Page 17 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

"You'll destroy everything!" Ronan's voice, thick with horror. But it's too late.

Another flash: Ronan on his knees, agony written across his features as darkness writhes around him. I feel Ember's pain as something vital breaks, as the curse takes root in the castle's foundations. The walls shudder, and magic seeps out like blood from a mortal wound.

"Stop this!" Present-day Ronan's hands grip my shoulders, the contact sending electricity through my whole body. The library's magic surges violently in response, books flying from their shelves as pages rustle like startled birds. "You have to stop!"

"I'm not doing anything!" But even as I say it, I know it's not entirely true. Something in me is pulling these memories from the castle itself, from Ember. The magic swirls around us like a storm, responding to emotions I can barely contain. "The castle is trying to show me?—"

"This is exactly why you have to leave." His fingers tighten on my shoulders, and I can feel him trembling. The nearestbookshelf groans as shadows writhe around it. "The curse—it's using you somehow. Using our connection to grow stronger."

"No." I shake my head, still reeling from the visions. My heart pounds with certainty even as tears burn my eyes. "That's not what's happening. The magic responds differently when we're together. It gets stronger, yes, but not darker. Not cursed. Can't you feel it?"

"You don't understand what's at stake!" His voice cracks with desperation. A particularly violent surge of magic extinguishes every lantern in the room, leaving us in darkness broken only by the faint glow of magical energy. "If anything happened to you?—"

I grab his wrists where he's still holding my shoulders, refusing to let him pull away. "Then help me understand! Stop protecting me and just tell me the truth!"

For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flashes across his features. The magic pulses between us, warm and alive, so different from the cold darkness of the curse. Books continue to swirl through the air, and the shadows in the corners seem to breathe with our shared tension.

But then his expression hardens, and he steps back, breaking our connection. The temperature plummets instantly, frost spreading across the windows in delicate, deadly patterns.

"The truth is that you're making everything worse." Each word falls like ice between us. "Your presence here is accelerating the curse. The castle is dying faster because of you. Because I was weak enough to let you stay."

"You're lying." My voice shakes, but I hold his gaze. The magical energy in the room pulses with my words, making the shadows dance. "I can feel it, Ronan. The magic is different when we're together. It's trying to tell us something?—"

"It's trying to destroy us!" He sweeps his arm out, gesturing at the chaos around us. Books hover in the air, their pagesfluttering with supernatural wind. Frost creeps across every surface, beautiful and deadly. "Look at what's happening! The curse is feeding on our connection, using it to grow stronger. And when it finally breaks?—"

He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. A wolf's howl echoes from somewhere outside, lonely and desperate in the darkness.

"When it breaks what?"

"Everyone dies." The words come out as barely more than a whisper, but they hit me like physical blows. "The staff, the wolves, everyone bound to this place. Their lives are tied to the curse now. And you—" His voice breaks, and the nearest window pane cracks with a sound like shattering hope. "You'll die too, if you stay. I won't let that happen."

The temperature plummets further, ice crystals forming in the air between us. The magic that usually fills the library feels hollow now, wounded. Even the books settle back onto their shelves as if they've lost the will to fight.

"So pushing me away is your solution?" I take a step toward him, even as he backs away. "After everything we've seen? Everything we've felt?"

"It's the only solution." All emotion drains from his voice, leaving it as cold as the frost-covered windows. "Pack your things and go. Tonight. Before the curse takes root in you too."

"Ronan—"

"That's an order." He turns away, his shoulders rigid with tension. In the magical half-light, his silhouette looks carved from shadow and pain. "Alistair will arrange transportation. Don't make me force you out."

The last traces of warmth flee the room, leaving only darkness and the soft sound of settling books. Everything that made the library feel alive—feel like Ember—seems to withdraw, as if the castle itself is mourning.

I want to argue. Want to make him see that pushing me away isn't the answer. But the look in his eyes when he finally turns back—that mixture of fear and grim determination—tells me it would be useless. Tonight, at least, the darkness has won.

The walk back to my room passes in a blur of shadows and dying lamplight. My hands shake as I pack a small bag, though I leave most of my things behind. It feels wrong, like I'm abandoning something vital. Someone vital.

The castle groans around me, ancient stones shifting in the cold. Or maybe they're crying. Tonight, on the longest, darkest night of the year, it's hard to tell the difference.

When I step outside, the winter air bites at my skin with supernatural sharpness. The darkness feels absolute, broken only by the distant glow of wolves' eyes watching from the tree line. Their howls have turned mournful, as if they know what's happening. What's being lost.

I look back at Frostspire Keep one last time. In the highest window, a figure stands watching—Ronan's silhouette black against the grey night. The sight makes my heart constrict painfully in my chest. Even from here, I can feel the curse's cold grip on everything I'm leaving behind.

"I'm not giving up," I whisper to the watching darkness. To Ember, to the castle, to Ronan himself. The words hang in the frozen air like a promise. "This isn't over."

The wolves howl again as I walk away, their voices echoing through the longest night of the year. Behind me, Frostspire Keep fades into the darkness like a dream slipping away at dawn. Snow begins to fall, thick flakes that seem to glow with their own faint light.

But I know the truth now. I've seen it in those visions, felt it in the magic that pulses between Ronan and me. Whatever he says, whatever he believes, pushing me away isn't theanswer. The curse may feed on isolation, but love—real, fierce, unshakeable love—that's something else entirely.

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