Page 28 of Cursed

Even the whispers were quiet.

But the shadows in the corners deepened and their fingers stretched toward me, beckoning me closer. I pushed myself off my knees and stumbled back. But an invisible force seemed to pull me forward, urging me to touch the grimoire—to claim it.

To claim the power captured in its pages.

I shuddered and clenched my fists at my sides. My nails dug into my palms and I gasped at the pain, but didn’t relax my grip.

Maybe the pain—

No.

Nothing could chase away the sinister seduction of the dark artifact that lay before me.

“Give in,”the shadows urged.“Join us.”

The cloying scent of ancient parchment and dried blood filled my nostrils, and I gagged as the heavy, metallic taste of fear clogged my throat. Distorted images danced across my mind—images of power, of torment and pleasure, of control and submission.

Tempting glimpses of a future so tantalizingly within reach.

“No,” I breathed out on a shaky exhale, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the grimoire.

A burning log in the fireplace snapped loudly and the sudden shock of the noise made me jump. I glared at the fire and then flinched again as another loudpopechoed in the room. A shower of sparks landed on the hardwood floor, flickered, and then faded to black.

An insane and desperate thought pushed into my mind.

What if— What if I just—

What if I just threw it into the fire?

I swallowed hard, my mind racing through the consequences.

What if I tossed it in and nothing happened? What if— what if it exploded and burned the whole house down?

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

Without a second thought, I lunged forward and grabbed the book.

Its strange weight made me stagger as I held it against my chest.Why did my legs feel so weak?

The book’s whispers grew louder, and I gritted my teeth as dark laughter echoed in my mind.

I had to do it.

I staggered toward the fireplace and felt the heat from the flames as it brushed against my skin, beckoning me, but it was the weight of the book that held me captive. Moments stretched into eternity as I wrestled with indecision.

Don’t give in. Don’t!

I let out a gasp and wrenched the book away from my chest.

The moment felt suspended in time as I braced my feet and hurled the grimoire into the roaring flames.

It hit the fire with a resoundingthud—a sound that shuddered through my bones.

For a fleeting second, I felt triumph surge within me—perhaps this would end my torment—and I watched the flames rise, crackling and hungry. Then the fire erupted into a frenzy. Sickly greens and purples flared up like a grotesque dance of spirits that had been unleashed from their prison. The flames twisted and writhed in an unnatural rhythm that clawed at my very sanity. Then the flames changed and rippled with a darkness that made my blood run cold.

The hearth crackled and spat, as if protesting the very presence of the book it should have consumed. My throat tightened, and I watched in horror as the flames recoiled, licking the edges of the grimoire but refusing to engulf it.

“No—”

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