Who Wrote 'The Cursed'?

Feeling cursed is hard to shake off, isn’t it? I sometimes think about it after binge-watching 'Death Note'—the weight of the decisions those characters make. It’s like you're stuck in a spiral of bad luck with no way out. Sometimes I find that after facing tough times, it’s about perspective. Any situation can feel cursed if we keep dwelling on it. Finding something uplifting to distract myself, like an episode of 'My Hero Academia,' often helps shift that vibe.

The prince in 'The Cursed Prince' was cursed by the Witch of the Black Hollow, a figure shrouded in legends so dark even the bravest knights avoid whispering her name. She’s not your typical villain—there’s this tragic backstory where the prince’s ancestors betrayed her centuries ago, and the curse was her retaliation. The way the story unfolds makes you almost sympathize with her. She didn’t just slap a generic spell on him; it’s intricately tied to his family’s sins. Every full moon, he transforms into this monstrous shadow beast, and the kicker? The curse feeds off his kindness. The more he tries to do good, the stronger the beast becomes. It’s a brutal irony that the Witch designed to mirror how his forefathers exploited her compassion. The curse isn’t just physical either. It messes with his memories, erasing fragments of his past whenever the beast takes over. There’s this haunting scene where he finds letters he wrote to himself, only to realize he doesn’t remember writing them. The Witch’s magic is deeply psychological, which makes her one of the most compelling antagonists I’ve seen. She didn’t want a quick revenge; she wanted the prince to unravel slowly, to feel the weight of generations of guilt. And the way she ties the curse’s breaking condition to something nearly impossible—finding someone who’d willingly take his place—shows how calculated her cruelty was. It’s not just about suffering; it’s about hopelessness. The Witch’s character makes you question who the real monster is, and that’s what elevates 'The Cursed Prince' from a simple fairy tale to something way more profound.

I’ve been obsessed with 'The Cursed' since it dropped, and the sequel rumors are wild. Officially, nothing’s confirmed, but the author’s cryptic tweets hint at a follow-up. The last book left so many threads dangling—like the unresolved curse mark on the protagonist’s hand and that shadowy figure in the epilogue. Fan theories suggest it’ll explore the ancient coven’s origins, maybe even a time jump. The publisher’s silence is suspicious, though. They’re usually quick to shut down false leaks, but this time? Radio quiet. Some fans dug up trademark filings for 'The Cursed: Reborn,' but until there’s a cover reveal, it’s all speculation. I’m betting on an announcement by next Halloween—perfect timing for a cursed sequel.

Its the tragic tale of Medusa, taken from Greek lore. Medusa had been a beautiful girl who served as a priestess for Athena in her temple. It was thought that in Athena's temple, Medusa was seduced by the 'dolphin-greenbearer'-- god of sea. This act of sacrilege gave rise to the wrath of Athena, who then turned strange life to a monstrous creature suffused with snakes each 7 ft long, and eyes that turned every creature into stone. It was a very tough penalty indeed: this was the side of divine being, unyielding and vengeul. Despite the monster she became, some see Medusa as yet another story of blaming the victim--as if it would remind human beings how human nature is always to blame wrong people for what others do wrong.

In 'The Cursed', the protagonist is Vincent Cross, a former detective haunted by a supernatural curse. His life spirals when he discovers he’s the last descendant of a witch-hunting lineage, bound to a demonic pact. Vincent’s gritty resilience makes him compelling—he’s not a typical hero but a flawed survivor. His curse grants eerie visions of impending deaths, which he uses to solve crimes, blurring the line between justice and obsession. The story thrives on his internal conflict: embracing his dark gifts to protect others while fearing he’s becoming a monster himself. Supporting characters like his estranged sister, a skeptical journalist, and a cryptic occultist deepen his journey. Vincent’s raw humanity amid supernatural chaos sets 'The Cursed' apart, making him unforgettable.

The ending of 'The Cursed' is a haunting blend of tragedy and poetic justice. The protagonist, after enduring relentless torment from the curse, finally uncovers its origin—a vengeful spirit tied to an ancient betrayal. In a climactic ritual under a blood moon, they choose sacrifice over survival, breaking the curse by offering their own life. The spirit is appeased, vanishing with a whisper of gratitude, while the village wakes to a dawn free of shadows for the first time in centuries. The final scenes show the protagonist’s diary being found by a curious child, hinting at cyclical legends. The curse’s legacy lingers not as a threat but as a cautionary tale, etched into the land’s memory. Bittersweet and open-ended, it suggests that some stories never truly die—they just wait to be rediscovered.

Fiona's curse stems from a classic fairy tale twist. She was cursed when she was just a child because of a witch's vengeance. It was meant to be a blessing and a curse, as she could only find true love during a specific time. The tragic part is that she struggled with her identity, which made the whole journey even more poignant. As she grew, Fiona learned that the curse was also a lesson about self-acceptance and inner beauty. It really encapsulates the trope of physical transformation reflecting personal growth. I found her story so compelling; it’s relatable to anyone trying to embrace their true selves.

In 'MHA Cursed by Fate', Izuku's cursed fate is a haunting duality—his relentless drive to become a hero is shadowed by a power that corrupts as it empowers. The 'Fateweaver' quirk grants him glimpses of possible futures, but each vision fractures his mind, eroding his sanity like a ticking clock. He sees allies fall in countless ways, yet intervening often worsens the outcome. The quirk feeds on his despair, amplifying his emotions into uncontrollable bursts of energy that ravage his body. What makes his fate truly tragic is the isolation. His classmates fear his predictions, dreading the moment he locks eyes with them and murmurs their potential doom. All Might’s legacy weighs heavier than ever, as Izuku struggles to reconcile saving others with the collateral damage his power inflicts. The curse isn’t just physical—it’s the unbearable weight of knowing too much, yet being helpless to change the inevitable. The story twists heroism into a Pyrrhic victory, where every step forward leaves him more broken.