Novel & Cerita Cursed Womb Death Painting

I saw painted depictions of men holding spears with the heads of wolves impaled on them. “Princess,” one of the paintings, a woman holding a swaddled baby, whispered. “Your life was laid out for you before you were born… What makes you think you can run?” I couldn’t respond with the wind howling into my mouth. The caves went deeper, deeper until they were no longer caves, but tunnels into the center of the earth. Hot and stifling, burning my skin. I saw a ball of magma ahead of me, bubbling and popping.

I wipe the last stubborn speck of dust and see the faded letter. ‘e.’ C. Cage. Wait—Cage? That name hits me hard, like a cold slap. Cassandra Cage. The painting in Perseus’ cabin. It was hers. She painted this? Before I can even process that, the world spins. Voices mumble in my head, overlapping and echoing in waves. I feel myself falling—no, plunging—into a dark abyss. “He who seeks shall find.” The whisper sends chills up my spine. “A curse. A curse, I tell you. A baby would take the life of its mother to survive.”

Camila stepped inside carefully— And froze. The entire room was filled with paintings. Hundreds of them. Every wall. Every corner. Every canvas. All of them painted the same woman. A beautiful blonde girl with large green eyes. Some paintings showed her smiling. Others laughing. Crying. Sleeping. Dancing. There were so many emotions trapped inside each piece that Camila’s chest immediately tightened. Love. Obsession. Heartbreak. Grief. Every single painting screamed pain. Mateo remained near the doorway silently while Camila slowly walked deeper into the room.

I stood near her clueless. “I don’t know. My hand is stuck.” She pulled her hand but nothing happened. I pulled the cloth down the floor and a grotesque painting welcomed me. The white canvas was filled with random black scribbles and the longer I look, movements became obvious and formed random shapes. Foreign and barbaric words made of dark smoke floated out of the canvas until a summoning circle was created. In the middle was a closed eye circumscribed by an inverted triangle. Gugu’s hand was sucked by a black hole projected by the canvas. Her fingers up to her wrist on the other side turned into a black shadow just like Mark’s appearance in the valley of the dead.

Theresa alone had been altered. The pain caught up with me again as I glided over the stairs. I coughed, clutching my bloody belly, and stumbled to the ground, my blood spilling onto the floor. I had to get up, had to keep moving, but it was so painful . . . Then I noticed movements in Salem’s murals. The figures portrayed were distorting, bulging, until they pushed out from the walls and ceiling, becoming flesh and form. Claws and maws grew from every wall. The maids tore open as Uncivil ripped out from the paintings behind them. Their blood splattered against the walls, becoming part of the vast paintings.

“Even the toys are black, white, and gray.” “Like I said. Creepy.” I lean on the door frame and hope she will get her fill of the room soon. “And no hemoglobin hiding anywhere.” “What’s under there?” She points to a cloth covered painting on the wall above the changing table. “Don’t know. Never looked.” I go to the painting and pull the dusty cloth down. Underneath is a large painting. In beautiful green script letters, it says, ‘The jewel of our eye’ under that it says ‘Zara Zhade’. Flourishes that match the furniture fill the background of the painting. In between her first and middle name is a silhouette of a howling wolf. From behind me, I hear a little gasp.

I rushed to the throne room where everyone was gathered around something, noise filled the place and I could see some people crying. As soon as I arrived, silence ensued and the crowd gave way for me to pass. In the center of the room was a corpse covered in white cloth. I stilled in that moment, my breath hitching in my throat as my heart beats roughly against my chest. I reached for the white cloth slowly, too afraid of what the outcome might be. I gradually pulled down the white cloth to take a look and the effects were devastating. It was a horrifying sight to behold, the body was burnt beyond recognition, but it was still easy to tell that it was female. The putrid and nauseating smell

She was associated with witchcraft, magic, the Moon, doorways, and creatures of the night like hell-hounds and ghosts. It looks like Cora is a powerful witch, no wonder my mother is always at her back and forth. I sighed before entering inside with my mother, who seemed pleased with the interior of the cave. Though the inside is not that bright still, I could see a lot of goddesses and witches' heads carved on the wall. With my hands inside my pocket, I stride behind my mother toward Cora's chamber. The present witch mother on earth. "You came, my king!" I heard a voice, the voice echoed the whole place, startling me.

The ruler at that time was Draco Vahemir - the strongest Vahemir there is to exist. Each and every member of the Infernal bloodbath pack is born with a special ability, their teeth contains poison strong enough to kill a person within seconds. They are not like every regular werewolf out there. They are stronger, faster than the usual werewolf. I flip through the pages and stop at a prophesy. It is a drawing. A stake in a lady's chest, she is in the arms of a man, his head buried on her chest. I flip to the next page, there is another drawing. The woman is in his arms, his head is backwards, his mouth is widened- he should be screaming. There is no caption in either of the picture. The drawi