White: Melody Of The Curse Novels & Stories

I snarled, lunging again. We crashed together, claws and teeth colliding, blood splattering across the rocks. Somewhere in the chaos, I heard Maya’s voice—pained, desperate. “Sarah, stop! It’s me—it’s Maya!” But Sarah’s growls drowned her out. I saw them, briefly, Maya on her back, blood smeared across her face, Sarah above her, eyes with rage. Melissa’s light tried to fight back, but Sarah’s curse magic ate through it like acid.

How to pick locks with hairpins, how to walk without making noise. Click, the door opened. Inside were shelves full of books, hundreds of them, all thick and old and covered in dust. I looked for anything about bloodlines, about wolves, about marks like mine. One book caught my eye. "The Lost Wolves of Valdris." I pulled it down and opened it, the first page had a drawing, a huge wolf with silver eyes. Black marks covered its whole body just like mine. I read as fast as I could. "The Valdris bloodline was the strongest of all wolf families. They could heal from anything, see the future, control other wolves with their minds."

It was a suffocating, heavy pressure that made my chest feel hammered by ice. "The packs are panicking," Ryan murmured, his knuckles whitening as he checked the global relay. "The Southern packs... they're seeing the crimson fissures. They're saying the White Wolf didn't kill the curse. They're saying he is the curse." Leo tugged at my sleeve, his nasal voice gaining a tiny edge of sassy defiance despite his exhaustion. "Mommy... those uncles are shaky again. If the older thing calls... I can make it quiet forever. I can make the floor stop moving."

The walk through the gardens should have calmed me, should have erased my frustration, but it did not. Lanterns twinkled above the hedges and fountains, the air crisp and fragrant with late-summer blooms. My senses tingled with a strange unease. The wolf inside me whispered, small and insistent, trying to guide me, to warn me—but her voice was drowned beneath the roar of the curse, beneath centuries of witches' malice that tangled every instinct. The noise pressed in from every direction, leaving me dizzy, overwhelmed, barely able to parse what was danger and what was desire.

Channon lets loose the call of war and we all spring into action and race to meet the sharp teeth of our enemy. ‘Keeva, the incantation isn’t working. I need a cursed soul.’ Celeste’s voice fills my head as relinquish control to Selina and she tears through a small brown wolf, leaving it throatless heap on the floor. ‘What am I supposed to do, drag one of these deranged beasts to you?’ My mind whirls with possibilities and unrealistic ideas. ‘We need to take one of the cursed to Celeste, she can’t break the spell without a cursed soul.’ In my haste I call out to the whole pack instead of the trusted few who know what we are trying to do. To my surprise it is White Claw who answers me. ‘Selin

She disappeared into the fog and falling ash, her body shifting as she ran—limbs twisting, spine cracking, her fur black as tar, eyes glowing like dying stars. The curse rode her blood like a drumbeat now. But beneath it, a whisper curled like smoke around her ribcage. Not the curse. Not Malric. A memory. Kale, laughing in the summer dark. His hand in hers. “I see you,” he’d said, voice warm. “I see you.” Vyre stopped running. Just for a second. The curse growled inside her. Weakness. She let it rage. Let it tear through her like a wildfire. And then she swallowed it back down.

Intrigued, she ventured inside and found herself in a forgotten chamber, covered in vines and moss. As she explored the ruins, her heart raced with excitement. She could feel the presence of something ancient and powerful lingering in the air. And then, as if by magic, she heard the faint echo of her melody reverberating off the walls. With trembling hands, Eliza reached out and touched the moss-covered walls, feeling a surge of energy coursing through her veins. It was then that she realized the truth—the melody was not just a song but a spell, passed down through generations to protect a long-forgotten secret.

Blackthorn emissaries backed off, murmuring retreats. But Elara was fading. Her body went limp in my arms, collapsing forward onto the stone. The light winked out, leaving only the cold moon above. "No!" I howled, the sound ripping from my chest like a wounded animal. It echoed across the kingdom, raw agony that shook the spire. Kael joined me, his roar mingling with mine, a primal cry that made the pack below whimper in response. Cassidan clutched her shoulders, tears streaming down his face, his own howl rose as the three of us united in despair, our voices a symphony of loss. She was laying there, her breath shallow and her skin paling to ash. The curse was gone, I could feel it, the weig

"You can't protect me from the truth. You know that." His fingers flex against the wheel. "I know." Silence settles between us before I ask the question that's been weighing down on my chest. "How does the vessel actually break the curse?" He glances at me. "They hum." I blink. "Hum?" "A song," he corrects gently. "It’s not sung with the throat, but with power. It's... harmonic and supernatural. It resonates across realms." I swallow hard. "And the purpose of the song?"

The room gasps and everyone jumps to their feet. “That’s impossible!” Elder Wino exclaims, voice weak. “That spirit isn’t real!” “Yes it is,” Lucy says firmly. “It’s bonded to the accursed. It is the energy. This text explains everything.” “No…” Elder Lucas shakes his head, swallowing hard. “It’s undefeatable. A rotting curse. It will destroy the bearer and their entire bloodline.” “And it can only live in the body of a powerful wolf,” Lucy continues, eyes still locked on the page. “Even the one who placed the curse can’t break it. Only the white wolf has the power to destroy it.”