Sasuke Uchiha Curse Mark Novels & Stories

"The way your ancestors treated them contributed to the curse placed on your bloodline." I banged my fist on my throne's arm, my blood boiling with anger. "Who are you to speak of my ancestors?!" I snarled, bursting out in anger. Alpha Dominic offered an explanation. "I understand it isn't your fault, but the curse is still on your bloodline. From the conversation I had with the wizard, the deep scar your ancestors left on them hasn't healed on bit." I gritted my teeth in suppressed rage, knowing it was useless arguing with them. They were right.

"What is it? What’s wrong?" “The mark…” I managed to choke out, my voice barely more than a ragged breath. I pulled the coat tighter around me, but I knew he could see it — the ugly, burning black symbol spreading across my side. The dark lord's final curse. The dark mark was reacting to my weakened state, feeding on it, growing stronger. Arthur’s jaw clenched. “We need to stop it. How?” I hesitated, feeling embarrassed at what I was about to say. I could barely meet his eyes. “A mate’s mark,” I whispered, the words caught painfully in my throat. “It’s the only thing strong enough to suppress it. I—I need you, Arthur.”

I tripped and crashed hard onto the floor. Her laughter rang sharp and cruel. My blood burned. I wanted to scramble up and scratch her face bloody… Then her laughter slowed. “Wait,” she said slowly. “Isn’t that a cursed mark on your back?” My breath hitched. The small top I wore had shifted, revealing the mark I’d been hiding. I quickly adjusted it and pushed myself to my feet. “It’s nothing,” I said, steadying my voice. She smirked. “I saw the crescent mark. That’s the Goddess-branded curse signature.”

Her hair fell in a heavy, dark sheet over shoulders wrapped in some kind of fur‑lined cloak, though no frost touched her bare throat. Her eyes… They were wrong. Colorless around the iris, the pupils too dark, too deep, like looking into a well you couldn’t see the bottom of. Her lips were a blood‑dark red, curved into a smile that didn’t reach those eyes. And at the base of her throat, half hidden by the edge of her cloak, I saw it. A mark. Faint, like a bruise whose edges had blurred. Three lines in a circle. Lucian’s curse sigil.

Sachem Nadura said and gazed at the cloud of strength that was clearly visible to all directions of these Eternal Prisons. His eyes concentrated and punctured through the camouflage of power upon the vortex of its origins. At the center was a boy. A marred being coupled with his list of sickness. His broken body may have been spectacularly pitiful but what called Sachem Nadura’s attention most was the tattooed symbols on the forehead of the boy. It was the mark of the Cursed. Someone who has done an unforgivable sin in his past life. And not just one but a whole lifetime of evil and immorality.

“Unless you choose otherwise.” “And Tate?” Azraeth’s smile turned vicious. “Will wish he’d never been born. I promise you, he will suffer beautifully for what he did.” I took a shaky breath. This was insane. Absolutely insane. But what did I have to lose? “One year,” I said. “And you make him pay.” “Deal.” Oberin’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Heat flared where he touched me, and I watched in shock as a mark appeared on my inner forearm—an intricate symbol that looked like a cross between a mark and a brand, glowing faintly crimson before fading to black.

Pulled‌ h‍is s⁠hirt o‍v‌er his head. The marks covered his chest. Hi‌s ribs.⁠ His sho⁠ulders. Black lines spreading ac⁠r‍o​ss his skin like cra‌cks in glass. Some of them looked⁠ old. F‌ade​d. Others l‌ooked fresh. Raw. ​"It'‌s worse f⁠or me," Dax‌e​n said. "Beca⁠use I h​ear thoughts. Feel emotion⁠s. Th⁠e curse feeds on that. Ma‍kes it stronger."

“The Moon chose you. You can hate me all you want. You just have to carry my heir.” My stomach twisted. I could barely breathe. “Oh,” he added, voice lower now. “And be reminded — you are bound to me now. You’re mine. My mark is on you like a curse.” The room tilted slightly. I gritted my teeth, hands trembling. My vision blurred from fury. “Fuck you,” I spat. “I will never be yours. I would rather bite my own fucking tongue and bleed to death than carry your heir.” His jaw tensed. That cold mask of his cracked, just a sliver.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – THE MARKED AND THE DAMNED The flames lit Luca’s face in flickering strokes of orange and red, like he’d stepped out of hell instead of a wrecked scrapyard. Smoke curled around him, catching the edges of his torn shirt, the deep cuts along his arms, and the dried blood on his jaw. But none of that compared to what was burnt into his skin. The sigil. The serpent devouring itself. The mark of betrayal.

LAYLA Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at the mark on my neck. Yeah. That mark. You know the one you get after your fated mate marks you with a kiss. Although my mark looked like it, it was literally smoking like a cursed barbecue. Black smoke curled out of it with little flashes of red, like someone shoved a demon inside my skin, but whatever it was, I was so happy about it. My entire existence was not in vain. I finally had a purpose goddess chose me for.