White: The Melody Of The Curse Novels & Stories

Lucas asked softly. "I don't know," Cassie whispered. "I honestly don't know." Outside, the white wolf howled at the moon. A sound filled with pain and guilt and a grief too deep for words. The curse of blood ran deeper than anyone had imagined. Some wounds echoed across lifetimes, and some sins followed souls no matter where they tried to hide.

she bitterly smiled, “so my desire is my origin. What's with my parents, the ancestors, the ancient? What cause this suffering in my heart when I'm only want is live?” Her expression change greatly as she added, “Do I deserve it?” “Nonsense!” The voice vibrated, and the white fragment cause her pupils to shrink. “No one deserve such a thing. The curse is a price from the ancient, and it's nothing personal, lady.” Nuahanna shook violently. The white fragment came to her mind, causing her mind to spun. The way it spun, it revive the emotions in the deepest of her soul! Creeching, splashing and banging sounds filled her mind. Then the images so bright it daze her, and she vibrated herself. Her

I went still. Cold clarity swallowed me whole. Rage—not mine—rose from deep inside. A presence older than Elara. Darker. The Curse. Miguma. I surrendered. My eyes opened underwater. They were no longer honey brown. They were pitch black. The sky above cracked open with thunder. Lightening tore across the desert— And rain—impossible, slicing rain—fell like shards of glass. Melody jerked back from the waters edge, eyes wide. “What—what’s that?!”

Why I am weak- crying- because of Alonso is something I do not really understand you But throughout all of this, I notice something else worrying- Alonso doesn't look well. Despite Elena's presence as the supposed white wolf, he is growing paler, thinner. Sometimes I catch him wincing in pain when he doesn’t know I am there “The curse isn't broken,” Melody says. “If anything, it's getting worse.” ***

Hope flared in his chest. But the curse was relentless. The glow intensified, building to a blinding crescendo that swallowed them both. The last strand of the curse had waited years, feeding on shadows, hiding in silence. Now, with blood spilled and vows on the brink of fulfillment, it surged forward to claim what was promised—the White Wolf’s end. Samantha’s scream was the sound of destiny tearing apart. The light burst outward in a shockwave that flung warriors and royals alike to the floor. Glass shattered, banners tore from their rafters, and the marble cracked under the force.

I stood in the wreckage, chest heaving, claws dripping red. The door opened again. Blackthorn wolves flooded in. Their eyes locked on me, on the shadows still curling off my skin, on the glow still burning in my eyes. At the front stood Elder Cyril. His face was stone, his voice as sharp as the blade he carried. “The House of Glass cannot stand with a curse inside its walls. Either the curse is purged… or Blackthorn shatters tonight.” Kael stepped forward, his sword still bloody. “She’s not a curse. She’s mine.”

The sound made even the witch flinch, and Melinda stumbled back, clutching Diana’s arm. Valerius didn’t move. His gaze was locked on Chloe, his jaw tight with the kind of desperation he never let anyone see. “Swallow, Sugar,” he whispered fiercely. “Take it in. Hold on.” The glow from the cure spread down her throat, pulsing through her veins like rivers of molten gold. The black lines across her face fought it, twisting, resisting, until they began to recede. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, half-sobs, half-growls.

Fighting to surface. MATE. The word becomes everything. MINE. PROTECT. Not from her. Protect HER. The bond—broken, gone, dead— Suddenly ISN'T. It slams back into place. Not gentle. Not slow. Like two magnets forced apart finally snapping together. Stronger than before. Unbreakable. Silver light. Crimson power. Meeting. Merging. The world explodes. Light everywhere. Blinding. Pure. The curse burns. Screaming. Dying. And I'm—

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.

Not in a million years. The Wizard leaned back in his chair, eyes clouding with something like sorrow. “There are things at play here beyond your understanding. Time… fate… curses—they all tangle together in ways that even I cannot always see clearly. But I do know this: the Wicked didn’t just find you. He remembered you.” My heart thudded painfully. “Remembered me? From when?” “From when he was you,” the Wizard said simply. “From when he stood where you are now—confused, frightened, and dangerously close to the same path.”