Page 174 of Castings & Curses

A jolt of fear ran through me. My gaze met Edeline’s. “And if such a relationship were to occur?”

“There is a curse on our kind and witches. Never may we know love with one another. If a vampire were to be so foolish as to give his heart to a witch, all our power, and yours, would vanish. We would be as dust, and the witches would be divested of their bond with their goddess, leading to insanity.”

I kept my face as still as possible, but it was abundantly clear they knew about Sage. Had someone seen her at Ravenscroft? This curse they spoke of, if true, would spell her demise. I cared nothing for myself nor for the council, but Sage and her family did not deserve to suffer. I was treading in dangerous waters, and the undercurrent was swift and deadly.

“I understand,” I said as steadily as I could manage.

No more was said of the curse after that. They moved on to rules and territorial disputes among powerful vampires, while my mind kept returning to their first words with a sense of desperation. After the meeting concluded, I hurried back into the cold night. My mind was a whirl of thoughts, of the council, their laws, and this chilling prohibition against a love that I was only beginning to understand. And amid it all was Sage, her presence in my life now a danger to us both.

I galloped Dragos back to my castle, my mind wrestling with the warnings. A sense of foreboding enveloped me as Ravenscroft’s grand silhouette loomed in the darkness. I had stepped into a new world, embraced the darkness for power, but at what cost?

My thoughts drifted to Sage, her radiant smile, the softness in her eyes, her unwavering belief in love and healing. I ached for her, to feel her against me once again.

But the council’s words were etched in my mind—a warning, a threat. I was a vampire now, and the laws of this world were absolute.

Later, I wandered into the castle’s library, a room that had always been a sanctuary to me in my human days. It was a place of solitude, a haven filled with knowledge and wisdom. But tonight, the towering bookshelves and ancient tomes felt cold and detached, their comfort replaced by an unfathomable void.

As I absently traced the ornate spines of the books, a beam of moonlight fell upon one in particular as if guiding me to it.Arcane Traditions and Forbidden Love: An Examination of Otherworldly Relationships. It was an old book, its pages yellowed with age, its cover worn. A sense of forbidden curiosity arose within me. Did it hold any answers for me? For us?

I retreated to my favorite armchair by the fireplace, the book in my hands. The fire flickered, illuminating the pages as I turned them. Stories of forbidden love filled the pages, tales of witches and vampires, their love always ending in tragedy as they were hunted and destroyed by their elders before the curse consumed all. My hopes sank as I read, each word a painful reflection of my predicament.

Closing the book, I let it rest in my lap, my gaze fixed on the glowing coals in the hearth. So, this was it. The more I delved into our world, the more I realized that this forbidden love, this entanglement with Sage, was not just dangerous, but deadly.

A sigh escaped me. The irony of it all was not lost on me. I had yearned for more power, for more control. And yet, here I was, trapped in my own decisions, caught in a love that could be my downfall and hers.

But as I sat there, a growing resolution hardened within me. I was a man who had never backed down and always fought for what he wanted. I had defied traditions before, rising above society’s expectations. Could I not do it again? For Sage, for us?

As I retired to bed that night, I held on to that resolve. No council, no law, no decree could stand in the way of love. It was a battle I was ready to fight.

CHAPTER11

Sage

The waning mooncast a silvery glow over the small cottage as I pored over the ancient scrolls spread across my wooden table. The staccato beat of my heart matched the storm of emotions swirling within me.

My fingers traced over the faded ink, words and histories that connected generations of Hawthorns. These were stories passed down from my ancestors, secrets of witchcraft and tales of the sorcerer’s curse and the feud that arose from it. Each side blamed the other for the curse that put all their power and lives in jeopardy. So that there was no risk of vampires and witches finding peace and even love with one another, the two sides had become the bitterest of enemies. Vampires resented witches for walking in the light, and witches despised vampires for embracing darkness and death. We were both magical races, but never could the vast divide between us be bridged.

My hands shook as I realized the implications. Cristian, the man I had grown to care for deeply, was now part of that world, obedient to a council that had been an enemy of my family for centuries. Neither would my family ever accept him. How could I reconcile my feelings for him with my loyalty to my family? The man I loved was now a symbol of an ancient hatred that ran deep within our blood.

I forced myself to read on. The words swam before me, forming tales of lost love and forbidden relationships. My ancestors had paid the price for defying the council. Could I risk the same fate?

My heart ached as I thought of Cristian. I remembered the intensity of his gaze, his laughter, and the warmth of his presence. He was a part of me now, a part of my soul that I couldn’t just abandon.

Yet my loyalty to my family ran just as deep. I couldn’t allow my love to put them in danger. My grandmother’s words sounded in my mind:“Family, Sage, is what keeps us grounded when storms rage. Our loyalty to each other is what makes us Hawthorns.”

A tear slid down my cheek, a silent testament to the internal battle waging within me. How was I to choose between love and loyalty? Would the curse truly destroy us all?

I looked out the small window, the peaceful night a stark contrast to my inner disquiet. The moon, my silent confidante, seemed to offer solace. It reminded me that life was a series of phases, of cycles of darkness and light.

Perhaps, just like the moon, I too would find my light amid this darkness. I pulled on my cloak, slipped out of my cottage, and made my way toward the center of the village. My mother’s home, nestled near the stone well, was an embodiment of warmth and welcome even in these late hours. I paused outside the door, taking a moment to steady myself before I pushed it open.

“Mother,” I called out, stepping into the small, cozy room illuminated by the flames of the fireplace. She turned from the pot of herbs she was tending, her eyes, the same hazel as mine, reflecting the firelight.

“Sage.” Her surprise was evident in her voice. “What brings you here in the middle of the night?”

My words caught in my throat. “It’s about Cristian Lazar,” I finally managed to choke out, my hands nervously playing with the fringes of my cloak.

“Lord Lazar?” A cloud of concern shadowed her face, and she set her herbs aside, beckoning me to sit. “Tell me everything.”

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