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"And…I got something off him. During the fight.” She held up her phone. Liora crossed the room and took it. A photograph. Blurred at the edges, bad lighting — taken fast, maybe mid-struggle — but clear enough. The inside of a wrist. A tattoo. Intricate. A wolf's head in profile, geometric, something woven behind it that looked like a crescent or a gate or both at once. Lettering beneath that she couldn't quite read. Something about it pulled at her. Like a word she almost knew.

When we stepped inside again the light caught something floating across the room. Sparkling dust. Silver wolfsbane. It coated everything. Like poisonous glitter. I looked up the ladder. “Terrence. Karissa. Go up. See how much is up there.” They nodded and started climbing. I gestured to Bella. “Outside.” She left immediately. Minutes passed. Finally Terrence’s voice came through the mind link. You want the good news or the horrifying news? Just tell me. The most budget-friendly way to kill a werewolf pack in history.

"I'm cursed" I clamped my hands over my mouth to prevent me from screaming. "What kind of curse?" I asked curiosity getting the best out of me. "I don't have human feelings, I can't be happy, I can't be sad, I can't fall in love, anything feelings, I don't have" What?! I almost cried for him as he spoke, how did he get cursed? Who did he offend? How does he cope? "Why are you telling me?" I asked.

She screamed, making list of the people flinch and younger children cry in fright. "But you know what, I will leave and you will never see me again. Of course I won't leave without a gift for your unborn child, whether male or female, the child shall not experience the feeling of full wolf transformation. You can try to break the curse but you will fail and you will also beg to find me and you will also fail. This is my parting gift to you," she smiled deviously and just within a blink of an eye, Rebecca was gone. ~JASON~

I carried the journals to a clear spot and sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, my phone's flashlight providing light for me as I started going through the pages one after the other. The first two journals were filled with basic healing procedures, but it was the third journal, when I started seeing things I was looking for. A page was titled On the Nature of Curses, and Ways To Break Them. I flipped through pages of diagrams and notes, descriptions of different curse types and their signatures. Blood curses. Bone curses. Soul curses. Each one more dangerous than the last. I was deep into a reading about blood curses when my phone rang unexpectedly. I took a look at the caller ID ready to

She felt it was her responsibility, but she also knew she couldn't fight them alone, but she needed help from others, she thought. She used her curse which was "cursed speech". She was able to make something happen with just a word. If she was to say die to anyone they would die instantly, but that depends on how strong the soul of the person was. She used her cursed speech to curse three swords, that can be used to kill anyone that was cursed, with a stab in the chest. She wanted to do more but she couldn't, the cursed energy was too heavy for her mortal body to behold. The three she did take a toll on her body and she lost her voice. She wasn't able to speak or talk again since that day.

Scrolls glowed faintly under runic wards; the air trembled with restrained force. Lucifer motioned for him to continue. “What else?” “Greed said the curse reacts to pure Chaos,” Caius replied. “She didn’t understand why, only that when her mark touched untainted chaos energy, it weakened." Allistair stilled. “My energy.” Caius nodded. “If you channel it precisely enough to cleanse, not consume, you might unravel the sigils one by one.” Lucifer's jaw set. "And if it backfires?"

It landed strangely, low in my chest, somewhere I didn't have time to examine right now. "What's in there?" I asked. He was quiet for a long moment. The floor beneath us gave another small shudder, the same low groan I'd felt earlier, like the whole house was breathing through something it didn't want to. "Records," he said finally. "Old ones. From before the war." "About the curse?" His eyes sharpened slightly. "How do you know about that?" I opened my hand and held the locket out where he could see it, the small folded paper still tucked inside, the symbol catching the hallway's low light.

"Damn, am not escaping death, am I? I need a straight ass answer.” ‘The curse has severely damaged Host's spiritual pathways.’ I swallowed. "So... but I'm cursed… or not? Please answer my damn question like an appropriate computer, not switching my questions around like some damn proclaimed virgins sneaking around for dick. Am I cursed? Am I dying?" ‘Partially.’ "Ugh" ‘Well, approximately 43.6% of the curse has been neutralized by Host's body's natural resistance and previous system interventions.’ I stared at the number.

The words from my mouth were cursed. Anything I said came true. When I was eight, a child trafficker broke my right leg. I stared at him and said, "You made me limp, so I'll make you limp too." A second later, steel pipes from an overturned truck went through both his legs. When I was twelve, a staff member at the orphanage stole my winter coat. I said to her, "You stole my warmth, so I'll give you the cold. You won't live past tonight. Ice will be your coffin." That night, she passed out drunk in a walk-in freezer and froze to death. Then the wealthy Shaw family found me and brought me home. However, I knew I was a monster, so I kept my mouth shut and acted like I was mute. But