Cursed Cookie Run Images Novels & Stories

"Sleep more. I'll go prepare some broth for you." She slipped away, but as soon as I closed my eyes, the darkness wasn't empty. It was a frantic, strobe light mess of images that felt like they were being branded onto the back of my eyelids. Kill him. Remember us. Me and you...Kill him. As the words burned deep into my head, a man's face flickered into view- white hair, black eyes and a scar that looked like a jagged lightning bolt. Zephyr. The name tasted like copper in mouth. I gasped, bolting upright as if I'd been shocked by electricity.

"Explain this, Erin." Erin approached Uncle Malcolm, curiosity etched on his face. "What brought you here, Uncle? Your journey must have been long and arduous." Uncle Malcolm's gaze drifted to Lyrien, his expression disdainful. "Bastard," he muttered, his voice laced with contempt. "What is he doing here?" Erin's eyes locked onto Aria, visible through the glass enclosure. "Is the girl inside the glass the Cursed Wolf that has all of Beacon City talking?" he asked, his voice tinged with fascination.

A freak accident that left me completely alone in the world. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder. Were they werewolves too? Had they known this would happen to me? Alaric said the curse didn’t activate unless you killed someone. If they were werewolves, had they never triggered the curse? Or was it something else entirely? I glanced at the window, where the light of the setting sun was fading, giving way to the night. The full moon was coming. I could feel it—a strange hum at the back of my mind, growing stronger with each passing moment.

It wasn't like I hadn't tried telling my family about the curse. A month ago, the pack witch, Alina Lopez, told me that the curse was extremely deadly, with no way of lifting it. I would be coughing up blood and dying in a month. The first thing I did was to return home to see my family. As soon as I walked in, I saw my older brother, Kent Greene, happily holding up a beautiful new dress against Natali Fisher. "Dad, Mom, look at the dress Kent bought for me—isn't it beautiful?" Natali twirled around with the dress and looked over to Mom and Dad.

Antonio's gaze lingered on him as he retreated, his footsteps becoming fuzzier. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he strolled down the corridor hesitantly. His scrutinizing gaze swept around and he came to halt when he saw a figure in the last room. – the attic. His eyes narrowed, his face filled with anticipation as he drew nearer. And that was when he saw him. The young, beautiful champ. Marco. The son of his enemy Antonio's footsteps faltered, and his eyes sparked with a hint of desire as Marco's stunning body came into view.

The world outside looked like a cottage core dream. Selena turned around and grimaced. The shrine—her cursed assignment—was still gloomier than a tax office, with thunderclouds coiling ominously above it like it had committed several felonies. And the worst part? The storm was exclusive. It hovered only above the shrine, like nature itself had obvious favoritism.

"A Carter who can’t even shift? You’re a stain on the Five Great Packs. Your own parents call you a mistake, Emily. Why shouldn't I?" Behind him, the Locker Room Circle—Adam, Coal, Matt, and Jacko—leered. They were Betas, followers by blood, their scents a muddy mix of wet fur and cruelty. "Check the scent on her," Coal laughed, stepping forward. "Still nothing. Nineteen winters and she smells like a human. Disgusting." Emily backed away, her palms bleeding where the ice sliced her skin. She hit the back wall—a dead end of cold stone and discarded training dummies. "I'll leave. I'll go to the Frozen Frontier, I'll never come back—"

One of the figures dipped a thin, curved obsidian glass dagger into the basin, causing the surface to ripple. My heart pounded. "If you touch me with that—" "You won't be hurt," the figure said coolly. "Unless you are undeserving." The dagger had a dim glimmer. They applied pressure to my palm, allowing the ice to seep into my skin without causing any cuts. The basin's liquid light pulsed once, twice. suddenly exploded with a dazzling brightness. I gave a gasp. Shards of color broke through the darkness. Before my eyes, brief, disorganized images flashed. Under a red moon, wolves howl. Standing on a stone altar was a woman with eyes just like mine. A crown of light. A sea of flames.

After he tosses more firewood into the fireplace and lights them up, he walks back to me and takes a seat on the armchair beside the couch. I feel utterly uncomfortable and uneasy and improper and - what's even happening? I feel even worse than I did back home when father would- The clatter of the little spoon against the porcelain plate pulls me out of my thoughts before I sink too deep in them. The man had scooped a bunch of sour cherry jam onto a place and dipped the tip of one of the small croissant before he took a large bite out of it. The way he moved was mesmerizing, but somehow it seemed out of place. As if he had to think hard on how to do these things...

I froze. "You !!" She said like she was trying to confirm something. "We can't run" Sherry whispered. I'm so doomed!! . .