Page 28 of Chaos Carnival

“Promise?” His smile was sharp despite the agony etched in his features. “Though technically, if we're dead—“

“I swear to god, if you make another joke about our curse right now—“

“What?” His expression softened, but the darkness behind it was unmistakable. “Too soon? It's been centuries.” I held him tighter as we crossed the threshold, choosing to trust him, despite everything. Despite knowing how badly trust could burn.

The door slammed behind us with the finality of a coffin lid, and the shadows rose to greet us like hungry wolves.

When they parted like a death shroud, they revealed a woman whose age shifted like quicksilver, ancient one moment, timeless the next. Her silver hair shone, and her eyes held centuries of secrets.

“Maverick.” Her accent dripped old Paris, grandiose and sharp as a guillotine. “Still collecting curses like lovers, I see.”

“Madame Celeste.” Frost spread from his smile. “Still trafficking other people's misery?”

“Only the interesting ones.” Her gaze pierced through me, past flesh and bone into somewhere deeper. “Ah. A soul-bound witch. How deliciously tragic. And your mate too, if I'm not mistaken.”

“We're not here about that.” Maverick's tone was clipped, all traces of playfulness gone. The tension radiated off him in waves, hostility barely contained.

Celeste's laugh echoed like breaking glass. “Such grandiose denial.” She circled us like a shark scenting blood. “Hunter's poison. That's new for you.”

“We’ve tried the moonlight ritual,” Maverick said, his grip tightening as another tremor hit. “Skin contact under the full moon, channeling through her.”

She reached out, fingers hovering mere inches from the veins crawling up Maverick's neck, her eyes narrowing as she studied the patterns spreading across his skin like venomous ivy. “Good.There might be something about soul curses in my collection.” Celeste's eyes glittered with an unsettling mix of academic fascination and something sinister, more calculating.

“How about something useful.” Maverick snapped as frost spread across his shoulders.

“Aren't we beyond spite?” I turned on him, fury boiling up. “Don't you want to stop making each other miserable?”

“No,” he growled, eyes burning despite the ice in his veins. “You’re mine, miserable or not. What I want is to stop the poison so we can be miserable together forever.”

“Children.” Celeste's voice cut through our argument like a frozen blade. “The ritual you've been doing works, and will be curative, because you're bound.”

My stomach dropped. I glanced at Maverick, who had gone still as stone beside me.

Celeste moved toward an ancient cabinet, shadows writhing around her like living ink. The lock's screech raked across my nerves, reminding me too much of sounds that haunted my nightmares. Ivan in his office. Ivan, about to leave his office.

“You see,” she pulled out a leather-bound tome, its pages crackling with age, “the more you fight against each other, the deeper the poison burrows.” Her lips curved into a cruel smile. “Every time you deny what lies between you, every moment you resist the pull—it feeds the curse, strengthens it.”

“That's impossible.” My voice came out weaker than I intended. “The moonlight ritual—“

“Worksbecauseof your connection, not in spite of it.” She traced a finger down the book's spine. “The skin contact, the intimacy. It's not just about channeling. It's about acceptance.”

Maverick's jaw clenched, veins fanning out across his neck. “You're saying our... resistance is making it worse?”

“Like a Chinese finger trap.” Celeste's laugh held no warmth. “The harder you pull away, the tighter it grips. Each bitter word, each denial—it's quite poetic, really.”

The truth of her words stole the air from my lungs. Every sharp exchange, every time we'd pushed each other away—we'd been making it worse.

I looked at Maverick, really looked at him, and recognized the same realization dawning in his eyes.

“So what's the solution?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Stop fighting.” Celeste's eyes glittered with dark amusement. “Stop denying. Let the bond do what it wants to do.”

My heart sank as she explained to us more about soul curses. Each word hammered another nail in the coffin of my hopes.

Then the book she pulled out made my stomach turn, its cover throbbing like living flesh, veins visible beneath the surface.

Celeste's words drifted through the air like dust as she opened to a specific page and smoothed it out. “The moonlight ritual must be performed for seven consecutive nights, without interruption. But today, as soon as possible, you'll need this.”

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