Chapter 13: The Evil Eye
The morning light crept slowly into the village, the air still heavy with the remnants of the argument from the night before. Ian hadn't slept. He sat by the smoldering fire, his arms resting on his knees, eyes hollow with worry and doubt.
Avrielle's words kept echoing in his head like a drumbeat he couldn't silence.
> "We were forced into this." "I don't think this place is what we think it is."
He didn't want to believe her. He couldn't. Everything they had built—everything he had felt—couldn't just be...fake. Manufactured. It didn't make sense.
But neither did her change. She had gone from blissful to panicked in a matter of days. Her eyes, usually soft and dreamy, now held something sharp—paranoia.
Maybe she was scared. Or maybe something was wrong. Something deeper.
"Ian?" a voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He turned. It was the village chief, a tall man with a weather-worn face and deep-set eyes. He approached quietly, as if already aware of Ian's turmoil.
"You look troubled, son."
Ian gave a tired smile. "It's Avrielle. She's… different lately."
The chief sat down beside him. "Different how?"
Ian exhaled. "She keeps saying this place isn't real. That our life isn't real. She says something happened to us. That we don't belong here. She even accused the village of doing something to us."
The chief's brow furrowed with concern. "That is… troubling. But not unheard of."
Ian's eyes widened. "It's not?"
The old man shook his head solemnly. "No. Sometimes, the young ones—especially expecting mothers—become vulnerable to outside forces. A wandering spirit, a jealous presence, someone who does not wish you two happiness. They plant evil thoughts, turn one against the other."
Ian's jaw clenched. "You mean like… some kind of curse?"
The chief nodded slowly. "The evil eye. It poisons the mind, distorts reality. I have seen this before. But do not worry. There is a way to heal her."
Ian looked at the man, hope flashing in his expression. "How?"
"She needs a cleansing. The old woman, Maeri, can do it. But it must be done soon. Before the spirit takes root."
Ian stood up quickly. "Take me to her."
—
Maeri's hut stood at the edge of the village, partially hidden by tall trees and curling vines. The inside smelled of herbs and incense, of something ancient and powerful. Ian hadn't visited her since the early days after their arrival, when everything had still felt like a strange dream.
The old woman looked up from her corner, her white eyes staring through the smoke of a smoldering bowl.
"She has been touched," Maeri said, before Ian even spoke. "I saw it last night in the ashes."
Ian's breath hitched. "Can you help her?"
"Yes," she said simply. "But she must be brought here willingly. She must submit to the fire's judgment."
Ian hesitated. "She… she might not come on her own."
Maeri's gaze hardened. "Then you must bring her. If you love her, do not let the darkness take her."
He left with purpose, his heart pounding with the urgency of it all. He was going to save her—from herself, from the evil that had twisted her thoughts.
—
Avrielle sat in the far corner of their hut, her arms wrapped around her belly. She hadn't slept. Her body was exhausted, her emotions raw. She hadn't expected Ian to believe her—not immediately—but she hadn't thought he'd push her away so completely.
The door creaked open.
"Ian," she whispered, startled.
He stood there, eyes fixed on her, a strange intensity in them. "Get up. We're going somewhere."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"To Maeri. The old woman."
Her brows furrowed. "Why?"
"She knows what's happening to you. She can help."
Avrielle slowly rose to her feet. "What do you mean 'what's happening to me'?"
Ian took a step closer. "You're not well, Avi. You've been poisoned. Someone's put an evil eye on you. That's why you're having these thoughts."
Her heart dropped. "Ian… no. That's not—That's not real. They're doing something to us."
He reached for her arm. "Come with me."
She yanked it back. "Don't touch me. You said you loved me. And now you think I'm crazy?"
"I'm trying to save you!" he said sharply, his voice cracking.
"I don't need saving. We do."
He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist gently but firmly. "Avrielle, please. Just come. Let her try. If nothing changes, I'll listen. I promise."
She stared at him—at the boy she loved, the one who had held her hand during moonlit walks, the one who kissed her forehead when she felt sick. He still looked like her Ian, but something was missing in his eyes.
A piece of him had been taken too.
Her resistance faded as fear tangled in her gut. If she didn't go, would they make her go anyway?
"Fine," she said. "But only to prove I'm not the crazy one."
—
Maeri was already prepared when they arrived. Her hut was filled with flickering candles, a large bowl of herbs and coals in the center.
"Sit," she ordered, pointing to a small stool near the fire.
Avrielle sat hesitantly, her eyes scanning the room, watching every movement.
Ian stood behind her, arms crossed.
Maeri began chanting softly, throwing herbs into the fire. The smoke swirled thick and fragrant, making Avrielle's eyes sting. She coughed, her vision blurring.
"You are not yourself," Maeri said in a low voice. "There is darkness in you. Whispering lies. Telling you what is not true."
"No…" Avrielle mumbled. "You're the ones lying."
Maeri ignored her. "You are not safe like this. You must be cleansed."
"I don't want this," Avrielle said, struggling to rise, but Ian held her gently in place.
"Just let her finish," he whispered.
"No, Ian. Please." Panic rose in her chest like a wave.
The old woman picked up a vial of clear liquid and tilted it over the fire. A burst of white smoke engulfed them both.
Avrielle gasped, eyes fluttering as the scent invaded her lungs, her senses.
"Ian…" she whispered, suddenly dizzy. "Don't… let them…"
But Ian was already a blur in her vision. The edges of her world were folding in, darkening.
Maeri stepped closer, her fingers brushing Avrielle's forehead. "Rest now. You'll feel better when you wake up."
And then, everything went black.
—
Ian sat outside the hut for a long time after the ritual, staring at the sky. The chief sat beside him in silence.
"She'll be okay, right?" Ian asked softly.
The chief nodded. "She will return to you. Sometimes, love must fight through shadows."
Ian took a shaky breath. He had done the right thing. He had to believe that.
But somewhere, in the depths of his chest, a tiny flicker of doubt remained.