The Bracelet of Ill-Omen

Wren sat at the campfire examining the golden bracelet, wondering why the magistrate was so eager to gift it to them. Amelia sat next to her, running a cloth across her greatsword. As adventurers-for-hire, they’d seen many magical objects, and been rewarded with numerous strange gifts in payment for their work. But this piece of jewelry seemed different. Their employer for the day seemed glad to be rid of it and assured them it was quite valuable.

“Well, put it on,” Amelia urged, grinning at Wren as she wiped the last bits of goblin blood from her weapon.

“You know I’m not one for jewelry,” Wren sighed. But she couldn’t resist Amelia’s toothy smile and slipped the bracelet on her wrist.

As soon as the bangle fell into place, Wren was struck by a vision flashing through her mind. She was standing in a campsite further north in the rocky highlands. A raven had found her, a message tied to its leg. She unfurled the scroll and read that her mother had died. Then the vision faded.

“Woah,” she said, removing the bracelet and rubbing her eyes. “It’s definitely magical. It gave me a vision that my Mama passed.”

“Give it here!” Amelia said, balancing her sword across her knees.

Wren handed the bangle over, shaken by what it had shown her. Amelia carefully threaded her knobby hand through the center of the bracelet and closed her eyes in anticipation of a vision. After a moment, she pulled the bangle off, an expression of grief clouding her beautiful face. Wren hated to see Amelia look so distressed.

“It’s Rupert,” she said, gesturing to her bay stallion tethered nearby. “He was fatally injured when kobolds ambushed us…” Her voice broke off, emotion choking her throat. “I had to put him out of his misery.”

Wren looked at their pair of horses nonchalantly munching on ruffage. “That’s awful.” 

“I want to try again for a better vision,” Amelia said, slipping the bracelet on again. After a moment she said, “Damn. In that one I got in a fight at a tavern with some drunk idiot who called you a very unsavory name. He gave me a black eye and a bloody lip.”

Wren was relieved that the visions didn’t seem to be entirely about death. “I want another,” she said, tickled that Amelia would defend her honor like that. They exchanged the bangle again.

But this time when she slipped the ring of gold onto her wrist, Wren saw a vision she actually wanted to see. It was her and Amelia together. They were kissing. Their clothes fell to the floor. Amelia touched her and… oh my gods.

Before she fully lost herself to the euphoria of the vision, Wren fumbled with the bracelet and dropped it in the dirt. She was bright red and felt blood rushing to strange places. Her long-repressed feelings for Amelia stirred in her chest.

“Ooh,” Amelia said with a smirk. “That good, eh?”

Damn her, Wren thought to herself, unable to suppress a smile. Amelia could read her like a book and though the dim twilight partially disguised her expression, there was no hiding from the woman she’d spent countless years pining after. “It was, uh,” Wren stammered, her voice cracking, “a vision of something I actually want to happen.” She picked up the bangle and offered it to Amelia, curious if she’d see the same thing.

But when Amelia donned the bracelet for a third time, her expression washed to disappointment. Wren held her breath, expecting some kind of rejection. “I didn’t see anything,” Amelia finally said.

Wren sighed in relief. “Maybe it’s out of charges,” she suggested. “Sometimes magical objects wear out or need to be imbued with more magic after being used.”

“Probably,” Amelia said, examining the piece of gold in the flickering light. “Whaddya think, should we sell it?”

“Definitely. We have little use for this trinket. Surely those visions we saw aren’t real.” As much as Wren wished Amelia could be hers, she knew the likelihood that her feelings were reciprocated were slim.

“I gotta take a leak,” Amelia said, standing up and sheathing her greatsword. She tossed the bracelet back to Wren and ambled off into the dark woods surrounding their campsite.

Wren shook her head free of the strange and conflicting feelings welling up within her as she pocketed the bangle. They’d sell it in the morning and be done with the bizarre gift from the magistrate.

And sure enough, the bracelet did fetch a pretty penny. Their reward for clearing the goblin infestation was more than they’d earned from a single job in weeks. Spirits high, they set out on the road traveling north. Wren had all but forgotten about the visions they’d had until they came across a stretch of highlands that seemed eerily familiar.

“Wait,” she said, pulling her horse to a stop. “I’ve seen this place before. In the vision where I got the news about my Mama.”

“This is as good a place as any to make camp,” Amelia said with a shrug. “The sun is setting.”

Wren swallowed hard. The visions weren’t real, she told herself. It was simply a coincidence that they were pitching camp in this spot. As night settled over them, she kept her eyes fixed on the sky for a black bird. But none came. Relieved, she crawled into her bedroll and fell asleep.

She awoke the next morning to the croak of a raven in the twisted pine tree above her. The bird flew down and landed on her arm, holding out its leg where a tiny scroll was tied. Dread welled up within her and she unfurled the paper just as she’d done in the vision. Wren made herself read it, though she already knew what it said. Balling up the message and shoving it into her pocket, she ripped a scrap of meat from the bones of last night’s dinner and fed it to the bird.

“My Mama’s dead,” she said as Amelia sat up in her bedroll.

“Oh, Wren,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Blinking back tears, Wren’s eyes flitted to their horses picking through heather bushes in the rocks. Rupert was as he always was, muscled like Amelia, and coat glistening in the sunlight. “We will not take any jobs concerning kobolds,” she said firmly. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Agreed,” Amelia said.

They broke camp and continued on their journey north. There were rumors of raiders bothering a village and it seemed like something they could handle. No kobolds, only humans. It seemed safe enough. Surely, Wren reasoned, it was just a coincidence that the first vision came true. Though the other visions were unpleasant, she kept thinking back on the one where she and Amelia fell into bed together. That she assured herself, would never be real.

After another day of travel, Wren and Amelia could see the village of Millbrook in the valley below them. Their journey had been uneventful and they were relieved to spend the night at an inn instead of outside by a campfire. They kicked their horses into a canter and raced each other down the hill to an awaiting hot dinner and soft bed. But just outside the village, they were ambushed on the road.

Amelia blanched as she saw the kobolds. “No,” she whispered.

“Just keep going,” Wren urged. “We can outrun them. Once inside the village gates, we’ll be safe.”

The kobolds began firing arrows at them with their crossbows. The two women urged their horses forward, determined to leave the scaly bandits in the dust. But just as they thought they’d gotten away, Rupert let out a whinny like a scream and fell onto the ground, throwing Amelia. Wren wheeled her horse around, pulled her longbow off her back, and notched an arrow. She cursed under her breath as she began taking out the kobolds one by one. Her aim was far superior and her arrows were tipped with poison. She wondered, as she watched their enemies perish, if they hadn’t tried to run, would Rupert have been spared?

When the kobolds were finally dead, she dismounted and went to find Amelia kneeling at Rupert’s side. The horse had only sustained a single arrow to his haunch, but it was the subsequent fall that did him in.

“His neck is broken,” Amelia said tearfully. Her faithful steed was still alive, but unable to move.

“I’m sorry, Amelia,” Wren whispered. “If I hadn’t told us to run, maybe–”

“No,” Amelia interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. It was that blasted bloody bracelet.” She leaned down and kissed the tip of Rupert’s velvet nose. Then she rose and unsheathed her greatsword. Wren looked away as dark clouds began to gather overhead. Then, it was all over.

Wren and Amelia walked into Millbrook together, Wren’s horse Winnifred trailing behind with a double load of gear now that Rupert was gone. A gentle mist turned into a downpour as the villagers hustled around at the end of their workday. Even after Wren’s horse was stabled, and she and Amelia had mugs of ale and bowls of roasted chicken and vegetables, she still couldn’t relax.

“Promise me,” Wren pleaded, “that you won’t get yourself into any fights with drunken assholes. No matter what they call me.”

“Don’t worry,” Amelia said, glancing around. “This wasn’t the tavern from my vision.”

Wren released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Good.” Two of the four visions they’d seen had come true. She was beginning to think it wasn’t a coincidence. But that meant…

“Would you really deny me an opportunity to defend your honor?” Amelia asked, tucking a strand of Wren’s hair behind her ear.

Heat flushed into Wren’s face. Amelia was blushing too. Wren froze as Amelia’s hand lingered, her finger curled around Wren’s dark hair. This couldn’t be real. In a moment of brazen courage Wren brought her hand to Amelia’s and leaned into the fighter’s touch. Amelia’s hand was calloused and rough, but strong and warm. It felt so right against Wren’s cheek.

Amelia smiled and took Wren’s hand in hers, slowly bringing it into the space between them. “Do you remember why I first agreed to travel with you?” she asked, her brown eyes downcast.

“You didn’t think I could make it on my own,” Wren said with a laugh. Amelia rubbed her thumb over the back of Wren’s hand. “You said something about how I was a fragile little archer and needed someone who could get into the middle of the fray.” Wren’s voice turned squeaky and was far louder than it ought to be.

“Aye,” Amelia said and giggled. It was funny to see such a formidable warrior giggle. At least they were both making fools of themselves. “So let me fight for you if I want to,” Amelia said, grinning.

“Fine,” Wren sighed somewhat dreamily. How could she resist?

Amelia brought Wren’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “Good,” she said, her breath hot on Wren’s skin.

Wren was certain she was melting into a pool of liquid sunshine. All the pain from losing her mother and Rupert’s untimely demise faded away as Amelia made her wildest dreams come true. Perhaps the magical bracelet wasn’t so bad after all.

“I’m off to bed,” Amelia said, releasing Wren’s hand and standing from the table. She slammed the remainder of her ale and cleared her throat. Her face was flushed and she looked more nervous than Wren had ever seen her. It took quite a bit to rattle battle-worn Amelia. So much for being a fragile little archer, Wren thought smugly to herself. She delighted in the idea that she might be Amelia’s weakness.

The next day the pair headed out with a band of locals to address the raiders that had holed up in an abandoned farm outside of Millbrook. It was easy work to clear them out, both Wren and Amelia invigorated from their moment of connection the night before. As the party jovially made their way back into town to retrieve their bounty payment, one of the men invited them to share a pint at the other tavern in Millbrook.

When they arrived at the establishment, Amelia made a face at Wren to indicate that yes, this was the tavern from her vision. As their group settled down with their drinks, Wren noticed Amelia scanning the men, looking for the one that she’d inevitably brawl before the night was over. Wren rolled her eyes as Amelia covertly pointed out the drunkard in question. However, Wren made no attempt to depart before the fight broke out, nor pleaded with Amelia not to defend her. She knew what would come next, and though she’d hate to see Amelia bruised and bleeding, she knew it was the gateway to tearing her clothes off and kissing her senseless.

The man Amelia pointed out seemed very interested in Wren, trying to sit near her and offering to buy her a drink. Unknowing that she did not care for men and that her heart already belonged to Amelia, he made every attempt to flirt with her. It was annoying at first, but as the evening wore on and he continued to drink, it became insufferable. Eventually, Wren had enough.

“I am not interested,” she said, quietly but firmly. As she tried to move away from him, he erupted from his seat.

“Damned whore!” he bellowed. A string of profanities and thoroughly unsavory names followed, his slurred speech barely making it off his tongue.

Right on cue, Amelia stood, shoving her chair back and throttling the man’s gut with her fist. Wren retreated away from the fight as the two began to throw punches. She couldn’t watch and pressed her hands over her eyes. She heard the rest of the men scramble to their feet and try to break up the brawl. She winced as Amelia grunted and spat, clearly taking blows to the face. When the men had finally carted off their drunk friend, Wren rushed to Amelia’s side. Sure enough, she had a black eye and a bloody lip.

“Let’s go,” Wren whispered, regretting that she’d allowed the fight to take place. She couldn’t bear to see Amelia hurt on her account.

But Amelia just grinned, spitting blood again. “I haven’t been in a fight that good in ages,” she boasted. But as Wren helped her to her feet, she could tell that Amelia was in quite a bit of pain.

The pair limped back to the inn where they were staying, relieved to find the downstairs tavern quiet and mostly empty. Amelia hobbled to the fireside as Wren inquired about a basin of water and some rags to get Amelia cleaned up.

“You never did tell me what you saw in your last vision,” Amelia said as Wren wiped a cloth over her wounds. “The one that made you all flustered. The one you wanted to happen.”

“Oh,” Wren said, her heart on fire. “It was nothing.” It was not nothing.

“Come on, Wren,” Amelia pleaded. “Tell me what you saw.”

Wren set the rag down and looked into Amelia’s eyes. She touched Amelia’s bottom lip, running her thumb across the swollen part that had finally stopped bleeding. “Fine,” she whispered. Then she leaned in and kissed Amelia, very gently to not cause pain to her injury. The kiss was sweet and hesitant, as if Wren was asking, is this okay?

Amelia eagerly kissed her back and grabbed onto Wren’s collar, pulling her closer. It was most definitely okay. They kissed for a moment before Amelia whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“Really?”

“Ever since–” But before Amelia could tell Wren how long their feelings had been mutual, Wren kissed her again. And again. She couldn’t stop. “My room,” Amelia murmured into Wren’s ear. It was less of an invitation and more of a command.

The pair hurried up to Amelia’s room. Wren recognized it from her vision. It was dark and she couldn’t make out Amelia’s face, but she didn’t need to see it to know that they were both living a fantasy. They took off their clothes and melted into one another, their bodies intertwined in ecstasy. It was exactly as the golden bracelet had foretold. And for once, Wren did not begrudge the strange gift from the magistrate. The fourth and final vision had come true.

The next morning, Wren awoke curled into the crescent of Amelia’s body. But something was not right. “Amelia–” she said, turning over. But whatever she had planned to say next got caught in her throat and came out in a gasping scream.

Amelia’s face was pale and unmoving, dried blood trailing from her nose. Her body was stiff and cold. Wren gripped Amelia’s shoulders and tried to shake her awake. But she would not wake. Wren began to cry, pleading with Amelia to come back. But Amelia was gone. She wondered if Amelia had sustained a hidden injury in the brawl, an internal bleed perhaps. Maybe that was why the bracelet never gave Amelia a third vision. It knew she wouldn’t be around to experience another ill-omen.

Was it the bracelet that had caused the deaths of her mother, Rupert, and Amelia? Or was the bangle warning her of what was to come? If she’d believed the visions would come true and acted accordingly, could she have saved any of them? If she’d gone to a healer instead of to make love, would Amelia have survived her injuries?

Wren supposed that it didn’t matter now. The bracelet of ill-omen had forever changed her life. It had tricked her into barreling toward a future that would lead to her beloved’s death. No wonder the magistrate had been so eager to part with it.