Curse Of The Blackened Eye Novels & Stories

His voice was guttural, distorted by the black ink rising in his throat. "Jack?" Marcus stopped, turning around. He saw Jack’s eyes. They weren't blue anymore. The sclera had turned black. The irises were glowing with a feral, violet light. "Boss, your neck," Marcus warned, stepping back. Thick, black tendrils were crawling up the side of Jack’s neck, reaching for his jawline. "Die!" Jack roared. He launched himself at Marcus. He moved with supernatural speed, the Curse enhancing his musculature. He didn't use the machete. He dropped it. He used his hands.

His eyes flashed black for an instant, his control slipping, his humanity fading into something darker. The curse had its hold on him. She could see it, the dark veins of power running beneath his skin, twisting and turning as if alive. It was the same curse that had torn apart his soul, the one that made him both a monster and a man. It was something she could feel, taste even, as if it had been embedded in the very air they breathed.

Let teeth fall out, and hair turn white, Let fever burn them every night. Their minds shall fade, their eyes grow blind, No peace, no joy, no rest to find. Their cries will echo in the dark, As shadows leave a lasting mark. They'll beg for help, they'll scream in vain, But nothing stops the rising pain. This curse I send, it shall not miss, My blood, my voice, I seal with this." As he finished the chant, Bruce threw a pinch of dark powder into the flame of the nearest candle. The flame turned black for a moment, and a low hiss echoed through the attic.

Shadows flicker red beneath my door now, dancing like cruel spirits. “Run!” The word echoes in my skull. The door bursts inward in a spray of sparks and splintered wood. Flames roar behind a towering silhouette. A man steps through the fire. I cannot see his face — only the outline of him carved in burning light. And his eyes. They glow. Not with reflection. With power. The world fractures into red and gold. Heat devours everything. The scream tears from my throat— I wake choking on smoke that isn’t there. My room is dark. Quiet. Whole.

Blakely A curse so deadly, bestowed to thee. Has turned thou into a living key. Await the gods, who claim thy soul. Break the curse & fulfill thy role. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I stared down at the sea of glittering crimson, trying to process the fact that it wasn’t my blood that stained my hands and clothes, but that of my Alpha’s. My mate. Its metallic scent permeated the air, mingling with that of vomit. Staring into my eyes, I watched the scene unfold again and again. The events that led to this very moment. The mistakes I’d made that turned me into this.

“Let me see if there’s any magic in her.” A woman straddled Thea and leaned over her face. Her eyes were black—not just the irises like when a wolf has control of its human’s body. The entire eye was black, even the sclera. It was so disturbing and mesmerizing Thea almost missed the dark personage superimposed over the woman. It was leaning toward Thea, looking at her hungrily.

I gesture to Sunny, and he darts out of the room. “The person carrying the curse is the problem,” she continues. “I’m assuming the energy or spirit in that curse is what’s been looming over the pack.” “You mean to say… Black kissed White?” Elder Lucas’s voice trembles, eyes narrowed in horror. “Exactly.” She nods. “Black kissed White.” That phrase has been used for centuries to cast out witches, sorcerers, and the accursed, which means when darkness touches purity, the whole color changes. But who could it be? How could someone accursed be among us? My mind is filled with questions and I'm more confused than I’ve ever been.

I went still. Cold clarity swallowed me whole. Rage—not mine—rose from deep inside. A presence older than Elara. Darker. The Curse. Miguma. I surrendered. My eyes opened underwater. They were no longer honey brown. They were pitch black. The sky above cracked open with thunder. Lightening tore across the desert— And rain—impossible, slicing rain—fell like shards of glass. Melody jerked back from the waters edge, eyes wide. “What—what’s that?!”

“I went to the ruins. To what’s left of the Blackmoor estate.” I waited, breath shallow. “And I found Malric there. My uncle.” The name landed like a blade between us. Malric Blackmoor. Exiled. Twisted by dark blood magic. One of the first wolves to willingly embrace the curse rather than fight it. “He told me the curse isn’t what we thought,” Silas continued. “It’s not just some ancient magic passed down to punish a bloodline. It’s alive. A force. A consciousness.” My chest tightened. “Like a spirit?”