Cursed Spirits Novels & Stories

Evan squeezed harder, making Carmen cough. "Die!" "Do you really want me dead? Don't you want to know where Lyra's head is?" Carmen used the last of her strength to say this. Evan froze for a moment before slowly releasing his grip. After a while, Carmen got up and opened the fridge. There were two glass jars inside with my head and kidney both soaking in formaldehyde.

Pages flipped under my fingers until one heading caught my attention: Dual Consciousness in Cursed Beings. My pulse quickened. I read. “Some curses do not bind the flesh, but the mind. A spirit, bound through blood or guilt, may coexist within the host, merging thought and instinct. Such entities often awaken under extreme emotion or confrontation.” That was it. That was what she had touched. The curse wasn’t just keeping Edgar immortal, it was sharing him. He wasn’t alone in his own head. I turned another page. “The host may remain unaware of the secondary presence, mistaking it for instinct or rage. Yet the entity watches. It feeds from memory, emotion, and will.”

Brea was unrecognizable, she held fish, lifted a knife and cut it. It blood trailed over her hand unto the circle, she stood, bare feet and began to dance in the blood. Her hair flew with the usual wind in the room, and our spirits moved to the sound only to be heard by spirits. We stood up and moved, we unlocked something. Something not of this world, spirits thousands and thousands of dead evil spirits filled the room. They began to say the same prophecy "The blood of the human shall unleash great power!"

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.

Too— Weak. Alpha Derek of Edgeland leans forward, voice cutting. “Maybe if you focused more on finding the source of the curse rather than believing in some prophecy, you’d be able to heal your bloodlines.” The air turns volatile instantly. Gavin’s chair scrapes. “She will come,” he insists, voice shaking with restrained fury. “I don’t think you realize how much I’ve done to try to figure out what the problem is.” Alpha energy begins to press outward, thick and dangerous.

Her body still twitched with residual trauma, but the gut-wrenching wails that had drawn us to her room had finally subsided. "Mother used to tell fables of vengeful spirits when I was young," Caspian explained, his gaze fixed on the darkened window. "El Silbón was a boy cursed by his grandfather to eternally carry the bones of the father he murdered. He wanders the plains on rainy nights, harvesting souls in a cycle of revenge. Driven into the wilderness by his grandfather’s hounds, he grew gaunt and wretched under the weight of his father’s remains. Even in life, he was a creature of spite; now, as a spirit, he claims lives as if he were a collector of rare rubies."

The second man spoke. "What are you gonna do? No matter what you do, you won't be able to break my spirit, I'll always fight back." I challenged them. "The one thing that makes werewolves a worthy opponent is the fact that they're so confident in their wolf spirits. Your wolf basically gives you your power and without it, you would be nothing. That's exactly why we'll enjoy taking away your wolf." The cloaked man finally spoke again. The words dropped on my ears like bombshells. I was left dumbstruck for a few minutes but I quickly recovered and scowled at them. They had to be joking, they're just trying to scare me.

They were evil gods, the Spirit of Misfortune and the Spirit of Destruction. Princess Mariel stood beside the Queen Mother, flanked by the phoenixes and Leo, their blades drawn. The air thickened with tension, the gods’ presence pressing over them like an invisible storm. The Spirit of Misfortune stopped and took a deep breath. “Ah, I smell something delicious. How about you?” The Spirit of Destruction also took in a deep breath then ran his tongue over his lips hungrily. “I smell it too. It's been so long since I've smelled something so pure.”

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.

Flipping to the first page she skimmed the text. 'Vampiric entities exist in cultures across the world. Hysteria follows the legends of these phantoms, causing mass burnings and hangings of suspected vampires. Every culture has its own lore regarding vampires. These malevolent spirits would contaminate the living by biting them and drinking their life force to sustain their own.' This gave Layla pause as she remembered Atreus' elongated canines. She chewed her lip softly as she read on.