The Curse of The Ancients. Quintarra

Judging by all this, the conversation was going to be serious.

"It's Elamo-Dravidian language group — which technically isn't even fully recognized as a real thing, but still…" My friend placed her palms on the table, reminding me of a vice-principal from one of my childhood schools. "Don't ask how I got there, it's a long story. Let's just say I had to pull a few strings and dig up some dusty skeletons from closets. But! We have a rough dictionary!"

"So, I guess I need to go grab the book?" I voiced the obvious.

Orin pressed her lips together and gave an affirmative nod.

"Time to open this can of worms!"

A few minutes later, the manuscript lay on our round kitchen table.

After drumming her fingers in impatient anticipation, my friend began matching symbols to their meanings from a long list on her laptop, occasionally cross-referencing her guesses with comments from those forums.

"A-HA!" she suddenly exclaimed, shifting her gaze to the dark cover. More specifically, to the purple hieroglyphs that shimmered oddly in the dim evening light. Pointing at each, Orin gave them a possible translation, running through the first four. "Soul… Journey… Uncharted… Infinity…"

"That tells us absolutely nothing?" I propped my face up with my hand and gave her a skeptical look. "Even an idiot can tell that this isn't a cookbook."

Sharing my opinion, Silas let out a pitiful meow sitting in my lap, cautiously sniffing the history-soaked paper corners, which seemed to frighten even our fluffy, undiscriminating bookworm.

"Wait! We've only just started!" my friend assured me.

Muttering something under her breath like a protective spell in case the curse was real, Orin opened the ancient manuscript. The untouched aged binding crackled. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What is it?!" I got genuinely scared, leaning in closer.

"It's empty…" muttered my enthusiastic translator, examining the yellowed pages.

"It can't be?" I said, turning the book toward myself.

The first quarter of the pages were indeed blank, as were the second, and the ones after that. The only catch was the very middle, which felt much rougher to the touch than the rest.

Lost in thought, we sat in silence for over half an hour.

Had Bobby really fooled us, literally palming off empty air? But if the book was a dud, Orin wouldn't have been so wary of it. Then again, maybe it was just a fake?

"Wait a second…" An idea suddenly struck me.

I jumped up and grabbed the orange lighter sitting on the beige kitchen counter about three feet away. We often used it for cooking since our old gas stove was far from ideal, or to light incense, mostly in Orin's room. She liked pretty weird, heavy scents that reminded me of sweaty old lady fried in onions and gave me pounding headaches.

"What are you doing?" my friend asked, watching me wave a small flame in front of the manuscript.

"I saw this in a movie. Some of the pages are too rough, like something's embedded in them, and I thought maybe…" I started explaining, when suddenly my hand trembled.

As if by magic, the previously blank parchment began to turn black, reveling runic drawings and hieroglyphs lengthwise and crosswise, forming lines, columns, and even intricate square labyrinths.

Orin gasped in delight.

"Milk?" she took a wild guess, only to be met with my stunned face. "So that's it! Things are about to get really interesting…"

Chapter 4

The book turned out to be completely useless! Not only was there only about twenty pages of actual information in it — and those were right in the middle — but the translations Orin and I came up with were so clunky that our whole idea just felt plain stupid.

But honestly, at least we had something to do in our free time.

"I'm leaving till morning. Try not to kill each other, okay?" my friend said to me and Silas, throwing on a dark teal raincoat.

A couple of months had passed since we got the Grimoire, and even longer since the last time I'd had sex. And I absolutely couldn't wait to be alone.

"You too!" I joked in return, handing Orin her leather backpack.

Well, it was eco-leather. My friend cared about animals, and everything she owned was made with that in mind — though you could barely tell it from the real thing.

"Ha-ha! I'll do my best!" Orin grinned.

She gave Silas a kiss on his dirty nose, turned the old round doorknob, and left the apartment. A couple minutes later, my friend was out of the building.

I watched her through the window, then lowered the blinds and shut the frame tight.

"You've got food. Mommy needs some alone time!" I announced to the cat.

Silas meowed back at me and headed toward Orin's room. Meanwhile, I just wanted to take a bath in complete peace.

After that night, every time I lay in my bed, waves of loneliness and lust would wash over me, giving me goosebumps of disgust at a single thought about everything Owen and I had done.

"Damn it…" I muttered, feeling that familiar tingle of arousal in my fingertips.

For a typical Brooklyn apartment, we were super lucky to even have a tub — most people are thankful for a whacky shower. Even if it was in crappy condition, with peeling pale-yellow paint and the dim light from one lamp hanging by a cord somewhere near the ceiling.

This dump costs us way too much…

Pushing negative thoughts away, I filled the tub halfway with warm water and lay down on the barely cool bottom, which warmed up pretty fast from my own heated body, reaching for the vibrator I'd made sure to charge fully. Naturally, even with all its functions, that buzzing little machine couldn't replace what I'd had with Owen, which kind of pissed me off. But at least I could get a quick release.

I teased myself between my legs, then slid the tip inside…

It took me just a couple minutes to climax, and just as long to realize I wanted more. Again, and again…

After soaking in the bubbles for about an hour, I'd completely drained the vibrator.

"I need to do something about this…" I muttered, knowing that in around twenty minutes I'd probably be holding it again.

My crazy libido just wouldn't leave me alone, but I wasn't about to throw myself at the first random guy either — keeping a whole pig for just one sausage wasn't part of my plan anymore. Especially since most guys don't even know how to handle it.

Don't even get me started on the clitoris — those jokes have been around long before I was born, and clearly not for nothing.

I sighed and put my saving toy on the square stool next to my phone and a scented candle that I’d lit up to set the mood. After scrubbing with a loofah and washing my hair, I rinsed off, brushed my teeth, and got out of the bathroom, wrapped in my warm beige bathrobe.

Silas was asleep on Orin's bed, spreading his fluffy fur all over the t-shirt she'd left behind. I forced a little smile.

At least some of us are happy with their life!

After checking all the locks ten times before bed, I went into my bedroom.

I'd been dealing with insomnia for many days now and tried pretty much everything: exhausting workouts, breathing exercises, meditating before bed, even mixing sedatives with sleeping pills — you name it. Nothing could block out the constant noise from the highway outside or my insane upstairs neighbor who kept drilling a hole in the same spot 24/7. If it weren't for magnesium, I would’ve shoved that damn power drill right up his ass!

Out of desperation, my eyes landed on the Grimoire.

Like I said, we hadn't really gotten anything useful out of that super weird book. Orin had managed to figure out that the pages were organized in a logical way and divided into blocks. One of them covered the "astral projection technique," which we'd tried both together and separately.

Do I even need to say that we were still in our crappy Brooklyn apartment?

Maybe, I thought, we hadn't followed one of the main rules for that kind of travel. Because, to my surprise, the book didn't require complete and total relaxation, but rather a balance between letting go and staying in control.

"Alright, fine. Have it your way," I said to the manuscript, spreading it on the floor. The rough pages and old binding crackled a little under my impatient fingertips.

"…Find a comfortable position…"

I reworked that practice every which way, carefully following every word and note, but those magical worlds still wouldn't open up to my tired eyes. Putting the Grimoire aside, I climbed back into my messy bed and fell into a deep sleep within seconds.

Complete silence and darkness… Absolute nothingness…

Except for one glowing dot in the distance, moving toward me at an incredibly slow speed.

No, not a dot…

It's… a tunnel?

Changing colors from white to pinkish-purple, the unknown something suddenly sucked me into a whirlpool and dragged me down like a hungry Kraken. I kept flying and flying through this neon current as if it was a water park, until a bright light blinded me.

I opened my eyes and realized that I was lying on soft, grassy ground.

"So realistic…" I mumbled to myself, pulling my nails out of the rich soil, dark chocolate mud packed underneath them.

Usually, my dreams were pretty average — I'd either see everything that had happen to me that day, or have some crazy embarrassing nightmare about running naked through a crowd of people I know, or just floated in total darkness.

But this time, everything felt different.

I shaded my face with my hand and looked around.

"Holy shit!" I muttered in complete shock.

This was probably one of the most vivid dreams I'd ever had, as though I'd stepped right into a fantasy movie…

Stretching out into endless plains, the fertile land covered with emerald forests here and there smoothly transitioned into tall mountains that stood as harsh marble giants, blocking the blazing sun. The blue sky beamed with clusters of thick clouds that let warm rays slip through, gently falling onto the surface of a small lake not far from me, bouncing off it in rainbow sparkles. Wild vines lazily wrapped from one treetop to another, surrounding centuries-old trees that seemed to have a hundred little branches each — chaotically scattered up top, they all connected into a single massive trunk that twisted downward like a spiral into roots deep underground. Noticing one of them glowing with an azure shimmer, as if enchanted, my jaw hit the dusty floor.

I was standing at the edge of a sandy path leading far off toward jagged rocky cliffs.

Curiosity got the better of me. I got up on my feet.

There wasn't a single soul around — just me and untouched, virgin nature. The breathtaking view almost made me cry. But I didn’t get to see more of this mysterious place, because as soon as I took my first step, something unknown violently shoved me into a completely different space.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then opened them again.

This time I was inside a room. But it sure as hell wasn't Brooklyn…

Like a ghost, I was floating above the marble floor of a bathroom done in elegant sea-foam green, lit by bright daylight from a panoramic window somewhere to my right. I couldn't make out what was on the other side, no matter how hard I tried. All I could see was a huge mirror above a long, floating vanity made of white quartz.

A moment later, a stranger's figure appeared in front of it.

It was a man, tall and pretty athletic. I couldn't see his face, just his short, pitch-black hair and his bare torso, which, even in my unconscious state, sent a pulse through my body. He didn't look like those bodybuilder types I'd often see at the gym. His silhouette was muscular and sharply defined, as if the world's best sculptors had worked on every inch of those broad shoulders. On his right upper arm there was a dark scar of some weird shape, that seemed like a deep subcutaneous tattoo. I'd never seen anything like it.

Glancing lower I realized he was only wearing a towel…

A deep, completely confusing sigh escaped my chest. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand.

Being somewhere behind some kind of a veil, there was no way he could hear or see me. But somehow, as if guided by instinct, the stranger's head suddenly turned my direction.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline, but I got sucked back into the unknown again, and so hard that when I opened my eyes for the third time, I realized I was in my own bed, with the blanket clamped tight between my legs from all the pent-up tension.

I propped myself up on my elbows.

The room was pitch black, except for the occasional flash of lightning outside my window. While I'd been flying around in my sleep, a heavy rain had started outside. And it was freezing cold.

Hearing me gasp, Silas came running over to check on me.

"What a night…" I looked into his green eyes and scratched him behind the ears.

I only had a few hours left before my shift, and replaying everything I'd just seen in my head, I knew there was no point hoping for more sleep — no matter how much I wanted it. I tossed and turned for a bit, then got up, made myself some coffee, fed the poor cat that'd been scared by my reactions, and started getting ready for work.

I didn't tell Orin about my dream. Especially not when I saw how exhausted and drained she looked when she got home. I didn't ask how her shift had gone either — I knew better. Despite how sunny and nice the café looked on the inside, the staff was far from feeling that vibe.

Giving her a clumsy smile of solidarity, I grabbed my backpack with my freshly washed uniform and walked out the door toward the first chilly rays of an autumn morning.

The day dragged on forever…

Not only was it Tuesday, but my little nocturnal adventure kept nagging at me nonstop with how real it felt, leaving this intriguing aftertaste. I'd never had such vivid dreams in my life. And the stranger… That dominant silhouette was imprinted into my memory like he was right in front of me.

By the end of my shift, I felt that I'd lost whatever will to live I had left in this miserable world. After counting out the register — which, as usual, was short a couple bucks, so we all had to chip in to cover the difference — I gathered my stuff, looked around the empty dining room, and made a firm decision to never come back. What I planned to do next? God only knew. But walking out into the street with that clear realization, I felt like I was seeing everything from a completely new perspective.

"Whoever said that the best thing about a job is quitting was absolutely right!" I cheered myself up.

I slung my empty backpack over my shoulder and headed toward the nearest park, accompanied by envious and miserable stares from the other waitresses — the ones we'd never managed to become friends with.

But that was all in the past.

I had zero desire to go home, at least not right now when I had so many questions floating around in my head. So, I walked through a few crowded alleys and made it to the studio — still empty, just as before.

The whole situation was beyond strange.

"I think I'm starting to lose my mind…" I glanced at my tired reflection in the dusty glass doors, when out of the corner of my eye, I caught a guy walking past.

My jaw dropped, and my mouth went dry — the silhouette was a dead resemblance to the one I'd seen in my dream. Only this time, he was dressed for the weather, strolling through the evening streets of Brooklyn in a dark blue coat and straight-leg jeans.

I pulled back from the locked door and hurried after him.

I had no idea what I was hoping for or what I was even going to say to him if I ever caught up, but my exhausted legs were carrying me after the stranger like my life depended on it. And the sooner I catch him, the better, because autumn darkness was slowly but surely settling over the city.

I didn't know how long I trailed him for, but my fast walk turned into a run as I tried to keep up with his tall figure. Eventually, our paths split at an intersection.

Blending into the crowd, the stranger disappeared as though he'd never been there.

Feeling like a complete idiot, I threw my head back. My phone map showed I was God knows where, and I should probably get home as soon as possible — at least before this suburban neighborhood turned into a jungle where people breathe exhaust fumes and cocaine instead of air, and polite conversations are replaced by gunshots.

I looked around and swallowed hard.

"Rough day?" Orin asked the moment I stepped through the apartment door.

The smell of freshly made pancakes came from the kitchen, while I reeked of dog shit which I'd stepped in while running back and only noticed once I was already home.

I made a face.

"Where the hell have you been?" my friend wondered, looking me up and down. Sniffing my shoes, Silas threw up some chewed grass right on the doormat.

"Trust me, you don't want to know…" I waved it off, not wanting to get into details. Mostly because everything from the past day was connected, and I really didn't feel like untangling that whole mess.

"THERE’S NO HOT WATER, BY THE WAY!" Orin yelled when she heard me going into the bathroom.

"AAARGH!" I finally lost it.

This untimely injustice was the last straw.

The upside of living with someone is that whenever you come home, you can at least count on some decent company. And living with your best friend? You also get good food and a shoulder to cry on.

After dinner, Orin and I talked about recent events and our plans for the future. We decided that if we were going to start a new life, we'd do it together. Working as a waitress pissed her off just as much as it did me — except she'd found a way out much earlier. Orin had answered an ad for a receptionist position at some yoga studio she'd been meaning to check out. Not that the pay was that much better than the café, but it was enough to cover our basic needs for the next few months, for both of us. And my friend was nice enough to give me time to figure myself out.

And so, my unemployed life began.

I thanked her for being so understanding, cleared the table, and did all the dishes so that Orin could relax. Later, we gathered in my room to watch some movie about strippers.

Man, they let anything play in theaters these days!

Occasionally glancing over at the Grimoire, I couldn't wait to go back to sleep…

Chapter 5

Somehow, sitting at home, time both dragged and flew by at an insane speed.

Every morning felt the same: I'd wake up, make breakfast for two, feed the cat and clean up after him, then wash up and sit down at my laptop, scouring the Internet for a decent job offer. But everything I came across was either sketchy as hell or came with a mile-long list of requirements for pocket change.

Naturally, neither option worked for me.

So, after spending a few weeks sitting on my ass, I'd made exactly zero. If you don't count my worsening eyesight — there I was solidly in the minus. And about as far on the climb towards the top of my career ladder.

The only escape I had was the Grimoire, which, surprisingly, I barely put down. As soon as the streetlights came on, the book would magically end up in my hands. It was my silver lining. I only had a couple more pages left to translate, and I'd also learned to control my dreams — according to the ancient manuscript, they were called lucid.

As for that mysterious place, I'd gone back there more than once as it became my go-to destination — a quiet corner I'd visit when I really wanted to escape reality. How I managed to do it, I couldn't even explain to myself. All I knew was that in that place, I felt safe.

There was just one catch… I was still floating above the ground like a ghost.

Skimming through the manuscript yet again, I stumbled onto something that had been bugging me for days.

"Grounding practice?" I read the translation of another pair of hieroglyphs.

I raised an eyebrow and kept digging.

My brainstorming session ended the same way as all the previous ones — with my tired face smacking flat into the book. Sinking deep into sleep, I flew through that familiar tunnel again and found myself in my favorite spot.

"Okay. I need to focus…" I looked at my hands, trying to give them at least some kind of a form.

They weren't see-through or faded, no. But they had no life in them. No strength.

I just was.

I took a few deep breaths in and out, then commanded my mind to be here and now — over and over until my head started spinning from the strain.

Suddenly, a light breeze touched my skin. Goosebumps ran down my arms.

I opened my eyes and saw that my feet were actually standing on the ground — solid, yet still soft and welcoming. A wide smile stretched across my dry lips.

This feels kind of weird…

Oh well. At least I'm standing!

I spun around and noticed a dry stick lying on the rustling grass nearby. I tried to pick it up. At first, it wouldn't budge, but soon, after really focusing on it, I felt the rough bark against my skin.

Then, I reached out and touched the damp grass.

Whatever this book was, it had truly opened up a new side of dreaming for me. Now I could not only control and choose the events, but literally live inside my dreams.

Realizing the potential, I happily flopped down onto the ground, staring up at the blue sky and the stars twinkling far beyond the fluffy clouds, as if bright day and deep night were one and the same. How that was possible, I didn't care. I just lay there in silence, watching the cosmos, gathering strength to go back to my own world — the one wrapped in grayness and total indifference.

Little did I know where those careless flights would lead me…

After yet another Groundhog Day in reality, I was cherishing the moment when I could finally lounge on my favorite meadow. I happily flopped onto my bed, arms and legs spread wide, eager to get back to those fragrant flowers. But as soon as I flew out of the tunnel, my nose slammed into something hard, nearly folding like an accordion, as I found myself in one of my worst nightmares.

I crashed to the ground and started groaning in genuine pain, as if I'd been hit by a van at full speed.

"THAT'S HER! SEIZE HER!" I heard unfamiliar voices.

Squinting against the sun and writhing from the metallic taste of blood on my lips, I tried to open my eyes. Suddenly, someone's hands grabbed me by the wrists and yanked me up like a sack of potatoes.

"What's going on…" I mumbled, only then realizing that I was surrounded by strange people.

Men.

Dressed in smooth leather outfits that only covered the lower half of their buff bodies with tight pants, while the top half was hidden under something like belt-corsets, emphasizing their firm pecs, they looked as tribal Spartan warriors lying in ambush for their prey. Brutal and tanned, it felt as if the picture of the world in my head had merged with some medieval movie I'd watched before bed.

One of the strangers grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back.

"This would almost be hot if it didn't hurt so much!" I protested, only to get a loud slap across the face that nearly knocked me out cold. My eyes went wide with rage. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"