idea and wanted to see what others thought, and now I'm just stuck. Hopefully in another week or two I can have something up. I'll start typing more on my iphone in my free time.

Thanks for commenting actually, I'd somewhat forgotten about this,

[Apple Jaskymilton]

2404271I sometimes write with my iphone too! Often at nights before starting to sleep. I think I'm having kind of the same issue with MY story. I also try to wait the right moment to start writing but it's not inspiring since I have more dislikes than likes... comments and feedback always seems to give the kicks

But I've realized that sometimes you just need to force yourself to get started, and if the result doesn't please you can edit it until it does. Sometimes it helps! The most important (and hardest) thing to do is getting started.