Neji Hyuga Curse Mark Novels & Stories

Like my soul knew the meaning of the words even if I didn’t understand them. The ground trembled and I flinched as the rune beneathe my feet glowed in tandem with the mark I could feel pulsing just below my collar bone. The same mark I could see glowing beneath Orion’s shirt. A mark that resembled a crescent moon. “Whatever happens,” he warned. “Don’t move, don’t speak. Don’t feel anything.” I stiffened. If moving could mess up brejaking this curse, then I would be as stoic as a statue.

because if you still have it then I will keep losing you over and over again. plus, you won’t just accept me easily. you don’t remember who I am so I might have to make you fall in love with me all over again. or help you regain your memory. I know how to do the latter but how do I help you to get rid of the blood mark? The person who created the curse is dead and there is little to no information about it. It was like she made sure that there was nothing about the curse, there is no way to break it or even how to weaken it.

My past self explodes into sobs of relief. But I— the present me— am choking. “No,” I whisper. “No—don’t show her this—don’t let her see—” The curse smiles. “Oh, she will. She must. It is her story too.” Lyra’s body in the memory shudders— and a mark appears over her heart. A faint crescent. A brand of resurrection. A bond she never agreed to. A tether to me she never asked for. Then another mark flares across my past chest—white-hot, searing, the first spark of the curse embedding itself into me.

"You are no weakling, Hera. You are the strongest person I know. Don't ever forget that." His words washed over me like a soothing balm, momentarily easing the relentless ache in my back. But the pain was persistent, a throbbing reminder of the curse that clung to me like a shroud. "I need to see it," Davien insisted, his voice laced with concern. I hesitated, reluctant to show him this mark of my fragility. But under his insistent gaze, I relented, pulling down the silk of my gown to reveal the bruise. It wasn't just a bruise. It was a grotesque disfiguration, a swirling mass of purple and black that seemed to pulsate with an unnatural light. It was the mark of the curse, a constant reminde

she comforted her as she hugged her. Lucy smiled bitterly, ‘would he accept me if he finds out the truth’ she thought as she closed her eyes. SIX DAYS LATER. Lucy who had just finished taking her bathe walked out of the bathing room, She stared at the mark on her back which was no longer pure red, it had a faint white hue at the rim of the circle. Lucy recalled the mark on the king, she furrowed her brows. ‘The book says the mate curse comes in pairs of death and life, why do we have the same mark’ she thought.

“Let the whole land bear witness and never forget this betrayal. Let the wolves mourn their fallen Alpha and let the curse fund its vessel. And immediately, like a flash, she left. We all looked at one another, confused about what she meant, except for Sebastian, who looked lost as though he had already seen this coming. I felt something flicker on my Arm. I looked down and saw a faint, crescent-shaped line glowing beneath my skin. “A mark” ”A claim” “A curse” And that was the first seal of the prophecy.

First I can't find the people who kidnapped us ten years ago who caused Luzy's death and when the curse was drawn on my face, now I will face the law of creed again that I made myself! "Watashi wa sono rūru o tsukuttanode, watashi wa sono kusorūru o mageru koto ga dekiru hitodesu. Sā, Nihon ni modotte shibaraku yasunde, watashi ga kono ninmu o kyanseru shita koto o darenimo iwanai.” [I made that rule so I am the one who can bend that fucking rule. Now go back in Japan and rest for a while, tell no one that I cancelled this mission.]

His lips moved with purpose, claiming me, and when he tugged my hair lightly, a soft whimper escaped my throat. He pulled back, leaving me breathless, my chest heaving as I struggled to anchor myself. His lips brushed my jaw, soft and deliberate, trailing a path that sent shivers through me. “Sweetheart,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a dark promise, “you can’t reject me. It’s the curse.” My eyes widened, my breath catching as his words sank in. The curse. Whispers of the Shadow Claw pack’s dark legacy flooded my mind—tales of a bloodline bound by an ancient magic, their marks unbreakable, their mates fated to be consumed.

“Tell us how to stop her, Seraphine. Tell us how to break the curse.” For a long moment, she just stares at him, her defiance warring with her fear. And then, finally, she lowers her head, her shoulders slumping. “There’s no way to break it,” she whispers. “Not without killing the ones she’s marked.” My heart sinks, but I force myself to stay calm. “There has to be another way. Something you’re not telling us.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with a twisted sort of pity. “You can’t kill a ghost, Nero. Marle’s curse is tied to blood, to the very essence of what we are. The only way to stop her is to end the bloodline she’s infected.”

Keana, as if to make up for her brother’s silence, squirmed and cried, the sound strong and demanding. Mara reached down, brushing her hand lightly over her scars. The silver marks were still there, faint, but unmistakable. And when the twins cried, those scars seemed to glow, as if the very life inside them was feeding off the power of the curse that had been placed upon her. She hadn’t broken it. She had only transformed it. The curse was still there, lurking in the shadows, evolving. And it would follow her. It would follow them all.