Phasmophobia Cursed Objects Novels & Stories

But peace was not part of the divine plan. Just as her hand reached for the stack of flimsy disposable cups, a cold ripple passed through her. She froze. Not the kind of cold from overworked air conditioning. No. This was spectral cold. An aura. It slithered through her spine, across her skin, and into the back of her mind like static on an old television. Her jaw clenched. "Nope. Nope. Not today." Because lately, very lately, things had gotten visually terrifying. The ghosts, the figures, half-formed whispers standing near the vending machine. And lately… they were getting bolder. Clearer. Solid, even.

Then the doctor ran in as we stepped back and Xavier growled as he was male, unmated and unmarked as far as we could tell. "I came as quickly as I could, alpha, what's going on?" he asks, looking at the unconscious girl in front of me. A gasp of fear and shock escapes him and he backs away. "You have to kick her out!! I cannot treat her! She's the Cursed Rogue!! She matches the description perfectly! Alpha, she cannot-" I snapped. "SILENCE!" Xavier roared. It was rare for our wolves to actually speak on their own like that without their human counterpart, but in this instance, I was right along with him. The doctor instantly closed his mouth and bowed his head in submission.

She reached for a book with a red cover; a book that could show a map of the world. “Here—” Winter pointed to an area, “—the Forest of Death is located, in a Balkan city. You can only come at night. Find the golden foxglove and that's where all the cursed souls are.” “Foxglove?” asked Helena in surprise. She had never heard of this. “Gosh, you don't know? All the cursed souls would be trapped in the Forest of Death, but no one would be able to see those souls except… Selena herself.”

Confused and mesmerized, she reached down to grab him, but all she got for trying was that now familiar yowl as his face shifted into the freakishly scary caricature she had gotten used to. This time, she wasn’t going to lie, it scared her a little. It seemed her time away from him had made her forget how horrendous he truly was looking like that. Apparently, so had he. The red-head watched his freaky eyes widen at the look of fear in her own eyes, his normal looking hands reaching out to touch his face. “No, no, no, no,” She heard him mutter, his tone suddenly frantic. “This isn’t supposed to happen, the curse has been broken,”

Something strange stirred beneath my skin—a prickling heat that spread like wildfire through my veins, My body went into spams, My vision blurred as I stumbled to my knees, it seemed as though the world was tilting dangerously around me, my bones cracking and reshaping with agonizing intensity. Fur sprouted from my skin, coarse and pearly white, my limbs contorting into a new form. And then I shocked myself, a raspy snarl tore from my throat, My fingers curled into claws, I could feel my senses sharpened, the world now painted in stark contrasts of light and shadow from the normal colours I was used to.

My voice cracked on the words because I was certain that he did love me. Confusion marred her perfect features. “Is he sick?” Because truly, that would be the only other problem. “He's cursed.” I blurted out. “Cursed?” She sounded disbelieving. “Yes, cursed.” I spent the next few minutes explaining Brian's curse, his age, the death of his prior mates, and the future event of my possible death.

Isaac said sedately "putting together thoughts and a string of coincidences, at least that's how I think. I might be wrong." "I hope not," Ash burned his throat as he swallowed. The woman was getting louder and her constant shifting to show off her shapely legs or expensive accessories was annoying him. "Although there sure are people I'd like to see a curse on." "Old objects have strange auras," Isaac tactfully ignored the latter remark. "They're thousands of years old, they've passed through more than we could ever hope to see. That idea alone can send shivers up the spine."

His silence weighed heavy, his thoughts a storm I could not see. For a while, I welcomed the silence. Bits of images I couldn’t make sense flashed in my head—images of the glowing symbols, of the twisted creature, of the figure cloaked in shadow. They were like shards of a nightmare puzzle, missing pieces, lying more disorganised than usual. But one thing was sure, the curse was not some joke. It was alive and it had its sights on us. “Do you think we’re safe now?” The silence was broken by Jameson’s voice.

The air crackled with energy, and a sense of foreboding filled the space. Carefully, they examined the artifacts, their knowledge of history guiding them. Suddenly, Aidan's eyes fell upon a cracked, weathered scroll tucked away in a corner. He unrolled it, revealing faded text. "This... this seems to be a record of an ancient curse," Aidan exclaimed, his voice filled with awe and concern. "It speaks of a forbidden power that can erase memories and warp the very fabric of reality." Casey's eyes widened as she looked at the scroll. "Could this be the source of Phenrix's memory loss?"

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension. Lysandra’s gaze remained fixed on Kaelen as he stood across from her, his posture rigid, a storm brewing behind his sharp golden eyes. She clutched the photographs in her hands, her knuckles white, her heartbeat thrumming in her chest. Each picture was a reminder of the horrors that had begun haunting her. The figures—those unnatural beings—appeared only in the frame, but their presence lingered in her mind, haunting her thoughts.