All Chapters of Shifter Deathbound Curse : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Cold...That was the first thing Siron felt. A cold that didn't stem from temperature, but from the absence of life itself, creeping from his gripped ankle, spreading through his body like poison.“Ron!” Kit shouted, his voice panicked.Siron screamed, trying to pull his leg free. The hand, made of shadow and thick black smoke, felt solid and strong, clutching tightly. Every tug only tightened the grip, piercing down to the bone. From the tips of the smoky fingers, he could feel, hunger. A vacant, primal desire to consume everything alive.Siron’s mother rushed forward, stepping on the shards of her destroyed pendant. “Let go of my son!” she cried, but she hesitated, having no defense left to approach.Morat, who had seemed shaken earlier, now stood tall. His red eyes glowed with a new intensity, yet it wasn’t anger Siron saw in them, but… recognition. A familiarity.“That is the Altar Keeper,” Morat growled, his voice humming like distant thunder. “My curse woke it. Our blood merged

The night air, which should have been refreshing, felt like a thin mask covering the turmoil within Siron. He stood rooted in front of the locked temple door, hearing the echo of Morat’s roar slowly fade, replaced by the sigh of the night wind. The roar was no longer pure terror; there was a sense of triumph in it, a claim that made Siron’s heart beat erratically.“Ron, let’s get out of here,” Kit pleaded, his voice still shaky. He reached for Siron’s arm, his touch warm, real, a stark contrast to the coldness of the shadow’s grip earlier.Siron’s mother immediately took charge, her face pale but resolute. “To the car. Now.” She pulled Siron, who was still dazed, forcing him to walk down the temple’s stone steps toward the empty parking lot.The drive home was held in thick silence. Kit, who was driving, occasionally glanced at Siron through the rearview mirror, his eyes full of concern. Siron’s mother sat beside Siron in the back, her hand tightly gripping her son’s, as if afraid he

"You alright, Ron? Your voice sounds terrifying."Kit's voice on the phone sounded distant, as if filtered through a thick pane of glass. Siron stood in the middle of the living room, his left hand gripping the phone tightly, while his right hand unconsciously patted his shirt pocket, feeling the hard, cold shape of the black flower inside."I... I'm fine, Kit. Just woke up. Still a bit sleepy," Siron lied, trying to make his voice sound normal. Every word felt false on his tongue."Okay, I was a little worried. It was quiet last night, right? Nothing... happened?" Kit asked, his voice low and loaded with meaning.For Kit's sake. For the sake of normalcy. "No. Nothing happened. I just slept soundly." The lie burned his throat. The flower in his pocket felt heavier, as if rebuking his denial.They talked a little longer about tomorrow's campus schedule before finally hanging up. As his phone went dead, the silence of the apartment swallowed Siron whole again. But this time, the silence

Time seemed to stop. The scream shattered the spell that had enveloped Siron. He turned so fast the world spun. In the distance, in front of the faculty building that should have been deserted, Kit's body lay motionless at the bottom of the concrete stairs, a broken, unnatural shape."KIT!"Siron's own cry echoed, filling his head, which was suddenly incredibly light. All of Morat's pull instantly vanished, replaced by a gut-wrenching panic. He ran. Why was Kit still here? He should have left for his part-time job at the café across campus! The thought flashed quickly, drowning in the adrenaline-fueled urge to reach his friend.When he arrived, a few people had already gathered. A woman was screaming, calling for an ambulance. Siron dropped to his knees beside Kit, his hands shaking uncontrollably."He... he slipped on the top step. Just fell and tumbled down," a female student said, her voice trembling.Siron saw a blue folder scattered near Kit, a folder he recognized. It was Kit's

Cold.Not the bone-chilling cold of Morat, but a foul, wet cold, like dead flesh submerged in water for weeks. The oily black liquid circled Siron’s ankle with a deadly grip, pulling him down. Siron screamed, clutching the sink to hold himself up. It felt like dozens of tiny needles piercing his skin, injecting pure despair into his bloodstream."Morat!" he yelled, without thinking, calling out for the only entity that might fight this off.The bathroom door exploded open before his name was fully uttered. The wood shattered, and Morat stood in the doorway, his form solid and vibrating with pure fury. His red eyes blazed like coals, illuminating the steam with an infernal light."HOW DARE YOU!" his roar shook the walls. He didn't walk; he lunged, his shadowy hands reaching like claws.The black fluid hissed, as if afraid, but did not let go. Instead, it crawled higher, coiling around Siron’s calf. The pain intensified.Morat grabbed Siron’s ankle just above the black grip. His touch b