The night had swallowed the town whole. Thick, grey clouds churned above like restless spirits, blotting out even the faintest sliver of moonlight. In the twisted alleys where light dared not linger, shadows moved with a life of their own — but none darker than hers.
She walked with purpose, every step stirring the cold air like a whispered warning. They called her cursed. They feared her name. But what they hated most... was her beauty.
She possessed a face the world wasn't ready for—sharp yet delicate, ethereal in the most unsettling way. Her pale skin seemed carved from the very moonlight that never touched her. Her eyes, cold and unreadable, could make hearts freeze and tempers flare. Women whispered behind her back. Men stared too long, then turned away in shame or fear. Jealousy clung to her like smoke.
She hadn't asked for any of it.
She hadn't asked to be cursed.
The townsfolk blamed her for every shadow, every misfortune, every unexplained death. They whispered stories, invented legends. And yet none of them dared to speak to her. None dared to look into her eyes and ask who she truly was.
Tonight, as the clouds thickened and the wind howled through narrow streets, the shadows around her thickened too.
Something was watching. And for once, it wasn't just the people.
The town moved like it was caught in a silent panic.
Shops slammed shut. Footsteps quickened. Doors locked. Curtains closed.
Everyone was rushing home—as if the streets were a deathbed and the night a killer. It felt like a race against fate. They all knew what would happen if they didn't make it in time.
A man stumbled along the emptying road, dragging his five-year-old son by the hand. He walked slower than he should have—half-dazed, half-drunk. The bitterness of cheap alcohol clung to his breath. His mind spun with guilt.
He had cheated again.With his boss.Maybe it was the first time.Maybe it wasn't.Even he didn't know anymore. All he knew was that guilt clung to him like a sickness he couldn't wash off.
He muttered something under his breath—not to the boy, but to himself.
"The cursed girl… maybe she's what I deserve."
His son didn't speak. Just stared up at him with wide, quiet eyes.
They turned the corner.
The man paused.
The street was… empty.Too empty.Even the wind had gone quiet.
And then—A small, trembling voice.
"DAD…"
The boy pointed.