Unforgivable Curses Novels & Stories

If she were to grow into a dwarf, Daya would beat him to death. Some Naga tribe members exclaimed, “Oh, Lord Saint hasn’t lifted my curse, but why do I feel the temperature?” “Yeah, me too. Has my curse been lifted?” “Oh gosh, what’s going on?” “I’ve lifted the curse from you guys. The furnace just now was a useful tool to dispel curses,” Alex said. The furnace of forbidden spells could refine evil curses, so Alex was quite surprised. This forbidden spell seemed to be getting stronger. Seeing that there were remaining two baskets of heavenly law fruits, Alex put them away discourteously.

"What the fuck did YOU do? And how fast can you undo it?" "It was undone," Tubby said in that cryptic Fate way that made one want to tempt Fate and strangle them just to see what would happen. "Years of pain, years of cruelty, years of loneliness. The no-fur curse is no more." "What fucking curse?" Spitfire demanded. He pointed to the fluffy tail that wouldn't stop twitching. "Do you see what's on my ass? THIS is the curse, you fucking twit." "Purl!" The tubby tom moved behind the tiny fate like he could hide there. "He's scary. You talk to him."

With a swift, deliberate motion, I spat directly onto his face, the act a visceral declaration of my disgust and loathing. "Screw you, Lucien,” I snarled, venom dripping from my voice. “I loathe you.” His eyes widened in shock, but his furrowed brows betrayed a flicker of concern. “I hate you so much, I wish the curse consumes you, that you suffer a death so agonizing, so merciless, that nothing – not gods, not magic, not even the most powerful witch– can save you,” I spat, tears streaming down my face as I hurled the words at him like daggers. “May the moon goddess herself forsake you, may your death be a slow, torturous march into eternal darkness, and may the curse be your eternal shroud.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to muffle the cries that felt like they were tearing me apart from the inside out. “It’s called The Curse Of Agony,” Sabrina’s gentle voice cut through my despair. “The blood tears are a sign of the curse. It crushes the soul of the one it’s cast upon. The body remains intact, but the soul endures unimaginable pain. The pain is so severe it paralyzes the body and destroys the soul from within. It’s one of the ten Forbidden Curses.” Her words were a cruel reminder of the suffering my mother had endured making anger and helplessness surge inside me. Killian had done this to her. The curse’s brutality felt like a personal attack, a violation of everything I

Nonetheless, the gold-figure still flow away once again and to slam into the hardened-force that block everything from this battlefield. “Ancient...” he murmured, cough so much blood that the clarity of his voice vanish, and to slightly confuse. With a pitch of high and low, he added, “You're nothing but a madness, disregard by your race! Not an ancient...” He shook his head and laugh like mad, though shocking seem like a cry of a little child. “So why trying hard?!” The massive figure howled in frustration. “You, foeigner, know nothing at all,” he said, his voice reminisce. “You having here is a sin, crossing the forbidden, so what are you if not Demonic Saint?!”

Then, I raise my head to the sky, and with every ounce of strength I have left, I lay the curse. “By the blood I’ve shed, by the life you’ve taken from me, I curse the Obsidian Pack. May the Pack’s strength wither, its wolves falter. May your lands be barren, your children weak. I curse your Alpha, Calvin Kane, to know the pain of every life he’s destroyed. To feel it burn inside him, just as it burns inside me. Until his last breath, may he suffer. And may your Pack fall with him.”

He asked as he repeatedly smacking my head with his book, I covered my precious head with my hands but that still hurts! “Well it’s not my fault. They are incompetent people who harass others, I am just doing my part in this society, man!” I tried defending my point but he ain’t stopping. Kev won’t give a damn and he just laughed. “Come on man, I did what I needed to do! I ain’t doing sh*t for a matter of selfishness, they did harass Aya!” Jon stopped when he heard that but Aya is too scared to talk. “Oh, I apologize. Who are these scums? I need them to taste the wrath of me, for I, Jon Ray Cliffordstone is never going to let this slide! I will crush them beneath my feet and—”

She pushed herself up slightly against the pillows, her voice ringing through the shadowed bedroom with surprising force. “Heartless people… You are demons!” she rasped, each word laced with venom. “You will regret what you’ve done to me. I curse you and your child. On the day I leave this world, I will charge you. I will take a life and ensure you live without peace. My spirit will haunt you until the end of your days!” Her voice echoed off the high ceilings, raw and haunting, before collapsing into a fit of coughing. Even in the grip of death, Carla poured every remaining ounce of her will into the curse.

Visitors often found it unsettling, as if they had stepped into a dream where sound itself had been outlawed. The origin of this strange custom dated back to 1923, when the village well had run dry during the worst drought in living memory. Desperate, the mayor at the time, a stern woman named Margaret Holloway, declared that until rain came, no one was to speak a single unnecessary word. "Silence saves water," she had claimed, though no one understood the connection. But the rain did come — the very next day. The villagers, believing they had witnessed a miracle, made the silence a permanent tradition.

There were two glass jars inside with my head and kidney both soaking in formaldehyde. "What gives that bitch the right to be your wife? She even got one of your kidneys," Carmen snarled as she caressed the two jars. "That's why I took it out. I'm returning it to you now. What I can't have, I won't let anyone else have either. My godfather will be here soon. He'll kill all of you to avenge my father!" There was a glimmer of love in Evan's eyes as he stared at my head in the jar. He reached into his pocket and gripped the scalpel inside tightly.