Miraculous Cursed Images Novels & Stories

Rose said, biting her lip and looking troubled. Sebastian glanced at the dead Kairo. He said in a low voice, "Even if we don't have the Soulbell, we can't just watch Whitney and Madeline die in such a tragic manner. Let's get back to Steinberg at once. As for neutralizing the curse, I'll think of something." Sebastian could only pin his hopes on the Sacred Medicine Secret Annals. However, there were more than 1,000 prescriptions for lifting a curse, but none of them were about the Malleus worm. He would have to use the process of elimination and try it one by one.

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.

Cammie looked at me dumbfounded. "Seriously?" she finally asked. "Yes," I nodded. "I don't make it up." "But how could she be the cause?" "She's not normal, Cammie," I said. "You'd already told me that," Cammie pointed out. "No, I mean she's not like anyone else," I said and tried to force the words. "She's- a psychic-vampire." "A psychic what?" Cammie echoed out bewilderingly. "A succubus if you prefer," I said again. "You read a lot. You know what dhampire is. You better know what a succubus means!"

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.

Magic is the only reason I survived that fall. Magic is the only reason I now bear the mark of a Ruined. The inked fingers symbolize my curse. We come to the end of the path, where an old cottage loom close to a lake. I follow the strange lady inside. The interior reminds me a lot of my family's cottage back in the Red Moon Pack. The only difference is that this cottage has a lot of shelves where a good number of bizarre-looking artifacts and runes are kept on. At the back of the cottage, a space has been cleared, where chairs and tables are arranged as though it was a bar shop.

It’s a cruel rule of the curse; we can’t have them, but we sure can sense them. I grimace, gently turning the next page. Artemis describes Mira as a lady of unparalleled grace and refinement. Her countenance is a portrait of ethereal beauty, with alabaster skin that rivals the purest snow, and eyes like twin sapphires that sparkle with an inner light. I know nothing else about his life from this point on—nothing but the love he had for his mate. And then my eyes snag on another name, chills running down my spine. Elora.

It looked so spectacular and mysterious. Kendra felt so painful as if thousands of bugs were biting her skin. At this moment, she was soaking in a big wooden cask, naked. She was sweaty and frowning, seeming so uncomfortable. After a few minutes, Kendra finally opened her eyes and woke up. She saw a strange room, which was decorated with European style. The crystal lamp was so bright that Kendra had to cover her eyes with her hands to avoid the strong glaring light. Where was she? Kendra looked at her body and screamed immediately. Why was she naked? She stood up horribly but to see a pair of deep eyes.

That I was to be the pack's historian, so I must take special classes at what they called the Artamas Academy School for the gifted. My first memory of Artamas. I was small, so small. I walked in with Esmerelda holding my hand. We walked into a Library of sorts. It looked old, though, nothing like the library at the packhouse. There was a small blonde-haired boy with the most piercing blue- almost ice-colored eyes. Maybe a year older than me. He was doing a puzzle. Every time he got the piece wrong, he winced as if being shocked. He smiled at me, a smile so bright it took my fear away. This place made me want my mother. She left me. She didn't want me. No one wanted me. That is what they tol

The mirror flickered, and the image was gone. Mira stumbled backward, heart pounding. “Adrian! AD—” He was already there, rushing in from the hall. “What happened?” She pointed, trembling slightly. “It—it talked back.” “The mirror?” > “No. Me. From the mirror. Future me, or cursed me, or some deranged version of me. She said not to trust the heart.” Adrian frowned, stepping closer to the glass. “The curse is merging reflections with memory. It’s creating possible outcomes.”

“The guardian of this place. You must have no idea what the Cursed Mirror of the ancient Supreme Pack is. It is a relic that will suck any living creature with a soul once you come too close to it. That was what happened to you.” “So this isn’t a dream? Why did I see my dad earlier?” “What do you expect? This relic is named Cursed Mirror for possessing dark magic. Once you are sucked inside, you will be attacked by illusions until you are consumed by darkness and become a dark soul caged in here.”