Chapter 3: Curse-born

Pierce looked calm, unreadable. He remained across the room as he spoke.

"Tomorrow, you'll be moving into the Ashcroft residence in Crescent City,” he said in a cool authoritative voice.

"I've already been informed of your parents' expectations."

He swirled the amber liquid inside his glass.

"They're hoping we'll have children as soon as possible." His gaze didn't leave mine as he continued, "They want one of them to inherit the Estia Clan."

A faint smile touched his lips. "Your parents don't waste time planning the future, do they?"

Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten. He seemed... unimpressed.

Mom had warned me not to offend him, yet before we'd exchanged more than a few sentences, my family's ambitions had already become the topic of conversation.

The worst part was that he wasn't wrong.

My parents truly intended for one of my future children to become the next head of the Estia Clan. They believed that my child could possess the Holt’s gift of my magic.

Though I'd overheard enough late-night conversations to know they still feared whatever had happened to me might be inherited. More than once, I'd caught fragments of discussions about producing another heir while they were still young enough to do so. Witches aged differently from humans. They still had time.

"I understand why they think that way," Pierce continued. "You were supposed to inherit everything."

His expression remained impossible to read.

"But after tonight, you're no longer the Estia Clan's successor."

A brief silence settled between us.

"That can't be easy,” he added.

I kept my silence. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say.

He already knew why this marriage had happened. Before the engagement was announced, my parents had disclosed the truth to the Ashcrofts.

The Estia’s witch heiress had lost her magic due to an accident.

They claimed a man working on the estate had entered a restricted part of the house and touched me against my will. Somehow, according to them, his contact had corrupted the divine magic I was supposed to inherit, because the witch goddess Veyra was known for having divine powers due to her purity, and that her heir must remain pure until the age of twenty.

I had barely known the man. He was a gardener of the western grounds. I knew only that he had a wife and two young daughters. 

By morning, he was dead. When my parents could no longer hide my situation, they needed an explanation for my failure, and he had been convenient.

Now everyone believed I was being married off because I had become unworthy of ruling Estia’s lands.

I had not chosen to be born without spellcraft. I had not asked my parents to build an entire lie around me. Still, it didn’t change the fact that an innocent man had died so they could protect that lie.

Pierce set his glass aside then he walked toward me until he stopped only a foot away.

He was even taller than I'd realized during the ceremony. Broad shoulders filled the space between us, and there was an undeniable intensity about him. Even though he wasn't named as the Alpha’s successor, he carried himself like someone born to lead.

"If you don't mind satisfying my curiosity..."

His voice softened.

"Did you really lose your magic..."

He tilted his head ever so slightly.

"...or did you never have it to begin with?"

My breath caught.

A subtle smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was watching me as though he was studying every flicker of emotion that crossed my face.

Growing up isolated within the estate had left me hopelessly inexperienced when it came to conversations like this. Even the household staff had always spoken to me with careful distance, as though I might shatter if they said the wrong thing.

For a moment, I was at a loss for words.

From the moment I was born, everyone believed I had been chosen for something extraordinary.

A silver mark shaped like a crescent flame curved beneath my left collarbone, the sacred symbol of Veyra, the goddess from whom the Estia witches claimed their magic. No child bearing her mark had been born in nearly four hundred years.

My birth was announced throughout Estia’s lands before my mother had even recovered. Bells rang from every temple. Celebrations filled the city, while many gathered outside its gates, hoping for a glimpse of the infant they had already begun calling their blessed princess.

None of them knew the truth.

Three days after I was born, the clan’s High Priestess performed the traditional examination of my magic. My parents expected her to confirm that I possessed an extraordinary affinity for elemental spells, healing enchantments, or perhaps even divine magic.

Instead, they discovered that I could not cast spells at all.

I could only create curses.

Among witches, spellcraft was considered a sacred gift. It allowed them to heal wounds, summon protective barriers, manipulate the elements, and weave enchantments into objects.

Curses were different.

They were born from darker magic, the kind that weakened bodies, corrupted minds, ruined bloodlines, and destroyed lives. A witch who could wield curses but not spells was believed to have been tainted before birth.

Most curse-born children were taken from their families and imprisoned beneath the clan’s correction facilities. Officially, they were confined for the protection of everyone living in Estia’s lands.

Unofficially, few of them were ever seen again.

Had I been born into any other family, I would have disappeared before I was old enough to remember my mother’s face.

But I was a Holt.

My family had ruled the Estia clan for generations. There had never been an heir in our recorded history who failed to inherit traditional spellcraft. If the truth about me became public, the council might have questioned my father’s right to rule. Rival families would have accused our bloodline of corruption, and every alliance built by my ancestors could have collapsed overnight.

So my parents hid me.

They did not announce that their precious daughter was defective. Instead, they told the clan that the power inside me was too sacred to be exposed before it had fully awakened.

According to the story they created, Veyra’s mark had transformed my body into a vessel for divine magic. Until I reached adulthood, I was to remain untouched by outsiders and protected from the influence of men. Even accidental contact, they claimed, could interfere with the awakening of my divine powers.

The lie worked better than they could have imagined.

I became a sacred figure without ever appearing in public.

My childhood was spent inside the Holt family compound, a sprawling estate surrounded by steel gates, armed guards, and enough magical wards to repel a small army.

I was not allowed to attend school with the other children of the clan. Private tutors were brought to the estate, though they were forbidden from entering the same room as me. Most of my lessons took place through enchanted glass or calls monitored by my mother.

I was never permitted to leave the inner grounds.

Even the gardens surrounding the main residence were considered too exposed. Male employees were ordered to remain out of sight, while female servants lowered their eyes whenever I passed.

To the people living across Estia’s lands, I was a living goddess.

For years, I believed them.

As a child, I thought there had to be a reason for my isolation. I imagined that one day, the power sleeping inside me would awaken. The gates would open, my parents would finally look at me with pride, and I would become the person everyone expected me to be.

But children eventually learned the difference between protection and imprisonment.

My parents had not hidden me because I was sacred.

They had hidden me because they were ashamed.

I was not the goddess-blessed heir described in the stories. I was curse-born.

A flaw in an otherwise perfect bloodline. And to my family, I had always been less of a daughter than a secret that needed to remain buried.

Staring at Pierce Ashcroft who still stood in front of me, my mother's voice echoed inside my head.

Protect this marriage.

Protect the Estia Clan.

I straightened my shoulders and forced myself to meet his eyes.

"Mr. Ashcroft..."

My voice came out steadier than I expected.

"Are you suggesting that I've deceived both my clan... and your family?"