Curse Of The Blackened Eye Novels & Stories

“I’m…. throwing you out of me..?” “Yeah.” I feel bad. Oo nga ‘no? I always had the thought of my ability to be a curse, na isang sagabal sa buhay ko. But I never had the thought that it was helpful to me. Nung mga panahong ginagamit ko ito. “Woah! Well, this is a first.” I looked at him and saw that his eyes were already visible. Mas lalong lumaki ang mata ko. His eyes were jet-black eyes, na akala mo’y black hole na hinihigop ang pagkatao mo.

The badge was real, one of many we have stolen from O’Hanian over the years. “Alright, alright, I owe him nothing. It was the Dog Star bastard.” I hear the woman spit on the ground as though clearing her mouth of the foul-tasting name. “The who?” Vulk asks. “Holy shit,” I say through the door, “I was right. The guy with the glasses is a cockatrice. That explains everything.” “A what?” Vulk probed, stepping outside. “A Cockatrice. It kills you with a glance. A Basilisk!” “No kidding?”

, mumbled the man in black T-shirt. The witch laughed at them. She enjoyed watching all her victims who looked horrified. One by one, she took all their eye balls. She shewed it like a gum. She loved the taste of those eyes. For her, the eyes were the window of each soul. Without those eyes. A person would possibly not do any harm to other people. To her, the lust of the eye was the greatest sin of all.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against Kael’s chest, against the darkness that writhed and pulsed beneath his skin like living smoke. “Kael,” she whispered, her voice cracked and soft, “you have to let me in.” But he didn’t hear her. The curse was consuming him—his veins black, his eyes burning with the color of spilled ink. The monster she had once feared now wore the face she loved most. “Get away!” he roared, his voice echoing through the broken hall. “I can’t—control—it!” He slammed his fist into the marble floor, the force cracking it like glass. Shadows rippled outward, coiling like serpents, tearing through the corpses of soldiers who’d dared to stay behind.

“It worked but something still binds him.” Maribel didn’t hesitate. He pressed a hand to Milo’s chest, closing his eyes. A soft golden glow spread beneath his palm, pulsing faintly. His expression tightened. “There’s something inside him,” he said, his tone low, almost growling. “Something dark, lingering near the heart.” Rowan’s jaw clenched. “The curse.” Merek nodded grimly. “The remnants of the black magic that took root during the attack. It’s fighting to hold.”

"Eye! His eyes turned to dark black eyes!" "Right. That's the problem. This curse was mixed with demons blood. I don't know how that person can defeat the demons who are clearly of a higher rank compared to the other demons." "Wait a moment. You call that demon in the plural form as if it wasn't just one demon." "Because it's not!" Daniel growled in annoyance. "His blood contains a mixture of the blood of elves and several demons from my kingdom. Looks like I'm starting to understand how this game works, and I don't like that."

Standing at the very front was their general—a towering, muscular man whose left eye socket was nothing but an empty abyss of darkness. Rumors claimed he had sacrificed his left eye to master a forbidden dark art known as the Eye of Terror. An eye technique capable of striking unbearable fear into the hearts of its victims, dragging their souls into an endless illusion where they remained imprisoned for eternity while their soul essence nourished its wielder, making him stronger with every life consumed. “Look who we have here…” “The almighty young Lycan Lord.” He laughed loudly, exposing dark fangs that barely fit beneath his lips.

Caleb’s shadow wolf manifested behind him, a terrifying silent roar halting the crowd in their tracks. Suddenly, the black veins recoiled, dissolving into a foul-smelling gray mist that evaporated into the cold air. The pup’s breathing evened out, his gray skin flushing with a healthy, pink glow. He opened his eyes—clear, bright amber—and let out a tiny, hungry yelp. The silence that followed was absolute. Elder Martha gasped, dropping to her knees to check the child. "The curse... it is gone. In all my years, I have never seen such a swift cleansing."

And Thalen… Thalen’s presence was like wildfire, intoxicating, consuming, dangerous. A sudden rustle drew their attention. From the shadows, another creature emerged, larger than the ones before, twisted and corrupted, with fur blackened like burned ash and eyes like molten gold. It was not a Feral she had ever seen a creature born of ancient corruption, the dark remnants of Nightbrae’s oldest curses.

"Your powers are unlike anything this family has produced in three generations. I have seen what you can do when you are pushed. You cleared out an entire wing of soldiers the night the eastern border was breached. You were seventeen years old." "I know what I did," I said. "Then you know what you are capable of." He picked up his fork again. "We are running out of time, Seraphine. Destroying the Ashfords may be the only real chance we have to break this curse completely. The longer it sits on this bloodline, the worse it gets. You know that." I didn't say anything. "Sienna doesn't have much time," he said. "You know that too." The candlelight flickered.