Cursed

"It ends with me!"
His deafening words echoed through the impenetrable darkness.
"Why did she leave me?!" Dimitri felt tears slide down his face and he could not wipe them away.
"Tsura, why did you leave me?" Sobs echoed the longing he had for her only to be smothered in sadness.
Dimitri remembered the last time he saw her. It felt like it had been just yesterday when Tsura finally beat him at chess. It was an impossible gambit. A knight, a bishop, and a rook, that Dimitri hadn't seen coming, was all it took to take him down. Maybe he let her win.
"Oh, wow! Checkmate, Dimitri!" Her accent mingled with the words sending shivers down his arms. Tsura's face lit up with the ecstatic delight of a child at Christmas. She jumped around the room with the energy of a tree sprite.
Dimitri checked the board, moving his fingers over every piece with meticulous care calculating all possible moves. There was nowhere safe he could move his king. Tsura had done it.
He was proud of Tsura at that moment. It had been five years since the first time they had played together. She played a very clumsy game, just a basic knowledge of the rules but no skill in the moves. She had come a long way since then.
Tsura was a gypsy girl from a local caravan. She had started tending the gardens around the house when he was about ten years old. She was about three years older and all she could do was water the plants.
One day she was tending the flower pots on the stone patio outside of his room. She was humming an unknown tune; its sweetness demanded all of his attention. The energy called out to him. Her beauty rivaled with the blossoms she mingled amongst. As he watched her through the windows, she flitted about the radiant blooms like a ballerina. Dimitri fell in love. That afternoon was the first time that Tsura accompanied Dimitri in his solitary existence.
Dimitri's father was a politician and often away from home on business. His mother died when he was four. Soon after the funeral he was bedridden with an unknown illness. His breathing was poor because of the damp mountain climate, but after his mother died, it got worse. He could no longer walk the halls of his father's house or the rows upon rows of his mother's gardens without getting winded.
Confined to his room, Dimitri kept company with the books of Jules Verne, Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, and so many others. Their monsters were his only friends.
Existence was lonely for Dimitri until Tsura started coming around. She was the light in his dim and dank, cobweb covered world. She was his only friend outside his books. His mother was dead and his father was never around. The servants barely checked on him unless they were bringing his meals. She was all he had.
That was all over, now. She was gone. After that final chess game they sat on the patio looking into the twinkling eyes of the black sky. Content with life, mesmerized by the stars, he hadn't noticed that Tsura had retreated into the darkness. A cold wind blew across the sky breaking Dimitri from his gaze to find Tsura had blown away. She did not return ever again to tend the flowers or to play chess.
The light in his life grew dim, sinking Dimitri into depression.
Night after night, he was plagued with the same dreams of Tsura. Humming a sweet gypsy tune, she ran through dark trees. Her laughter was the sweet songs of angels. Her hair flowed behind her like willow branches in the wind. He chased after her, dodging tree branches that weren't there before. As soon as he could reach out for her she would fade into the black. "Tsura!" His ears would ring with a high pitched scream. "Don't leave me!" His own voice always brought him back to reality. He remembered she was gone, leaving him empty. Crying into his pillow, he would fall back asleep.
Each day was the same, day after day. Thoughts of Tsura were a constant on Dimitri’s mind, but on this day he was thinking about that first time he saw her in the garden. He had noticed her right off. She skipped between the flower pots humming a cheery tune. She touched each plant with a tenderness of a mother as she wet the soil in which they thrived. She was disheveled and dirty but her eyes sparkled like the water pouring from her watering bucket. Her smile shone with the brightness of the sun. She was happy. Through all of the dirt, she was happy. Through the filth flourished a wondrous beauty. He was enthralled by her spirit. He desired her body, but her spirit he desired with a growing lust.
That night, Dimitri dreamt a different dream. It felt real. He was standing in a dim clearing amidst luminous trees. The air was thick in his lungs. His breath rattled in his chest, his body weak and frail. His hands shook with fear. Her humming voice flitted around on the wings of lustrous dragonflies in melodious harmony. Soft footsteps echoed through the trees before an almost blinding light pierced a single point in the haze. The pin prick of light started taking shape. Slender feet of alabaster materialized out of the light, walking in time with the echoing footfalls. Dewdrops caressed each shimmering toe as they alighted just above the moss on the forest floor. The glowing slithers of light flowed up past shimmering feet. Ankles bent with each step as calves flexed into succulent knees. Smooth thighs rounded into hips that snuggled up to a slender waist. A tapering torso was followed by full breasts. Shoulders sparkled with arms that framed a face that shone as the moon itself. Eyes of dazzling diamonds peered between locks of silver hair that flowed about her. Her smooth skin was flawless and the color of fresh cream. She was perfection.
Her movements were delicate like a summer breeze in lace curtains. Dimitri was entranced by her beauty. He was under her spell.
"What do you desire?" Her voice was velvet on his skin as she glided closer.
"Her spirit."
"Who is "her"?" The words breathed from between her lips against his neck.
He was powerless to speak against a sudden piercing image of Tsura.
"Is she whose spirit you desire?" She was silent, staring into his eyes, into his soul. "She is the daughter of the Lord." Her silence was deafening. "There will be a price."
"Anything."
"A hasty answer for an unknown price, but it is done. The spirit is yours. You are the son of the Lord. Her tired body can now lay in its final rest."
"Her body... final rest? What do you mean?"
"She can now pass on to the next realm, to be with the Lord."
"Is he the Christian Lord?"
"Darkness, no. He is the Lord of Darkness. Some call him the Prince of Darkness, but out of fear for servitude."
Dimitri felt the power flowing through his veins. The deal was done. He couldn't go back. Tsura was gone, out of his reach, in to another realm. He did it for her, he wanted to be with her, but the spirit he coveted was not her own. He felt cheated.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me that she was just a vessel?" His anger grew into an instant bitter hatred.
"A hasty answer for not knowing the price, but what's done is done and can not be undone. Find a new vessel to pass on the spirit. This will ensure your freedom from the Lord's curse. Pass on the bloodline."
Darkness encompassed Dimitri as the real-dream faded. He collapsed to the ground, sobbing into a mossy pillow, sinking into the damp bed, willing a green comforter to grow up around his body, snuggling up over his shoulders, squeezing into his neck. He wouldn't move. He screamed his agony. He vowed the bloodline would die with him.