Curse of Strahd
The "Blessed" Child
Aunt Lexi and Uncle Sloan call me the “Blessed Child”. What else would you call an infant who lived through a house fire?
I wouldn’t call myself “blessed”. A knocked over candle took my parents. Was it a miracle that my cradle was spared from the inferno? No. It was just bad luck that it happened in the first place. When I was 5 a barn fell on me. Yes, an entire barn. Uncle Sloan thinks the rafters may have had mold damage. I nearly drowned twice; once when I was 7 and again when I was 9. I’m not allowed to swim in the lake anymore. I’ve broken more bones than I can count. The apothecary calls me a “medical anomaly” based on how many terrible fevers I’ve suffered. In fact, I can hardly remember a time in my childhood when I wasn’t recovering from some sort of injury or illness.
Sometimes I think to myself that I somehow denied death in that fire, and ever since then death has been trying to reclaim me. I mentioned this to Uncle Sloan once, but he laughed and told me that “death is no match” for me. He thinks I’m a fighter…a survivor. But I know the truth: bad things happen to me. Always have, and always will.