Page 106 of Cursed

Two more were taken in quick succession, and they barely made a sound as they crumpled to the ground.

Valen joined us and doused the lanterns to allow the darkness to envelop us once more. Bastian lingered over the bodies and wiped his blade clean with a flourish on the back of the guard beneath his knee. His pale eyes sparkled with delight as he sheathed the blade.

“I’m so glad Lucian gave us something to do with our time,” he said. “It’s been too long since we’ve gone out on the town.”

“Get up,” I snarled. “We’re not even halfway there.”

The door loomed ahead, ornate and ominous. Wrought iron, curved like vines, studded the heavy wooden door’s dark surface.

I paused at a glowing sigil embedded in the stone wall beside the door—a magical ward designed to repel intruders. With practiced ease, I reached out, and my fingers brushed over the cool stone surface. The ward pulsed beneath my touch, a heartbeat of power—but it was weak. My lips curled into a smirk; it wouldn’t take much.

I focused my will as I summoned a flicker of dark magic. It surged through me and burned through my fingertips as I severed the connection with a single thought. As the ward disintegrated, a soft hiss echoed in the silence.

I glanced around to ensure no one else lurked nearby before pushing the door open.

It creaked delicately, a mournful sound that echoed through the lavish foyer beyond.

The opulence of the interior struck me—the intricately carved mahogany furniture, gilt-framed paintings, and decadent decor seemed to mock us.

The air grew thick as we slipped deeper into the estate, and shadows curled around us and seemed to guide our steps.

Valen moved ahead as he navigated the twisting hallways. He’d studied the map closely, and I trusted him to know the way.

We rounded a corner, and Valen raised a hand, halting our advance.

Ahead, a heavy door loomed, carved with intricate designs that seemed to writhe under the dim light, symbols of power—but not of protection.

Elder Craster’s chambers.

The house was quiet. No guards in the house. Servants all in bed.

I stepped forward and placed my hand against the cool wood. The power of the sigils fluttered under my palm, but the darkness in my veins was no match for it. The Sages didn’t understand the power they were ignoring…

Pale green smoke wreathed my wrist and flowed down the door and into the lock. I closed my eyes and followed the path of those nefarious tendrils as they wound through the tumblers and snaked through into the room beyond. The lock emitted a softclickas it submitted to my magic, and the door swung open. I expected the hinges to groan and give us away, but it moved silently until the uneven flagstones stopped it.

Inside, the opulence struck me like a physical blow—rich fabrics draped the grand four-poster bed, and the ornate furniture gleamed dully in the low light from a single amber lamp. Shadows danced across the room and swirled around the figure nestled beneath the richly embroidered coverlet.

“Let’s make this quick,” Valen hissed.

The heavy drapes muffled any sounds from outside and wrapped the room in an oppressive silence that felt almost sacred. I moved closer to the bed and loomed over the Elder.

“Time to wake up,” I growled. With a swift motion, I gripped his shoulder and shook him hard. The jolt of movement pulled him from the depths of sleep. His eyes snapped open, wide and glassy, and I relished the sight of the terror that bloomed within them like a dark flower unfurling its petals.

“What— What’s happening?” His voice was a rasp.

“A reckoning,” I said, leaning in close enough to catch the scent of fear on his breath, mingled with the stale remnants of the wine he had drunk before sleep. The old man’s confusion morphed into dread, and recognition came upon him like a slow sunrise.

Before he could utter another word, Bastian slipped from behind me, a devilish grin plastered across his face. “Oh, come now, Elder. You should have known this was coming.” His voice was honey-sweet, but every word dripped with poison.

“Please, I—” He faltered, but I sensed he was stalling.

Bastian rolled his eyes and pushed past me to take hold of the old man’s shoulder. “Save the sob story for someone who cares, Elder. Because I assure you, we do not.”

Valen lingered by the door, and I watched him carefully as Bastian hauled the old man out of his bed.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement in the hallway—a pale figure lurking just beyond the threshold. Before she could retreat into the dark, Valen shot forward and reached into the hallway, and the choked gasp that accompanied his movement. Valen pulled a pale-faced woman into the room. Her eyes were wide as she realized what was happening.

“Ah, the lady of the house,” I drawled. “Your husband has been quite uncooperative tonight.”

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