The Matron looked down at the girl from the docks, her lip curling in a mix of pity and annoyance. "No name? Fine. We'll call you Mara. It's short, simple, and easy to scrub off the registry if you don't last the winter."
Mara didn't flinch at the name. She didn't care what they called her, as long as the soup was hot and the bed had a blanket.
For the rest of the day, the orphanage was a blur of activity. Mara was scrubbed clean of the city soot and dressed in a stiff, starch-scented pinafore. They gave her a narrow cot in the dormitory right next to the one Kiara slept in
That evening, as the sun began to dip behind the grey buildings, Mara sat on the edge of her new bed, her legs dangling. The room felt too quiet after the roar of the docks.
A group of older girls, led by the one who had tripped Kiara earlier, sauntered over. They wore fake, sugary smiles.
"Don't look so scared the leader said, sitting on the trunk at the foot of the bed. "This place isn't so bad. You get three meals—usually—and if you're lucky, a rich family might come by next month."
Mara just stared at them, her eyes hard as pebbles.
"But there's one rule you have to follow," the girl leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "In the room next door, there's a girl named Kiara. Stay away from her. Don't look at her, don't talk to her, and definitely don't touch anything she's touched."
Mara tilted her head. "Why? Is she sick?"
"Worse," the girl hissed, crossing her fingers in a protective sign. "She's cursed. She was left here with a warning from the devil himself. Everything she touches rots. Even the boy who used to protect her had to be rescued by a convoy just to get away from her bad luck. If you get too close, her curse will jump onto you."
The girls laughed and skipped away to the dining hall, leaving Mara alone in the dimming light.
Mara didn't move. She looked at the wall separating her from the "Cursed Girl."
Cursed. Mara's hand went to her own chest, feeling the ragged beat of her heart. Back on the docks, the sailors had called her a jinx. They said she brought the storms. They said she was the reason the fish didn't bite. She had spent seven years believing she was the only broken thing in the world.
A strange, dark curiosity began to pull at her
Instead of fear, a spark of rebellion lit up in Mara's eyes. She stood up and walked toward the door, her footsteps silent.