The moment Liora's lips touched his, the world did not shatter—it stopped. Time held its breath. The raindrops froze mid-air, glittering like diamonds in moonlight. The forest stilled. Even her heartbeat paused, as if terrified to interfere.
But within her, everything ignited.
A pulse of magic erupted between their mouths, like wildfire laced with honey and moonlight. His lips were warm, soft, but they sparked something ancient inside her—something sleeping for years. Something angry. Something... cursed.
The kiss ended.
She staggered back, dazed. His eyes were wide, pupils glowing silver, breath caught in his chest.
"Did it work?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
But before he could answer, the Midnight Bloom crumbled in his hand—turning to ash.
Her stomach dropped.
"No... no, no, no." She stared at the pile ofglowing embers that once was their only hope. "That was supposed to break the curse!"
"I—I don't understand," he murmured, his brows knitting. "It wasn't supposed to react like that…"
Suddenly, her skin prickled.
The air shifted, becoming thick and charged, as if the very forest around them sensed what had happened. Leaves rustled in a wind that didn't exist. The trees groaned.
And then, her chest burned.
She screamed, doubling over. It was like something inside her had cracked wide open—like fire was crawling through her blood. But it wasn't pain. Not quite. It was power.
He rushed to her, but didn't dare touch her. "Liora! What's happening to you?"
She looked up, and her reflection shimmered in the rain puddle at her feet. Her eyes… they weren't gray anymore. They were glowing silver—his silver.
"I think—" she gasped, clutching her chest, "—I think we just combined our curses."
His face paled.
They sat in silence for hours inside the cottage, the fire crackling between them. She was wrapped in a shawl, trembling, her teacup untouched. He hadn't spoken much. Neither had she. It was as if they both knew that whatever had happened... was irreversible.
"Tell me everything," she finally whispered.
He looked up.
And for the first time, she really saw him—not just his face or presence, but the heavy loneliness behind his gaze. He looked like someone who'd walked through a thousand lifetimes and still hadn't found home.
"My name is Kael. Kael Dorne."
He paused, as if the name itself carried weight.
"I was cursed as a boy. Not by accident, but on purpose. A punishment." He swallowed. "I was meant to carry a burden no one else could—absorb other people's pain. Their grief, their heartbreak. I take it all in. I feel it. I live it."
Liora blinked. "You... feel other people's sorrow?"
He nodded. "Every person I've ever kissed… I felt everything they were hiding. It crushed me. That's why I stayed away. Until I found your name."
She leaned in. "How did you find me?"
"I've been following stories—rumors of a cursed girl hidden in Eldoria. I thought… maybe if two cursed souls kissed, we could cancel each other out."
Liora looked down, her heart sinking. "And instead… we made it worse."
"Not worse," he said gently. "Just... different."
He stood, walking toward the window. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the mist still clung to the trees. "The Midnight Bloom didn't bloom for me. It bloomed for you. That kiss wasn't meant to save me."
She shook her head. "Then why did it destroy the flower?"
"Because we weren't ready," he said softly.
Over the next few days, strange things began to happen.
Birds gathered outside her window, silent and still. Flowers bloomed in unnatural colors where her feet had touched the ground. And worst of all—people began showing up.
Not villagers. Not neighbors.
Strangers.
A woman came first. Pale, trembling, speaking in tongues. She collapsed at Liora's doorstep, whispering, "I was drawn... to the light... to the girl kissed by fate…"
Kael moved her inside and laid her on the couch. But as Liora approached, the woman screamed—eyes glowing for a moment before going unconscious.
Kael exhaled. "You're a beacon now. The curse has turned you into something people can feel from miles away."
"A beacon for what?" Liora asked, panic rising.
But she already knew.
Something was coming.
Something old.
That night, the dreams began.
She saw herself in a different world—standing in a temple made of mirrors. A voice echoed around her, familiar and female, whispering,
"Your blood carries the curse of the First Witch. Your kiss awakened the Seal. The curse cannot be broken… only rewritten."
She turned, but no one was there.
Suddenly, flames rose around her. She gasped, choking on smoke—but the voice continued:
"He will betray you. And yet he is your only salvation."
Liora awoke with a scream.
Kael rushed to her side, holding her shoulders. "Another dream?"
She nodded, trembling.
"They're more than dreams," she whispered. "They'rememories. Of a life I never lived. Or maybe… I did."
They started researching.
Kael brought out scrolls, ancient books, and tomes from his travels. One name kept appearing over and over again:
Elarion.
A First Witch. Banished centuries ago. Said to have created the curse of Eternal Touch—that which made love fatal and kisses binding.
"It makes sense," Kael murmured. "Your bloodline traces back to her. That's why no kiss ever worked. Not until mine."
"And even then, we just made things worse," Liora muttered.
But Kael frowned. "Or maybe… we're unlocking what was meant to stay hidden."
By the fifth day, another stranger arrived. This one wasn't fragile or cryptic. He was tall, armored in silver and black, riding a midnight-colored horse.
"Step away from the girl," he barked at Kael, dismounting.
Liora stood between them. "Who are you?"
"I am Sir Tavien of the Circle," he said coldly. "I've come to destroy the seal before it spreads."
Kael drew his blade. "You'll have to go through me."
But Liora stepped forward, holding up her hands. "I'm not infected. I'm cursed. There's a difference."
Tavien's eyes flickered. "Then prove it. Touch me."
Kael tried to stop her, but it was too late. She reached out and pressed her palm to Tavien's.
Nothing happened.
And then—everything did.
His face twisted in pain. His knees buckled. He screamed as his mind flooded with visions—her visions.
He saw the temple. The kiss. The bloom. The burning.
He collapsed, gasping. "You… you carry the Mark…"
Liora knelt beside him. "What is the Mark?"
He pointed to her chest.
She looked down—and gasped.
A glowing crescent moon had appeared just above her heart, shimmering through her dress like ink on skin.
Kael touched her shoulder, silent.
Tavien groaned. "That mark… belongs to the First Witch's successor. Only the cursed line can summon the Temple of Mirrors again. You're not just marked by a curse, girl… you are the curse reborn."
Liora stood slowly, heart pounding.
No.
She wasn't a monster. She wasn't a witch.
Was she?
Later that night, Kael found her by the edge of the forest, staring up at the moon.
"Tell me the truth," she said without turning. "Did you know this might happen?"
He hesitated. "I suspected. But I didn't know for sure."
She turned toward him, eyes shimmering with pain. "Then why did you kiss me?"
His voice broke. "Because I was desperate. Because I wanted to feel something again. Because when I heard about you... I knew we were connected. I just didn't realize how deep it went."
Liora looked away, her voice cracking. "The curse didn't break. It evolved. It wants something now. And I don't know what it is."
Kael stepped closer. "Then we find out. Together."
She looked at him, and something in her heart softened. Despite everything—he had stayed. He had chosen her, over and over again, even as the darkness grew.
"I think I'm scared of myself," she whispered.
"So am I," he said gently. "But I'd rather face the storm with you… than hide in silence."
She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. And as his arms wrapped around her, the crescent mark on her chest pulsed once—slowly, softly—like a heartbeat made of moonlight.
But far beyond the forest, in a hidden realm where stars bled light and time wept like rivers, a mirror cracked.
The First Witch—what remained of her—smiled in the dark.
The curse had begun again.
And this time… it would not be kissed away.