White: The Melody Of The Curse Novels & Stories

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.

The noise hit a second after, quiet and deep like a hum turning into song, each bit pulling at her ribs. Selene slapped her hands over her ears, but the tune wasn't out there in the air; it burrowed right inside her head. The melody twisted through her mind, soft one way and mean the next. It dragged up old stuff, her dad's laugh echoing, the exact second the curse landed, that first glimpse she got of Aurek lurking in the dark. One memory melted into another until time all blurred together, past and now mixing up bad. Then there she was, seeing herself on the other bank, hair whipping wild in the gusts, another her wrapped in this ghostly glow. That other Selene grinned, raised her palm, an

Mia I focus on the painting, squinting my eyes as I look at the wolf in the mirror. The wolf is all white, which is a legend: there are no white wolves left in the world. What I don’t understand is why the woman has white hair like a cursed one. I guess it could make sense that white hair would correspond with being a white wolf, but I wouldn’t know since I, myself, have no wolf. I sigh, looking at the moon in the picture, “Who are you?” I whisper, my fingers coming up to the canvas to touch the woman’s white hair, but just as I do, the wolves blue eyes glow and I feel my body woosh, knocking me out cold.

they laughed together. Octavia did play her music, but it wasn't any song I had heard, the melodies were strange with swaying notes and tuneful pitches. It pierced through the night air and gave me goosebumps. And a moment later, the grass around us stirred. I heard growling sounds coming from the dark. Then I almost jumped onto Octavia, because there were about ten or twenty mountain wolves coming from nowhere. They opened their jaws and growled, surrounding the vampires. The bodyguards' eyes widened in shock as they squeezed against each other. I had never thought that Octavia could even charm even wolves.

What if the girl gets suspicious? But, unexpectedly, Leona just nodded her head with a smile. Allowing William to heave a sigh of relief. Turns out she didn't really think much of Ethan's rambling words. "Let's go!" William said then walked out of the dining room. Without waiting any longer, Ethan immediately followed his cousin. Until Leona was alone in the room. Leona chuckled, "A wolf? That suits him. His personality is quite similar to that of a wolf. His aura is scary, his gaze is sharp, and don't forget, he likes meat," Leona muttered before shoving the food into her mouth casually.

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.

"Because I found something at the Bodleian. Old texts from your time. Writings on spells, curses, witches. I have been working on them for days, trying to decipher them. And I think I have." He handed me a book, his notes marked in the margin. "I think what we felt when we kissed was not just us. It was the curse. Reacting to you. And to me." I blinked at him. "What do you mean?" He guided my eyes to the passage he had underlined and read, his voice low and steady. "It says: Only the kiss of true love, the union of fated souls, creates a ripple strong enough to shatter the curse." The words blurred. A cold that had nothing to do with the window crept up my spine. I let out a sudden, incredul

Real fear. “Charlie—” I choked out, holding out a hand toward him, fingers trembling violently. “Don’t—don’t get close. I can’t—control—” But he ignored me. Of course he did. He pushed himself up, coughing, stumbling to his knees, then his feet. His eyes were bright with terror—but not of me. Of losing me. And that was somehow worse. He took a step forward. My entire body convulsed. The curse surged. My breath ripped out of me in a broken, strangled sound. The Wicked roared in my skull, clawing at my mind.