The morning after Elias's funeral, Aurora woke to a house that felt less like home and more like a mausoleum. The heavy silence pressed against her chest as she sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the cracked mirror Elias had always hated. It was a relic he'd found months ago at an estate sale, claiming it "held stories older than time." She used to scoff at the idea. Now, its fractured surface felt like a window to something darker—a reminder that things unseen had already begun to invade their lives.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. It was a text from Clara, Elias's sister.
"Are you okay? Mom's worried."
Aurora hesitated. She wasn't okay. But the truth was too heavy to share.
"I'm managing," she typed back.
The house creaked again, shadows shifting in corners where light didn't reach. Aurora wrapped her arms around herself and stood, deciding to start her day despite the dread crawling beneath her skin.
She stepped outside, the autumn wind biting, leaves swirling at her feet like restless spirits. The town looked the same—quiet, sleepy—but Aurora felt a chill that wasn't from the cold. Elias's death had cracked something fragile in her world.
At the small café down the street, she met Clara, whose eyes were red-rimmed but fierce. Clara clasped her hands tightly.
"We have to talk," Clara said. "There's something you need to know about Elias. About our family."
Aurora's heart lurched. "What do you mean?"
Clara looked around nervously before lowering her voice. "It's… about the curse."
Aurora blinked. "Curse?"
Clara nodded. "Our family's bloodline. Elias's ancestors were cursed generations ago. No one talks about it—out of fear, or shame. But it's real. And it's why Elias died."
"Why didn't he tell me?" Aurora whispered.
"Because he was trying to fight it. He wanted a normal life. But the curse hunts him... and now you."
Before Aurora could ask more, Clara's face paled. "There's someone coming for you."
Outside, the sky darkened unnaturally fast.
Back at her house, Aurora locked every door and window, but sleep refused to come. The journal still lay open on the floor, its pages filled with strange symbols and warnings.
She ran her fingers over the word Pact again, the memory of the ritual vivid in her mind.
The mirror caught her eye—its cracked surface shimmering oddly in the candlelight.
A whisper tickled her ear.
"Aurora…"
She spun, but no one was there.
Her breath hitched as cold dread crawled up her spine. The house felt alive with shadows, as if watching her every move.
Suddenly, a pounding at the door shattered the quiet.
Aurora's heart leapt.
She opened it slowly.
A tall man with dark eyes and a silver pendant stood on her porch.
"I'm here to help," he said.
The stranger introduced himself as Lucien, a hunter of things beyond human. He knew about the curse and warned that dark forces had marked Aurora now that she'd crossed into their world.
Lucien's presence was both comforting and unsettling. His eyes seemed to see through her, reading her fears and secrets.
"You're not alone," he said. "But time is short."
Aurora had no choice but to trust him.
Together, they began to uncover the twisted history of Elias's bloodline—a tale of ancient bargains, betrayal, and sacrifice.
That night, Aurora dreamed of Elias trapped in a cage made of shadows, his eyes pleading for rescue.
She awoke to find the cracked mirror fractured further—tiny red lines spiderwebbing across the glass.
A dark promise hung in the air: the descent had begun.
Aurora's fingers trembled as she stared at the mirror, now more shattered than before. The faint red glow pulsing along the cracks seemed unnatural, like a heartbeat trapped in glass. She reached out hesitantly, feeling the cold surface beneath her skin, and the whisper came again—so soft she thought she imagined it.
"Aurora…"
Her breath caught. She turned sharply, eyes scanning the dark room, but the shadows only deepened, twisting and folding into shapes that defied reason. For a moment, she saw a flicker—a silhouette—vanish behind the curtain.
Her heart hammered, but she forced herself to breathe. "I'm not crazy," she whispered aloud.
Lucien's voice came from the doorway, low and steady. "No one would blame you if you were."
She hadn't realized he was still there until he stepped closer, candlelight catching on the raven claw pendant around his neck. "The curse makes its presence known in many ways. Hallucinations, whispers, shadows... They're warnings, but also traps."
Aurora swallowed hard. "What traps?"
Lucien's dark eyes never wavered. "To draw you deeper. To break your will."
She shivered. "What happens if it wins?"
"Souls are lost. And worse, they become weapons of the curse itself."
The words chilled her more than the autumn night outside. She wanted to scream, to fight, but the weight of grief and fear sapped her strength.
Lucien seemed to understand. "Rest tonight if you can. Tomorrow, the real work begins."
That night, sleep refused to come. Aurora lay in bed, the shadows in her room growing thicker, more oppressive. The whispering returned, now a chorus—echoing through the corners of her mind.
She clutched Elias's worn jacket to her chest, the faint scent of his cologne offering a fragile tether to the man she had lost.
Her eyes drifted to the journal resting on the floor beside her bed—the strange symbols swirling in her mind like a riddle she was desperate to solve.
Her thoughts spiraled back to the day Elias had vanished. The night when the sky turned blood red, and the air felt electric with menace.
She remembered how his hands trembled as he clutched the ancient book, muttering incantations she didn't understand.
"Elias," she had begged. "What's happening?"
His voice had cracked. "It's the curse. It's real, Aurora. And it's coming for me."
He had tried to hide the truth, but now it was all laid bare—and she was standing at the edge of a terrifying abyss.
The following morning dawned gray and cold. Aurora found Lucien waiting on her doorstep, his expression grim.
"We don't have time to waste," he said. "The curse's hold tightens with each passing hour."
He led her through the tangled streets of Ashborne, toward an abandoned chapel on the edge of town—a place whispered about but avoided by locals.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. Moonlight filtered through stained glass, casting fractured rainbows across broken pews.
Lucien pulled from his satchel a collection of relics: iron crosses, vials of salt, and a dagger etched with runes.
"We need to create a ward," he explained. "A barrier to keep the curse's shadows at bay, even if only temporarily."
Aurora helped set the protective circle, her hands steady despite the dread curling in her gut.
As they worked, Lucien recounted the origins of the curse: a centuries-old betrayal, where a desperate ancestor had bartered with Asriel, a demon lord of lies and blood. The pact had granted power but demanded a toll—a bloodline forever hunted by darkness.
"The curse feeds on love," Lucien said quietly. "It twists it into obsession and pain, tearing families apart."
Aurora's eyes filled with tears. "Then I have to fight it. For Elias."
Lucien nodded. "You're stronger than you know. But strength alone won't save you."
The wind howled outside as they finished the ritual. For a moment, the chapel felt safe—a fragile haven against the encroaching shadows.
Returning home, Aurora's phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number: "You can't run from the curse. It's already inside you."
Her blood ran cold.
She looked up to see the mirror's cracks now glowing fiercely red, as if warning her of the darkness seeping through the thin veil between worlds.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out.
The room plunged into darkness, pierced only by the crimson glow of the mirror.
Then the whispering grew louder, angry now.
"Aurora… come to us."
Frozen, Aurora felt cold fingers brush against her neck—phantoms of the curse's hunger.
She closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm not yours."
A fierce will blazed inside her—a promise to fight, to claw her way back from the abyss.
Over the next days, Lucien taught Aurora how to defend herself—not just with weapons, but with rituals, words of power, and ironclad resolve.
They faced creatures twisted by the curse—shadowy forms that slithered in the night, trying to claim her soul.
One night, Aurora dreamt again of Elias trapped in that cage of shadows, his eyes filled with pain.
She reached out, but the cage shattered suddenly—and Elias stepped forward.
But his eyes were not the same.
They glowed faintly red.
He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Aurora…" he whispered. "I'm not who you remember."
Aurora woke with a scream, drenched in sweat.
By the time dawn broke, Aurora knew the fight was only beginning.
Her love for Elias was the light in this darkness—but it could also be the blade that destroyed her.
She clutched the pendant Lucien had given her—a small silver raven claw—and vowed silently:
I will bring him back. Or die trying.