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Chapter Twenty Three: A Name from the Grave
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2025-12-08 00:55:28
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The Cursed Heiress Chapter Twenty Five: Lesiana’s Shadow
POV: Iris “Again,” the Beta barked.I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my chest heaving. My arms shook, my knees burned, but I forced myself upright.“Again,” he repeated, stepping forward, impatience dripping from every word.My wolf growled in the back of my mind. You’re weak. They’ll see it if you falter now.“I said again!”I lunged, but too slowly. His palm cracked across my face, the sound ringing sharp. Pain exploded across my cheek that made me stagger back, clutching my skin, heat burning beneath it.The laughter followed—snickers from the edges of the ring. “She can’t keep up,” one of them muttered. “Beta in name, nothing more.”Humiliation coiled in my stomach like a viper. I bit down hard, blood flooding my mouth, and straightened. “Again,” I whispered.The slap had rattled me, but not enough to stop.My wolf snarled louder. Fight back. Tear him down. Make them bleed.“I can’t,” I muttered under my breath. “If I lose control, they’ll see me. They’ll know.”He came at me
The Cursed Heiress Chapter Twenty Five: The Letter That Shouldn’t Exist
POV: Iris The letter shook in my hands. Not because of the wind, not because of weakness—because my body couldn’t stop trembling. My wolf whined in the back of my mind, restless, agitated, but I shoved her voice aside.I shouldn’t even open it. I should tear it, burn it, crush it to ash and scatter it into the night. But my fingers betrayed me, unfolding the parchment as if they belonged to someone else.And then I saw it.My handwriting.The same loops. The same slight slant to the right. The same way the “y” curled too low because my wrist always shook when I was nervous.It was mine. Lyra Sterling’s.I gasped, clutching the paper like it was a blade pressed against my palm. “No… no, this is a trick. A sick trick…”But the words dragged me in.“If you are reading this, then you did not vanish. Not entirely. And that means there is still work for you to do.”I froze. My knees gave way, and I collapsed onto the floor. The letter slipped, but I snatched it up again, greedy, terrified,
The Cursed Heiress Chapter Twenty Three: A Name from the Grave
POV: Iris “Lyra.”The name hung in the air like a blade, cutting deeper with every second of silence that followed. My lungs squeezed as though invisible fingers were wrapped around them, and my throat burned with words I couldn’t speak.I forced a breath. One. Then another. Then I shook my head, fast, too fast, as though shaking hard enough would rattle the word out of existence.“You’re wrong,” I said. My voice cracked, betraying me. “I don’t know who that is.”He smiled. Not kindly. Not even cruelly but knowingly, which made it worse.“Of course you know,” he murmured. “I can see it in your eyes. When I said her name, it tore you apart inside. You can deny it all you want, but your body knows the truth, even if your lips won’t admit it.”My fists clenched at my sides. My nails dug crescent wounds into my palms. “I said you’re wrong. My name is Iris. Beta of Oakwood and nothing more.”“Nothing more?” he echoed, tilting his head. “That’s what you believe in and what you’ve built for
The Cursed Heiress Chapter Twenty Two: The Stranger’s Eyes
POV: Iris Some gazes feel like knives. His felt like recognition.I felt it before I saw him—the weight of it pressing against my spine as though invisible fingers were dragging me backward through the dirt. I turned, slow, hesitant, the pit of my stomach tightening like a noose, and there he was. A man I had never spoken to before, standing among the warriors, his posture loose but his eyes sharp, cutting right through me as if my skin wasn’t enough of a disguise.I swallowed hard.His eyes didn’t move when I looked back. They held me the way fire holds dry wood—consuming, measuring, daring me to resist.sI broke first.“Why are you staring at me?” The words cracked out of me, harsher than I intended. My voice betrayed the tremor in my chest.“And what eyes did you use in seeing me.” He said with a warm smile on his lips. “Iris, stop this hard you’re trying to play out here.”“Just don’t think you can get me in with those words.” “Again, I ask, why are you staring at me?”“But wait,
The Cursed Heiress Chapter Twenty One: The price must be paid
POV: IrisThe presence did not judge my fear. It simply stated a fact. “To bind power you must bind something in return. There are many things you might place on the altar—time, sight, memory, name—but whatever you give becomes the tether. It will hold what you gain, and it will mark you.”I tasted panic. The list of possible losses unrolled in my head with cruel precision. Losing memory—what a betrayal that sounded like. To forget the sound of my mother’s humming at night, to let the face of my father fade into smudged lines. To have the soft things taken seemed worse than the physical blows. But what would be worse would be to keep them as anchors while I tried to move like a weapon.“They want a price,” I said, voice thin. I thought of my mother’s lullaby, of the small room and the way warmth felt pure and simple. “They want me to sell what is left so they can give me something to cut with.”“Not so crass,” the voice said, and I understood it was not interest in my sentimentality b
The Cursed Heiress Chapter Twenty: Oath of Vengeance
POV: Iris My hands were flat against the hard earth. I could feel the tremor in them like a living thing—my hands that had been held, shoved, struck. The tremor was not just from exhaustion; it was the aftermath of being taken apart and put back together by other people's cruelty. I let the tremor run. I let it remind me who I had been and what had been done to me.I breathed in, slow and shallow. The air filled my lungs and burned the way truth does when it wakes you up from a safer, stupid sleep. I said the words out loud because if I only told myself the vow it might be a secret that quietly died. If I shouted it at the moon, maybe the world would have to answer for the promise I made in my own throat.“I swear,” I said—first soft, then louder—“I swear I will not be broken into pieces for someone else’s comfort ever again.”My voice shook in the dark. I did not know whether the shaking came from cold, from fear, or from the rounding, raw ache that had lived under my ribs since the
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