Page 12 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

I may not know exactly what I'm looking for yet, but I know this: something is wrong with this curse, something that goes beyond Ronan's transformation or the castle's decay. And somehow, whether by fate or design, I'm becoming part of the story—part of the magic itself.

The library lights dim slightly, as if in agreement. A book shifts on a nearby shelf, and I smile, recognizing Ember's way of communicating. "We'll figure this out," I whisper to the watching shadows. "I promise."

The warmth in my chest pulses once, like a heartbeat, and I know my promise has been heard. Whatever price these answers demand, whatever risks lie ahead, I'm ready to face them. After all, some mysteries are worth solving, no matter the cost.

And Frostspire Keep's mysteries seem to be choosing me.

The Tale of Tam Lin

BRIAR

The sleek computer in the library hums to life, one of the few pieces of modern technology still functioning within Frostspire Keep's walls. My own phone died the day I arrived, another victim of the curse's strange effect on electronics. I settle into the ergonomic chair—a jarring contrast to the ancient wooden tables and centuries-old books surrounding me—and try to find the words to explain everything to Sara Ann.

The high-end monitor casts a soft glow across the polished desk, illuminating the leather-bound books stacked nearby. It's strange how this corner of the library represents the collision of Ronan's worlds—his modern wealth meeting the castle's ancient magic. Most of his cutting-edge devices fail here, but somehow this computer survives, as if the castle permits this one tenuous connection to the outside world.

Dear Sara Ann,

I know this email will sound crazy, but I need your folklore expertise. Remember all those fairy tales and myths we used to research together? I'm living in one. Or maybe trapped in one—I'm not entirely sure anymore.

Something's wrong with this castle. The magic here (yes, actual magic) keeps getting stronger, then fading, like it's fighting against something. Books move on their own, symbols appear and disappear, and yesterday... yesterday I kissed someone who might be cursed. The whole library erupted with power when it happened.

I know how this sounds. But you're the only person I can talk to about this. The owner, Ronan—he's pushing me away now, but when we touched, the entire castle seemed to come alive. There's this curse, and I think I'm supposed to help break it somehow, but I don't even know where to begin.

Does any of this remind you of something from your research? Any folklore about cursed castles or magical transformations? I feel like I'm missing something obvious, some pattern I should recognize.

Please don't think I've lost my mind.

- Briar

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. The study feels different tonight—more alive, more aware. Books shift slightly on their shelves as I stand to stretch, and I swear the shadows deepen in response to my movement. Even the air feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Trying to restore some normalcy, I begin tidying the desk. But every time I move a book, it somehow finds its way back to its original position. The third time this happens, I notice something odd—one particular volume keeps appearing more prominently than the others, as if deliberately catching my attention.

"Alright," I murmur to the empty room. "I can take a hint."

The computer chimes suddenly, making me jump. Sara Ann's response already? She must have been online. My heart pounds as I open her email:

Briar,

First, I don't think you're crazy. Second, have you ever heard of "The Tale of Tam Lin"? Because everything you've described—the curse, the transformations, the way you have to hold on despite impossible odds—it reminds me of Janet and how she had to fight to save her love from the Queen of Faeries.

Janet found Tam Lin in an enchanted wood. He warned her away, but she kept coming back. When she learned he was cursed to be sacrificed to Hell, she waited for him on Halloween night. The Faerie Queen transformed him into terrible shapes—lion, snake, burning coal—but Janet held on through every change. Her love and determination broke the curse and saved him.

The key was that she had to hold on no matter what form he took, no matter how frightening things became. Her unwavering faith and love were stronger than the Queen's magic.

Maybe this isn't just about breaking a curse. Maybe it's about having the courage to hold on when everything and everyone tells you to let go.

Be careful, but trust your instincts. They've never led you wrong before.

Love,

Sara Ann

P.S. Send more details when you can. And if you need me to come there, just say the word.

I read the email twice more, my mind racing. The book that kept drawing my attention earlier seems to vibrate on the shelf now, its spine glowing faintly in the dim light. When I pull it down, it falls open to a collection of transformation myths. The pages rustle on their own, settling on an illustration of a woman clutching a man as he changes from human to beast to flame.

"Janet held on through every change," I whisper to myself. The words seem to hang in the air, making the shadows dance. Yesterday's kiss flashes through my memory—the way the library's magic surged around us, how Ronan pulled away as if burned. He's trying to protect me, but what if that's exactly the wrong thing to do?

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