Cursed Poetry Novels & Stories

" Just as His Majesty is surprised, so am I. After you had left, I had to battle through a lot to save her life. The poison was over reacting with her blood, and not just that... I discovered she was having the feelings about the war. Her body was burning like she was having a serious fever. I tried every thing to calm her down but... I couldn't. Then some thing about her surprised me. She woke up, walking to the Book. " " To do what? " " I don't know, until she flipped the pages to this place. " He said, showing the page to him. " This isn't Greek. " Said Kaden. " Yes, it's Latin. One of the language spoken mostly by the ancient Reverends said to be the 1700 cult leaders. They say the words

Her thoughts faded when Claire started speaking. "Cousin, what are you pampering her for? She is the reason why Aunt is disabled. She is a curse to Aunt. Why are you carrying Aunt's curse like she is precious..." Claire's words were cut abruptly when Kael growled in anger. He is the Alpha. Once he releases his intimidating aura, normal dragons or shifters cannot withstand the pressure.

Her voice wavered as she crouched down and snatched the baby bottle from the woman's unsuspecting grip. Her hands trembled, her eyes wide with dread. "W-Where did you get this bottle?" Turning toward me, her gaze was filled with accusation and despair. Tears welled up as her voice cracked. "This… this is the bottle I gave to Nicholas, isn't it?!"

Arriving unto that certain place where the curse is looming from within. “A curse that will put you into the deeper sanction of your darkest fear and inevitable death. A poem created to inflict pain and suffering for those who come across with it and will bring death unto the foolish ones who will lead it out loud. Just how cunning the God who wrote this world and book, for cursing it for real this time.”

I was lost to the world above, swallowed by the sea, forever part of its dark, quiet depths. Where the moon meets the shadow, secrets lie beneath the willow. Find the path where wolves once danced, the key to freedom in your hands. A cough. The willow tree at the top of the cliff, before I had a great fall… Born of shadows, the child was torn. A breath denied, her soul reborn. Blessings of old, now turned to ash A cursed resurrection, a haunting’s flash. A kick. I am the end that has no beginning,

Zu asche verfall’ diu swarze kraft, Zerstaubet al ir dunkeli saft. Mit reinen herzen, sêle klar, Ich bannen dich, sô was ez war. Translation: By moon and mark, by blood and flame, I call the fire, I speak the name. From prophet’s line and wolf’s own howl, I break the curse, undo the foul. By sacred bone and spirit thread, No shadow lives where light is spread. Ash to ash and night to dust, Return the dark to rot and rust. With heart made pure and soul alight,

He growled. Seriously? That was it? Like, I was the monster here. “It's actually 'who are you?'” I snapped. “You were educated, were you not? Why don't you act like it?” He frowned slightly and slowly began to pace back and forth along the little space before me, but keeping his eyes on me all the time. “This has never happened before.” He muttered. “I've always lived with this curse, burning whoever I laid hands on. Why won't you burn? What rune are you using to protect your body?”

Prologue The wind howled like something dying. It tore down the jagged slopes of the Senkte Mountains, carrying ash and frost in equal measure, rattling the iron torches that lined the narrow path. High above the world below, where the air thinned and the land itself seemed to recoil, the Daywalker Castle loomed. It did not belong in this realm. Black stone walls rose from the mountain’s spine like broken teeth, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly beneath the surface—as if the castle itself breathed. Silver-veined banners snapped violently in the wind, each bearing the same crescent symbol split clean down the middle.

Curiously, I took the letter from his hands and my brows furrowed in confusion. The Curse of the Broken Oath In shadows deep where oaths were torn, Beneath the fang and forest born, A wound was carved in sacred land, By traitor's blood and vengeful hand. The trees remember, roots still weep, As cursed winds through soil creep. The howls shall twist, the hearts shall turn, Until the fire of fate does burn. Madness shall bloom in loyal veins, The harvest rich with ancient chains. And when the star-child wakes in light,

I'll die a sad and lonely wolf and all because my father thinks keeping me locked up like this is protecting me. I know you'll probably ask why I don't just go outside without Siri noticing but believe me, I've tried. The cottage is fortified with some sort of magic or enchantment, anyone can just walk in and out, anyone except me. Each time I try to walk out that door, I become enveloped by excruciating pain and it almost feels like I'm engulfed in fire, the flames blazing at my skin piece by piece.