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He remembers it like it was yesterday. At first, he was frozen, frozen in place, and only when Cas's body collapsed did he sober up. He took three quick steps and plunged his sword into the murderess's body, piercing through. Sakarda made no move to avoid the blow. Smiling, she fell to the ground. Acting on impulse, he left the murderess and fell to the body of his beloved. He tried to staunch the flow of blood, but the girl died instantly. He hugged her and sank into a flood of tears. The silence of the forest was broken by laughter, more like a wheeze.

"Unfortunately, warrior," despite the sword in her belly, the witch was still alive. "She is dead, and I assure you, she will not rise again like some. She is certainly dead."

Danathriel's tears subsided, and in their place came a wave of anger. He stood.

"If you think this is my revenge, you're wrong," he approached her as she continued. "I've prepared something better for you..." he drew his sword from her. "...I'm simply cruel..." and plunged it into the witch's chest with all his might.

She arched her back, but survived long enough to finish her sentence and her revenge.

"You will suffer eternal life until you hear Cas's confession, your true love, her assurance of love, break the thread of your curse." She finished speaking, raised her left hand, and blew golden dust into the air. Danathriel, unable to believe such vitality, waited for the performance to end and twisted his sword with the words, "Die at last, witch."

To be sure, he cut off her head this time and packed it in the saddlebags of one of the horses. He noticed that they weren't tired at all, and they couldn't rest yet. The witch must have cast some spell to stop them from tiring.

He burdened the second horse with his beloved's body and set the last one free. So, with the murderess's head and his only love dead, he headed home. Along the way, he came across his own horse grazing in the same spot where he'd been left. The mount set off after its owner. He then encountered the pursuit party and explained the tragedy. Quickly and concisely, for he didn't feel like talking. With a heavy heart, he handed the body over to the girl's father. They buried her the next day. From then on, Danathriel mourned the tragedy, spoke little, couldn't think, and didn't know what to do. To make matters worse, his would-be father-in-law blamed him for his daughter's death. In fact, he felt the same way. Because of him, Sakarda lived and took her revenge. The burden of this realization was overwhelming. He walked around like a numb man, seeing no point in life. Therefore, after a few days, he decided to end his life. Hanging himself was his choice. At night, he went to the stables. He took a thin belt he happened to have at hand, wrapped it around his neck and the beam under the thatch, and jumped. He didn't break his neck on the spot, which might have happened given his muscular build, but strangely, he didn't choke. He felt the belt wrapped around him, but almost without pressure, as if he were wearing a thick, protective leather collar. Deciding that the belt might be too wide, he replaced it with a rope and jumped from a higher distance to break his neck. The rope jerked, but his body held. The feeling of the protective collar returned. He dangled there, five feet above the ground, unsure what to think. He wasn't choking at all. He repeated the action twice, with the same result. He abandoned the hanging, trying to make sense of it all. He couldn't be so tough that he wouldn't hang himself. A thought began to form in his mind, but he couldn't accept it. He decided to try something else. He climbed onto the barn roof and stood on the edge. If he jumps flat, it's impossible not to kill himself. He jumped, spreading his arms. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and crushed him to the ground. For a moment, he lay slightly stunned. He moved his fingers first, then his whole arm. He stood up, feeling his body. No breaks, no pain. The worst curse he knew escaped him. That damn witch had cursed him. Eternal life. A chill ran down his spine. He needed help understanding everything. During the war, he'd met a knowledgeable sorcerer. Fortunately, he knew where he lived. He returned home, packed his bags, and left to find him.

He found the sorcerer where he suspected.

"That's bad news, boy, but your suspicions are correct," the old man said after hearing the story and performing a strange ritual over Danathriel. "That witch has cursed you, anathema, whatever you want to call it. You're cursed, and you can't die."

- Like, I can't. Everyone dies sometime.

"Yes, but you'll have a little problem with that," he finished with a broken laugh. "This is the first time I've seen the effect of such a curse, because no one has ever cast anything like it, but I'm sure of what I'm saying.

" "I'm glad you're having fun, but can you explain everything to me and is there anything I can do about it?

" "Well then..." the old man grew serious, though he continued to watch the Cursed One standing before him with curiosity. "Theoretically, and now in practice, because you've tested it yourself, you can't die. Unless you fulfill the conditions of the curse, then the spell will be broken. There's no other way. A protective aura surrounds you and you won't cause yourself any physical harm, not even cut your finger.

" "And the poison, if it were...

" "No, no, let me finish. You can test it again, but I'm telling you, you won't die. Even the strongest poison won't harm you, at most you'll get diarrhea. You'll always survive. The point is, the curse has caused time to stop for you, as it were." That's why you can forget about old age," the sorcerer surreptitiously picked up a knife from the table. "From now on, you won't age. You can probably also live without air, food, or water. You've been suspended in time, while the entire world moves at its own pace." The old man began to walk around Danathriel.

"So I'm immortal now.

" The sorcerer finished his walk and suddenly swung the knife he was holding. It struck the warrior's throat. The knife, upon contact with the skin, reacted as if it had hit a wall, and its tip bent.

"Stop it," the Cursed One informed.

"I'm sorry," the sorcerer said, putting down the dagger and rubbing his aching wrist. "I couldn't resist." He looked into Danathriel's eyes. "Yes, you are immortal."

"So... if it's possible, why don't other witches and sorcerers become immortal?

" "Because it's not easy at all. If it were, Sakarda would have exploited it long ago." Firstly, it's a group of the most powerful spells, and only the best can cast something like that. This proves that Sakarda was truly powerful, and it's a good thing she's gone for good. Secondly, this curse allows you to escape death, and you can't just get that. For the curse to work, you need another life in return, and not a forced one. The person must willingly and voluntarily give up their own life so that you could be immortal.

"And Sakarda did that?

" "Yes. You say yourself that she practically let herself be killed. She gave her own life, and the curse worked. She probably died happy that you killed her, and since she already had a set death date, she made a good deal. First, she escaped death by extending her own life, and then she traded it for yours. She cheated on naive old death. Those are the rules."

So you see. You're unlikely to find someone who would give their own life so that someone else could become immortal. It happened to you, but in your case, Sakarda bound you to another spell, and for you, immortality will be a curse. That's why you're the first to experience it.

Danathriel was silent for a moment, digesting this news .

"So I can't die," he said, "but it's still a curse, or rather, a spell, and curses can be lifted, broken.

" "Simply put, this one is too powerful. I don't know anyone who could remedy it. Such a curse can only be lifted by the person who cast it, and since Sakarda gave her life for you, the cycle is complete. The perfect revenge. The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that that witch was brilliant." He sighed and sat down on the edge of the table. "That means your only option is to fulfill the conditions of the curse.

" "So?

" "You don't know?"

"Unfortunately, my mind is a bit jumbled at the moment and I can't concentrate."

The old man sighed again and began to explain.

"The curse will break the moment the woman you've only ever loved confesses her true love to you. In your case, it's Casandreia.

" "But..." Danathriel wanted to remind him of Cas's death, but the sorcerer continued.

"I know. This is where the heart of the spell emerges. Every spell must have meaning, and there can be no curse that can't be fulfilled. Your Casandreia has died, but only now. The body dies, but the soul doesn't. The human soul likes to wander. Your beloved will be reborn in the next incarnation. You just have to find her and make her fall in love with you. It's not complicated, really."

The cursed man sat down on a stool by the fireplace. The sorcerer gave him time to draw his own conclusions.

"Perhaps it is simple. I find Cas, she confesses her love to me, and that's it, even better, because I can be with her again." But how am I supposed to find her, in the whole world, after all, she is...

"Perhaps I can help you with that. If you have something, some gift from her that she gave you out of love, pouring that feeling into it, maybe I can do something. Do you have something like that?"

Danathriel didn't have to look far. He reached around his neck and removed the locket. The same one his mother had once given her, the one through which they met. She'd given it to him before leaving for the war. He handed the locket to the old man.

"Very well. Leave it with me until tomorrow. If there's a piece of her soul in it, I'll be ready by tomorrow and I'll figure out what else you need to know. Now go think about it." The warrior obediently stood up.

"Thank you for your help.

" "You're welcome, boy, I didn't have any good news for you. Think it over. See you tomorrow.

" "See you tomorrow."

The crisp evening chill enveloped Danathriel as he stepped outside. The bed in the rented room wasn't particularly comfortable, but that didn't bother him. He had no intention of sleeping. Thinking about Casandreia still made him cry, and life without her was the worst thing. Even if he ever managed to find her and break the curse, it wouldn't be soon. He didn't know how long a soul wandered, but it could probably be a hundred years. So much time without his beloved made his heart clench. He'd lost a part of himself that Cas had taken with her. Perhaps one day the feeling would fade and he'd start to forget about it, but now he felt drained of all emotion except regret and sadness. He'd longed to end himself, and that was precisely what he couldn't do.