As far as my memories go, my mother always told me the same story. At least that's what I thought.
Actually, history was changing with me.
When I was a child, it was a wonderful tale. A tale like the ones we tell to sleep with the little girls. At that time, we were not a camp. We were a village. A happy village. A village where people danced every night. Where the kids were playing in the fields. Where no one was afraid.
And at the center of this story was a prince.
Kamino.
I still remember how my mom used to say her name. Like something precious. Like something old.
Kamino was beautiful. Intelligent. Loved of all. I imagined it as the princes of cartoons. A hero. A man destined to save the world.
Then the years passed. And the story changed.
By the age of ten, Kamino ceased to be a hero. The village ceased to be happy. And the great journey of our ancestors ceased to be an adventure. He was becoming a leak.
I was asking questions. Always the same.
- Why did they leave?
— Because they had no choice.
- Why?
- You'll understand later.
I hated that answer. Adults love to promise future answers to avoid responding to the present.
Then came my fourteenth birthday.
I think my mom's been dreading this day for years. She spent the whole day avoiding my eyes. She seemed nervous. Concerned. Like she was going to have to do something she'd always pushed back.
When evening came, we were alone. For the first time in my life, I noticed that she had prepared the place. A candle was burning on the table. The curtains were drawn. The TV was off. Even his cell phone was gone. Like she didn't want any witnesses.
I'm sitting in front of her.
She remained silent for several seconds. Then she took a deep breath.
"What I'm going to tell you now is not a legend.
I still remember those words. Because they changed everything.
- It's not a tale. It's not a invented story. That's our story.
I didn't answer. I just listened.
Then Rose started.
Centuries ago. Long before our camp. Long before Granada. Long before France. Our ancestors lived in a prosperous village. An agricultural village. Peaceful.
Among them lived a young girl named Maev.
My mother said she was beautiful. But it wasn't her beauty that made her special. It was his freedom. Maev refused to live according to the rules imposed on women of his day. She was dancing. She was singing. She laughed too loud. And above all, she chose her own life.
In the neighbouring village lived Kamino. Son of a powerful family. Destined to become the leader of his people. He was young. Brilliant. Charismatic. And when he first saw Maev, he fell in love with her. At least that's what he called love.
My mother stopped for a moment. Then resumed.
— But love is not always what it claims to be.
Kamino asked Maev's hand. She refused. He insisted. She refused again. He promised wealth. Protection. Power. She always refused. Because she considered that no one had the right to choose one's life in her place.
On his fourteenth birthday, the suitors appeared in front of the family house. As the tradition wanted.
The first was Sativo. A young peasant. A childhood friend. A boy who always loved him. He arrived before sunrise. And stayed all day in front of the house. Patient. Silent. Faithful.
Then Kamino arrived. At nightfall. And, for the last time, he asked Maev to become his wife.
For the last time, she refused.
That night, everything turned.
A cry woke up the village. Then another one. Then dozens.
Maev went out of her house. Her parents behind her. And discovered the bodies of the suitors. Mutilated. Killed. Abandoned in front of his door.
Sativo was alive. The only one. Terrified. Covered with blood.
He told him what he had seen.
Kamino.
His sword.
His anger.
His madness.
He ordered Maev and his parents to leave the village, so they fled. They spent the night in the woods. And when the sun rose, they returned to the village.
I still remember my mother's gaze at that moment in the story. Like she's reliving the scene herself.
The village was burning. The houses were still smoking. Bodies were everywhere. Whole families were massacred.
Maev found his house destroyed. His loved ones dead. His world is wiped out.
Then they found Sativo.
Or his body.
Kamino was kneeling near him.
His sword still planted in his chest.
Rose stopped. Long time. Then she continued with a lower voice.
Maev realized that he would never stop. She gathered the survivors. The guida away from the village. For several days. Until they're safe.
Then she did something that no one understood.
She returned alone to Kamino.
I remember my silence. I already knew the end. I felt it coming.
- Why?
My mother looked at me.
- Because she wanted to save others.
Then she continued.
A week after the village was destroyed, Kamino returned to Maev. In the place where it all started. He proposed to her one last time to become his wife.
One last time.
Maev refused.
Then she pulled out a dagger.
And shoved it into the heart.
She would rather die free than live with a man who became a monster.
The silence that followed seemed endless to me.
Then my mother spoke the last sentence. The phrase that all the children of our family would ever end up hearing.
"And in his folly, Kamino cursed the survivors. He swore that as long as only one descendant of Maev lived, he would pursue them. He'd destroy their love. Their families. Their children. Their happiness.
And since that day...
The curse continues.
I didn't know what to think. Part of me wanted to laugh. Another one was scared. A third was simply exhausted.
After all, I was fourteen. I wanted to think about the boys. To the friends. To the exits. Not to a curse of centuries.
Finally, I got up.
- Do you really believe that?
My mother didn't reply right away.
Then she murmured:
- I don't believe it, Aeriss.
I live with it.
That night, I had a dream.
And when I woke up, I didn't look at the camp the same way.