LOVER'S LUNAR CURSE

sky, casting its cold light on the forest. As she entered the warmth of her home, she closed the door behind her with a soft

eady felt with him-was making it hard to stay composed. She ran a hand through her

she could see how it had ravaged his body. His skin was pale, almost too pale, and the dark bruise forming around the gash on his side was

per that she couldn't quite name. He was a stranger, someone she had only met hours ago, and yet, she felt an ove

presence that pulled at her, something ancient, almost

tics, bandages, herbs-but as she gathered the materials, something lingered in her mind. This wasn't a normal wound. The blood was dark and sticky, thi

ed the idea over in her mind.

he full moon, who could never break the spell no matter how hard they tried. But those had always

erent. If it wasn't just the usual werewolf affliction,

im. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the full extent of the injury. His body was muscled, scarre

ing the jagged edges of fabric that had clung to his torn skin. She felt the heat of his body radiating

help fight off infection. The mixture was thick, dark green, and pungent, and she could

ertips-the slight buzzing in the air as she touched him. The curse was still t

urking behind his closed eyelids. It was as if the man who had been here moments ago had been replaced by someon

the curse. She ha

wh

his was something she had never encountered before. The dark magic wrapped around Declan was ancient, pow

t, the forest shrouded in darkness, but her mind raced with questions. Who had cu

d always been so dangerous, so uncontrollable. She had fled from her own family's legacy, choosing a quiet life in Moondale over the dangerou

deny that she was connected to it-somehow. That pull, that strange ma

ous, his body still twitching slightly from the effects of the transformation. His breath came in shallow bursts, and she could feel

was slick with sweat, his face pale and drawn. He was fighting something-somet

onto hers with a fierce intensity. His pupils were dilated, his irises a shade of gold that remi

e hoarse, barely above a whi

ulnerability in his voice. She had to force herself no

r voice soft and steady. "I know what it's like to carry

a grimace. "This isn't the same," he muttered.

wned. "What

amily's curse... it's older than time. No one wh

e a heavy fog. The curse was more than just a magical afflic

it back with her own hands and herbs, had watched as the light dimmed in people

id firmly, "it's me. You're not

hers, and she could have sworn she felt a spark of warmth in

at you're getting into.

s facing, but she would not walk away from him now. Not after everything that had happe

to decide that,

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ill shallow, his fever continuing to rise. The herbs she had applied would ease the immediate pain, but she coul

is magic, was tied to something far older, far darker than anything she had encountered before. But she also knew something else: she had a gift, a deep connec

if the very room had become charged by their proximity. She had tried to push it away, but it was impossible to ignore. Declan's presence was overwhelmi

focused. She h

, if only for a moment. Declan shifted restlessly beneath her touch, his lips parting slightly as if he were abou

aintly visible at the edges. "You shouldn't have done this," he muttered, hi

er resolve unshakable. "I know what I'm doing," she replied firmly, even though part of her-small

ak and trembling, reached out and gently gripped hers. The contact was brief but intense

ndages," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "It's not

his words. "Maybe you can't escape it alon

nce stretched between them, heavy and full of unspoken things. Emmeline didn't know if he believed her-or if he even could. But what she

cing with ideas. She needed more than just basic healing methods. There was somethin

family for generations, wasn't something she had the power to undo on her own. It require

one of her grandmother's texts, a guide to breaking curses, rooted in the old ways of magic. It had been buried in her collection for years, mostly untouched. The knowled

d help. The pages were filled with incantations, rituals, and spells-some she recognized, some she didn't. As her ey

nt. "You can't... you can't break it. The curse has been passed down throug

om the book. "I'm not

efused to be deterred. She ran her finger down the page until s

of the ancient spirits, where the moon's light touches t

down for centuries. But it was the only thing that made sense. The moon, the ancient spirits of the f

eed to go to the forest," she said, her voice firm. "There'

yes-fear, uncertainty, and something else. Something she couldn't quite

us. Even if you find it, even if you make it to the heart of th

her. But she wasn't going to let fear stop her. Not now. Not when she cou

together," she sa

g with something close to hope, but also with caution, a

between them thick and unspoken. And in that silence, Emmeline

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