F is for Fidessa

A curse is a reaction to just how ungrateful, unappreciative, and inconsiderate you are. You create your own curse. I, Fidessa, simply give it a voice, a force, a power. I give your curse the strength to chase and catch you, not allowing you to escape the consequences of what you’ve created.

No one understands the poetic justice of this, the perfection. Not even my beloved beauty, my Amberwyne. The one I’d hoped would understand, that I could share my secrets with. She betrayed me, left me for a muscle-bound sculptor. Now she wanders about, trying to undo my curses.

I can only hope one day she’ll understand, the way she’s come to understand the truth of our world.

Not that I expect our creators to understand the truth. Idle wenches, playing with our world and life as if they were toys, making a game out of it. The tart whom created me dismisses me as a mere villain in that game, a non-player character to oppose Amberwyne and the others.

Beatrix thinks she can control me with a roll of the dice, that The Players Are the Thing. If that’s what she believes, so be it. Her dice are an instrument of fate. She’s a fool if she thinks she’s immune to them.

This Game Master and her so-called players are going to discover just how cruel the dice can be. We’ll see who ends up controlling who.