Ariella staggered back as the whisper of her own voice faded into the cold silence.
"That was me," she gasped, trembling. "That voice… it sounded exactly like me."
Damian stepped in front of her protectively, his eyes darting around the chamber. "The curse is getting stronger. It's starting to manipulate time… and memory."
Ariella's brows furrowed. "Time?"
He nodded grimly. "Sometimes it echoes what hasn't happened yet—your voice in the future. A version of you from a moment that hasn't come."
"That's impossible."
"In our world?" Damian gave a bitter smile. "Nothing is impossible. Especially not when the supernatural is involved."
The crack in the mirror glowed faintly, and Ariella couldn't shake the chill crawling down her spine. Her reflection still shimmered inside the glass—but something was off. The version of herself in the mirror looked older, colder… with eyes that no longer held fear, only resolve.
"I saw myself," she whispered, stepping closer to it. "But I looked… different. Hardened."
Damian followed her gaze. "That's what the curse does. It changes people. Especially those who try to fight it."
Ariella turned to him. "Then tell me everything. From the beginning. I want the truth—no more secrets."
He hesitated.
Then slowly, he exhaled, and the wall around his heart finally began to crack.
"My family made a pact over two hundred years ago," he began. "Wealth, power, influence—everything the Blackwoods own came at a cost. They summoned something ancient… and in return, every firstborn heir was cursed to live with the burden of the seal. We were not allowed to love. Not allowed to form real bonds. Every woman who got too close either vanished or lost her mind."
Ariella's chest tightened. "So what happened to your mother?"
Damian looked away. "She wasn't supposed to love my father. But she did. And one night, after I turned five… she disappeared. No body. No trace. Just a whisper of her voice in my dreams… and the same crack in the mirror you saw."
Ariella stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
He didn't resist.
For a long moment, they stood there in silence, as if bracing against a storm neither could stop.
"I don't care what your bloodline says," she murmured. "I'm not going anywhere. Even if it breaks me."
Damian's voice was rough. "It will."
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Then we break it first."
Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed above them.
The floor trembled.
Damian tensed. "We're not alone."
Footsteps thundered down the stone stairs.
And then, from the shadows emerged a man in a black suit—face obscured, gloves soaked in blood. He moved with impossible speed and grace.
Ariella barely had time to gasp before Damian pushed her behind him and faced the intruder head-on.
"Back away," Damian growled. "You have no right to be here."
The stranger chuckled, voice low and guttural.
> "I have every right. The girl carries more than a tether… she carries a key."
Ariella's eyes widened. "What key?"
The man turned toward her slowly, and for the first time, she saw a faint glint of gold where his eyes should be—inhuman and ancient.
> "The one that unlocks death."
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