Chapter 1: The Exile’s Descendant Curse

“Absolutely not, Mom! I’m not going back to that temple!”

Siron leaned his back against the wall of his quiet apartment, trying to make his voice sound firm even though his heart was pounding. The phone conversation with his parents had been going on for twenty minutes, and the core message was always the same: a protective ritual at the family temple.

“Don’t be stubborn, Ron! You know this is important” his mother’s voice trembled with worry on the other end.

“What’s important? Doing strange things to ward off a ‘curse’ from a ‘shifter’ who died thousands of years ago?” Siron cut in, his voice filled with his typical sarcastic drawl. “Morat? That’s just a character from a bedtime story. I’m an adult; I don’t believe in that stuff.”

He let out a long sigh, his eyes gazing at the blank ceiling of his apartment. “Besides, I’m busy. College has started. I need to prepare.”

“I don’t want you staying alone overnight in that apartment” this time, his father’s voice took over, heavy with a pointless authority.

“And I don’t want to live in fear of something that isn’t real,” Siron countered, this time more gently. “I’m fine. Promise. Morat isn’t going to come and scratch at my door.”

He could hear a sigh of resignation from the other side. After a few false promises to call back and maintain a healthy diet, Siron finally hung up. Silence returned to the room. He glanced at the wall clock. It was almost nine in the evening.

“A curse,” he muttered, shaking his head, walking to his small kitchen to grab a bottle of mineral water. “If the curse really existed, maybe he could help me with my data analysis assignment.”

Siron chuckled to himself. Humor was his shield, always had been. Since childhood, he had been raised in fear of a Morat, a vengeful spirit betrayed by their royal ancestor, who swore to hunt every male descendant of their bloodline. But to Siron, it was all nonsense. He lived in the modern age, in GreenDolt, a city that, though steeped in legend, still functioned normally. There was no place for ghosts or shapeshifters in his life.

He gulped down the water, trying to banish the lingering unease from the conversation. His simple apartment suddenly felt… quieter than usual. Typically, the sound of vehicles from the street below could still be heard faintly, but this time, there was only an ear-piercing silence.

Siron ignored it. It must be just suggestion because of the conversation.

He decided to take a warm shower before bed, hoping to wash all the nonsense about the curse out of his mind. The air in the small corridor leading to the bathroom felt colder, prickling the skin on his arms. He rubbed his arms, again blaming the sometimes-faulty ventilation system.

The bathroom door was closed. He twisted the handle and pushed.

From beyond the rising warm steam, behind the shower glass that was starting to fog up, a tall shadow and an unnatural shape.

Siron stopped at the threshold, his breath caught.

It wasn't his shadow. The shape was too large, too… horned.

With his heart hammering, his trembling hand reached for a towel on the rack, not daring to take his eyes off the fogged glass. He had to clear the glass. He had to be sure.

He stepped inside, his cold fingertips touching the damp surface of the glass. Quickly, he wiped away the mist, clearing an area the width of his palm.

And through the clear glass, reflected not only was his own pale, terrified face, but also a dark figure with glowing red eyes, standing upright right behind him, as if it had been there all along.

He spun around, the towel falling, but there was nothing there. Only steam and silence. He was breathing raggedly. Suggestion. It must be just suggestion.

He turned back to face the mirror, trying to calm himself. His face was still pale behind the glass, which was re-fogging. But this time, something else appeared. A scratch formed on its own on the wet surface of the glass, as if written by an unseen finger, forming a single word:

SIAN.

And before his brain could process it, from behind the thick fog, a large, sharp-clawed black paw suddenly appeared, slamming against the shower glass in front of him…