The Kingdom of @Fantasy and @YAFantasy.

***

There's a reason why my parents warned me never to go out after dusk.

It isn't because the air is so frosty with the strange magic riding the wind from the south that I shiver. It isn't because the shadows come alive, writhing over my boots as I move through the night. Nor is it because the wolves howl their hunger, setting the little hairs on the back of my neck on end.

Legend speaks of something more dangerous—a dagger that roams the kingdom under the cover of darkness, seeking a youth to wield it for a painful price.

Why darkness? I asked once.

So it can sneak up on unsuspecting girls and force them to yield to its will, my mother said.

Why a youth?

The dagger was forged by a boy who had known countless terrors in his life, my grandmother told me and my sisters one evening. Before he died at the hands of his tormentors, he cursed it to ensure that the youth would never again be powerless.

What of the terrible price?

Nobody alive knows what it is, only that whoever the dagger claims is never heard from again.

It was then that my father entered the kitchen to berate my grandmother for filling our heads with fairy tales, then shoved a wooden pail into my hands for us to busy our idle hands collecting grapes to make wine.

As mesmerising as the tale was, when the sun was high in the sky and the kingdom was alive with chatter, my sisters and I scoffed at the idea that it was more than a story. Now that I am alone after the sun has retired to bed and the land has fallen into a sleeping silence around me, the legend sounds like it can be something more.

"Ca..."

Hearing a whisper, I stop dead in front of our gate. I convince myself that it is nothing, just rustling leaves or the wind's breath.

I shouldn't be thinking about fairy tales after dark. The type told in Scydelle aren't to lull children into a sweet sleep, only to scare them into obedience.

I knew nothing else for sixteen years, but today is different. Romina, the baker's daughter, invited me to her birthday gathering this evening. It was after dusk, but she assured me we'd be safe indoors. I wasn't entirely at ease with the idea, but I couldn't refuse. Nobody refused Romina.

I told myself I was going because Romina always has the freshest bread and finest olives to offer her guests, but that wasn't the only reason. I wanted the chance to belong among the girls who had laughed at me once for having teeth too big for my mouth.

The gathering went better than I expected. The girls had giggled with me instead of about me. We chatted until we fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, I awoke in the same room as them with the realisation that I was in enemy territory.

Minica knocked a bucket of grapes from my hands once. I spent another day out in the sun to make it up.

Years ago, Antonella told everyone I was a changeling, made more hideous by my prettier sisters. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Those memories only made me want to go home, which is how I found myself outside after dusk.

It's the first time I break Scydelle's most important rule, and I'm already regretting it. Try as I might, I can't think of anything but the wandering dagger all the way from Romina's home to mine.

"Cali..."

Again, the voice floats through the air, winding its way into my ear. I glance at my sisters' windows. They are dark, but my sisters can't be asleep. They must have seen me outside and thought it would be funny to frighten me with breathy, sinister whispers.

I can't deny that it works as I cast a wary eye about and push at the gate. It doesn't budge.

I lean over it to see the lock gleaming on the other side. Of course Father locked it. He isn't expecting me back home until tomorrow.

I scale the gate, landing on the other side with relief washing over me.

I doubt that the wooden pickets can protect me from the dagger, but I'm home. All that's left to do is cross the vineyard, and I'll be at the door.

By day, the rows of vines are green as jealousy, laden with juicy grapes that shine in the sunlight, but by night's shadows, they turn cold and colourless, stretching on as far as my eyes can see.

"Calimera..."

A fearful shiver runs down my spine like a drop of icy sweat.

It isn't the wind or the leaves but a strange voice saying a name.

My name.

I cover my mouth before my scream escapes.

Father can't find me outside after dusk. If he does, being claimed by the wandering dagger would be preferable to his punishment.

My legs tense to run, but a ball of light appears in front of me, blocking my escape. Within it floats a silver blade with an ornate obsidian handle.

The wandering dagger is every bit as lovely as legend said, and every bit as terrifying.

"Calimera," says the indescribable voice again.

I cannot tell whether it is male or female, old or young. I only know that I must run.

"Leave me alone!"

I dodge it, but it ducks when I duck and lurches sideways with me.

Taking a chance, I feint. When the dagger mirrors my motion, I slip past it and sprint down the path flanked by vines.

"I will follow wherever you go, Calimera." The disembodied voice trails after me, as does the dagger.

I push myself faster.

A cloud of brightness flickers to existence in front of me. I skid to a stop just short of getting a blade in my eye.

"What do you want from me?" I ask.

"Greatness," it says.

"Then you have the wrong girl."

"I never get the wrong person. A noble destiny awaits you if you would claim me."

I should run to the safety of my house only a few steps away, but something keeps me rooted to the spot—a deep, dark part of me that wants to be revered and admired, not pointed and laughed at.

I raise an eyebrow, sceptical that any object could make my dreams come true.

"Do you not want to live on in legends when everyone you knew has turned to dust?" the voice asks.

There isn't much for me in Scydelle. I have always known that, even before people started whispering about me when I went to the market with my sisters, laughing that I'd be the last to find a husband, if I ever did.

But beyond Scydelle, the possibilities are endless. I can become anyone. I can be immortal, an enigma.

The dagger gleams, tantalising me.

Everything I have ever hoped for is right in front of me. All I must do is reach out and grab it.

It isn't so easy, of course. Legend spoke of the dagger, but also of a cost.

"If I accept, what do you want in return?" I ask.

A tense moment passes before the dagger answered, "Your memories."

My mouth goes dry. "All of them?"

"Yes. It's a small cost to become a legend."

I weigh it inside my head.

I can hang onto my memories and tether myself to this life of mocking mediocrity... or I can cut the ties that bind me to Scydelle.

I am a blight on my perfect family, my perfect kingdom. They will be better off without me. My path lies elsewhere, I know it.

While everyone else cowers in fear of the legends, I will become one.

"I accept."

With those words, a heaviness lifts from me. It's not an easy choice, but it feels right.

"Excellent," says the dagger. "Take my handle."

I grasp the cool obsidian grip, and my mind goes blank.

The halo surrounding the dagger brightens, blinding me. I know nothing, not where I am or what my name is, only that the dagger's handle rests against my palm as if it had been moulded for it.

"Your first quest awaits, Calimera," says the dagger. "A youth is in need of our help."

I leave the yard, jumping over the wall.

It has only ever been me and my trusted companion, and I will go wherever they lead.

I follow the road past a neat row of vineyards with front gates illuminated by lanterns. I have a sense of having been here before.

A faint memory brushes against my awareness like a feather, a voice murmuring of the unbearable price of possessing the wandering dagger.

I silence it. It knows not of what it speaks.

For how unbearable could the price have been if I can't remember what it was?