All Chapters of Shifter Deathbound Curse : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The phone slipped from Siron’s hand. Her mother’s possessed voice still echoed: “Your great-grandfather wants to meet.” “Siron.” Morat’s voice cut through her spiral of panic. She turned around. Morat stood there in his handsome form, but now he felt more real, connected directly to Siron’s mind through a silver thread she could just barely feel in her chest. She could sense Morat’s rage toward Alaric, his possessiveness, and a trace of warmth directed at her. “That wasn’t your mother,” Morat growled, stepping closer. “It was Alaric’s bait. He is trying to separate us.” Us. The word echoed within their new bond. Siron looked around her ruined apartment. She could feel every speck of dust, every shard of glass, and Morat’s presence filling the space. “What do we do?” asked Siron, surprised by how easily the word ‘we’ had slipped out. Morat grasped her arm; his touch was warm and strong. “We rise. Together.” He pulled Siron to her feet. Her vision flickered. She saw another layer

Morat’s cold claw on her shoulder made Siron stiffen. But that wasn’t the only touch she felt. Around her ankles, something else, thinner, slicker, like ropes made of solid darkness, was winding tightly. She looked down. Those shadow hands, not fully human in form but more like tendrils radiating from the blackened marble floor, had ensnared her.“Alaric!” Morat growled behind her, his voice seething with hate. “He is exploiting my weakness!”The golden light from the temple walls still trembled around Siron, not attacking her directly but not retreating either. Priest Gideon looked confused, his prayer momentarily halted, his eyes wide as he stared at the shadow hands emerging from his own temple floor.“This… is impossible,” the old priest mumbled. “The temple is protected!”“Not from her own blood,” Morat snarled. His voice sounded strained, pained. His claw’s grip on Siron’s shoulder weakened. The holy light, though blocked by Siron, was still affecting him. “Alaric is your ancest

The map burned into Siron’s field of vision faded after a few seconds, but the image remained perfectly etched in her memory. It wasn’t an ordinary map. It felt like a forced memory: the dusty road toward her childhood village, a sharp turn onto an old path nearly reclaimed by thickets, and a location deep within a wilderness she had never even explored as a child, marked with an "X" that pulsed with a faint golden light."You’re seeing something," Morat said beside her; it wasn't a question. Through the bond, he could feel the surge of visual information flooding Siron."A map. Alaric gave it to me. Or... something from inside that bundle." Siron touched the pocket where the energy ball was stored. The object was quiet now, as cold as a stone.Priest Gideon and the young woman remained in the Chamber of Reflection, watching their departure in silence. The old priest’s voice finally broke the quiet of the temple corridors. "Siron! If you step out with that reliquary and.

“Siron!” Kit cried out, his face a turbulent mix of relief and anxiety. Behind him, three temple members in brown robes approached with somber expressions. Their gazes were sharp, fixed on Siron and her surroundings, though they remained blind to Morat.Siron’s first instinct was to run. But her feet felt rooted to the spot. Seeing Kit with his arm in a cast, the memory of how her friend had been mangled because of her struggle, filled her with a crushing sense of guilt.Morat hissed in her ear, his voice for her alone. “It’s a trap. They are using your friend as bait.”“He wouldn’t do that,” Siron retorted through her thoughts, certain.“Look at his eyes. He’s afraid. Not of you, but of what is with you.”Indeed, Kit’s gaze wasn't entirely on Siron. His eyes swept the air around her as if trying to catch an invisible shadow. “Siron, you have to go with them. They said they can help you. I… I asked them to find you. After what happened at the apartment, I couldn'

The pattern of light on the tunnel walls pulsed slowly, like a living organism. Threads of blue and pink intertwined, forming ancient symbols identical to those Siron had seen in Alaric’s cave and in her own dreams. The surrounding air felt static, thick with a spiritual pressure so heavy it was almost tangible.“This is… the place,” Morat whispered, his voice trembling. For the first time, Siron heard genuine fear in his tone. “This is where they broke me.”Kit, standing close behind Siron, pressed in. “What is this? Why does it feel so… weird?”“Residual ritual energy,” Siron answered, trying to control her breathing. Through the bond, she could feel a searing ache radiating from Morat, like an old wound being torn open. “We have to get past it.”“We can’t,” Morat said suddenly. “This circle is still active. It will pull at any fragment of my soul that draws near. And…” he paused, continuing in a lower voice, “...it will pull at what remains of Lyra, too.”Siro