It was said she was cursed with her amber hair and her one gold eye.
One was a flame like blue and the other was of hot fireside gold.
So she was cruelly named Amber for her auburn hair and her golden eye that shone like precious gem in sunlight.
She was scorned by all who met her.
Nothing was ever enough no matter how hard she labored.
She had a high forehead, grey mournful lips that always, that were long,slim and forever frowning.
She always appeared to have a forlorn expression as if she could foretell some future tragic event.
It was rumored that she had the sight and that's what made her so sad.
People would whisper about how that golden eye was the mark of clairvoyance.
Some of the townfolk would claim she was blind but Amber never had a issue with her vision ever in her life.
She noticed a great deal and was extremely observant, she indeed knew things that others thought she ought not to know.
She could read and write exceptionally well, that right there was a sign of evil to these ignorant townsfolk.
She was well read especially in books of nature and astronomy.
She could name every star in the sky, every plant in the forest and every animal that roamed in the wilds of the woods.
It was said that she understood all the mysteries of nature, she spoke the tongues of animals and she could hear the voices of the stars.
This was not far from the truth.
She understood every creature she'd ever encountered and on some nights when she would study the stars she could hear little voices from the distance talk amongst themselves, unaware that someone was listening to their whispery conversations.
When the days were hard it did her heart good to hear the voices of the stars.
She'd close her eyes and let the chorus of nature calm her soul.
These voices never scorned her and they never criticized her.
The townfolk had words that dripped of asp's venom and they bit like the jaws of wolves, even though their words left their scars she was strong and she hid her pain well.
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She didn't just hide her pain she swallowed it, she let it burn her throat but instead of having that poison consume her she stored it away in tiny boxes so she could look at these secrets pains from her past and remember how far she'd come.
Her hands were testimony of that.
She had harshly used hands, her nails were short, her knuckles bore tiny scars from hard labor of working out in fields scrubbing dishes and scouring floors.
Her slender wrist had white marks from the smack of cruel tree branches she had received when her employers thought she deserved a lesson.
Thankfully she was never whipped.
She would have never stood for that.
She might have been an orphan of illegitimate means but she was not slave girl.
Amber had a stubborn will and if she didn't feel she was being treated the way she saw fit she'd pack her bags and leave.
She had to work regardless of how hard the work was, she had no choice but to put up with harsh labor without complaint.
Everybody assumes she was rather dull since she rarely spoke a word and she was frequently uncoordinated.
Despite her slight clumsiness she never did a shoddy job in her life.
No one usually ever noticed her hard work but when they finally did take note they became startled and suspicious.
When they saw things a little too clean or little too organized; if anything was too perfect they started ranting at her, accusing her of being a witch.
She would then move on to the next town before any trouble ensued.
Pitch Forks and Fire was something she wanted to avoid.
No job no matter how stable was worth her life.
She was beginning to be awfully tired of having to deal with suspicious townsfolk.
She wanted to find one town that would accept her as she was.
One town she could call a home.
One town where she didn't get treated like she was less than dirt.
She spent her whole life stuck in the mud and mire.
She wondered if it was at all possible to be loved.
Love was something you heard in stories.
It usually involved a prince, a sword and a dragon but still it was there.
She knew for certain that no prince that llllwould come galloping to her aid.
She was far too plain and her neck was far too long, she had one of those odd little noses that was slightly upturned and red.
She always looked like she had a cold and she had little red speckles around her eyes from all the sun she had received, compliments of all those sun soaked days spent out in the fields.
At least her eyes were pretty enough and her hair was healthy.
She had some things to be thankful for and now that was leaving this town she was thankful.
This time was to be different.
There was a rumor of a castle.
It was more lore than a story and it was quite possible that it didn't exist but it was at least something to look forward to.
Long ago there was a Evil Queen of no name, she peered into her mirror everyday and every moment she stared into the mirror brought her closer and closer to madness.
She was well versed in black magic and she used this knowledge to freely practice it upon anyone who was foolish enough to challenge her.
She was so filled with rage in those days that everyone was a challenge to her, therefore everyone tasted her wrathe one way or another.
The mirror however was her only faithful subject.
The mirror never lied and was always honest with her for every mirror especially those that are enchanted fear that if they do not speak the truth that will shatter in a million pieces.
However the mirror was not completely devoid of trickery.
He knew the Queen's weakness and her weakness was beauty.
She longed for beauty more than anything else and she was willing to do everything in her power to achieve it.
She even went as far to giving her soul.
It was said that the Queen locked away her soul in a box so she could be the most beautiful in all the land yet no matter what the mirror told her to do it was never enough.
She then tore out her heart and had that locked away as well but even then she would still fall short.
She gave everything she had for beauty even her very sanity.
Finally with so little left she went into yet another rage, she sought for vengeance, but in her blind rage and anger she stumbled and fell eventually tumbling to her death.
So it was her madness that made her fall to her death.
It was her madness that pushed her to edge of the cliff.
Madness is what killed her and nothing more.
This story always made her rather sad.
Yes she was no doubt a villain and her reign needed to be brought to an end but her death was not befitting a queen.
She deserved death but the kind of death was something only a cruel author would write.
This Castle that she was headed to was supposedly the same one that this Evil Queen had lived in.
The Townsfolk said it was cursed.
She was supposed to be cursed so maybe when two cursed things came together they became less cursed than before.
They told her to never go there.
It was wretched and barren, cracked and thorn ridden, every thorn smelled of blood and the roses were black and gave off the foul aroma of decaying flesh.
It was vastly over exaggerated.
It couldn't be all that bad.
The Queen was long gone, there were no threats, no signs of life, everything was completely abandoned.
It sounded perfect and in fact it looked perfect from what she could see.
There were wild thorns and briars all about but nothing that would have prevented her from entering the Castle.
It was indeed barren, the ground was dry and cracked.
The thorns twisted away at her presence and the rose folded inwards and the thorns shriveled back into the woods as if retreating from her.
The briars recoiled and all ominous plant life crept back to the forest till there wasn't a sign of nature anywhere and all that was left was harsh stone and coarse dead dirt.
The air smelled of decaying plants not decaying flesh.
There was a faint metallic oder but nothing that prominent that would suggest that the blood had been fresh.
There was also no trace of any danger.
The Castle itself was devoid of any life.
She nearly choked at the stale dusty decorum of the place.
You could tell that no kindness had ever come to this place.
It was frightfully warm in some areas where the sun peaked in from small cracks in the wall and while other places was painfully chilly.
At certain times she could see tiny holes in the ceiling, that interconnected from softy etched lines that threatened to open at any moment.
She began to feel a sweep of sadness wash over her yet again.
This could have been such a elegant and cheery place but no one of any compassion had ever inhabited it.
So it was abandoned and completely forgotten.
The only thing remembered of this place was of the story, the evil queen and her madness.
She could see an aura of loneliness and she could feel the gentle tendrils of magic coursing like veins through the castle.
Magic had a smell to it.
She'd smelled it before when she had met a traveling bard.
The Bard had smelled of sunflowers and sunshine.
It was a warm smell, a calming one, his breath was pure gold and around his neck he wore a chunk of amber.
"I see you eying my amber".
His eyes were just like hers, born of two shades.
One was grey and other was gold.
She didn't want to insult him, she didn't want to offend, so she spurned her gaze to the ground.
"It's not Magic you know.
It's from a tree.
The tree it bleeds you see and when it bleeds the blood hardens and it makes this.
I call it natures gold yet you probably already knew that".
"No I didn't no but I suppose it makes senses.Every creature bleeds, even the plants bleed so why shouldn't the trees bleed too".
She answered him solemnly.
"Wise words from someone so young.
You'd make a fine bard."
"Women don't make bards, they make maids and good wives."
She glumly stated to the Bard.
"Some women do, the ordinary ones do at least.
You're not a bit ordinary.
Why I've been places where women never marry until they're well over 30.
I've been traveled to a town that was full of old maids, all the men had given up long ago because all the women were far too stubborn and modern.
Those women didn't touch a pot unless they wanted to.
They owned their own property and they sold land, they'd even run their own businesses right out in the market streets.
They brazenly would barter and trade just like a man.
There's nothing they couldn't do.
Why I came across a female adventurer much like myself, she'd never thought for a moment that that feminine nature would be a liability.
She saw it as a strength.
So don't tell that that's all women are good for is marrying and housework."
He almost seemed indignant but there was a shimmer of humor still left in his eyes.
"I still can't be a bard not in a place like this.
I'm the child of a whore they tell me.
They say my father was a wretched wizard, the dark kind that practiced black magic.
He had his way with a woman from a brothel.
They say I'm cursed.
I have the marks to prove it, my eyes, my hair and I have a magic symbol etched into my right shoulder."
"Do you believe them? These rumors that they tell you?"
"No not really".
"Then there you go.
You shouldn't worry about what they have to say.
That mark you bear is not a symbol of magic by the way.
It's the mark of a Bard.
Bards often have strange birth marks."
"How do you know?"
"I know because I have the gift of sight just like you do.
Sometimes it's more a instinct than a sight.
Yet you mark my words that no good will ever come if you stay here.
No place is worth your sanity.
No place is worth your dreams.
Don't sacrifice your life for a place like this.
This town is full of ignorance and superstition and you have no place in it.
Unlike them you're smart, you have wisdom, you have a head for knowledge.
Anyhow I shall be here again one day and I hope when I return that you won't be here."
She thought this strange since he seemed to enjoy her company.
"Not that I don't enjoy your company, I do it would be better if you weren't here, better for you that is.
You have a future and that future is outside of this godforsaken town."
He had been right.
However when she thought of the future she always imagined her life would be better.
So far her life hasn't improved.
Perhaps this Castle was a sign, a sign that life would be better or perhaps it was a sign of something that even that Bard hadn't foretold, something involving magic.
A ancient magic that had somehow been forgotten that Amber herself didn't quite understand at least not yet.