Zavrion, Kenny, Kin, and Vixen—stood silently before the great statue of Buddha, their hands pressed together in prayer. The air inside the monastery felt heavy, like time itself was holding its breath.
After the prayer, Zavrion and Kin stepped outside to search for the monk who once helped Kin and Vixen. But fate had already written a cruel truth—the old monk had passed away.
Instead, his disciple, the one closest to him, now carried his wisdom.
They found him sitting in meditation, eyes closed, body still as stone. The air around him felt thick, as if time itself had stopped. When the monk finally opened his eyes, his gaze fell directly on Kin—as though he had been waiting for him.
He motioned with his hand.
"Sit."
Kin and Zavrion obeyed quietly.
The monk's voice broke the silence, calm yet carrying an unshakable weight.
"I know the storm that is surrounding your family. The darkness that walks beside you."
His eyes locked on Kin.
"Your husband will heal soon. But if you truly want to solve the curse on this village, it is not you—not even your husband—who can end it. Only your son holds that power. You and your husband can only stand behind him… give him strength. The rest, he must face alone."
Kin's chest tightened. Zavrion's hands clenched as if trying to hold back his fear.
"But how?" Zavrion asked, his voice low, urgent.
The monk tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. "The answer is already within you. When the time comes, you will understand."
Then he turned back to Kin.
"Bring your husband here."
Kin hurried out and returned with Vixen. Kenny, unable to stay behind, followed them in.
The monk prepared a bowl of sacred water. He dipped a talisman inside and whispered an ancient chant, the sound heavy and chilling, as though unseen shadows stirred with every word. Handing the water to Vixen, the monk said firmly,
"Drink this."
Vixen drank. And at once, the sickness that had weighed him down began to fade. His body felt lighter, his breath steady again.
But then, the monk's gaze slid to Kenny. His expression darkened.
"You are in great danger," he said. "Another attack will come for you soon."
Kenny froze, eyes wide. "Me?"
The monk nodded slowly.
"Yes. The soul of your past lover is still close to you. It hasn't left this world. It lingers… it clings to you, unable to let go."
Kenny's legs weakened. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. His voice broke as he begged,
"Tell me… how did my lover die?"
The monk's face hardened.
"Your partner was killed by a dark spirit. His body was used in rituals. His soul was bound, corrupted… and now it circles around you, restless, desperate."
Zavrion's breath caught. He leaned forward, almost pleading.
"Then what can we do? Is there no way to stop this?"
The monk's eyes fixed on Zavrion. His tone carried no doubt.
"When you are by his side, nothing will harm him. You are his shield, his only safety. But…"
His voice dropped into a chilling whisper.
"The moment he is alone, the spirit will strike. His dead lover's shadow will try to drag him away. If he is not careful, if you are not there… he will be lost forever."
The candles flickered violently, as though invisible hands brushed past them. Shadows stretched along the monastery walls, curling and twisting like hungry claws.
Kenny trembled, clutching at Zavrion's arm as though it was the only thing keeping him from being swallowed by the darkness. And Zavrion, holding him close, felt the weight of a fear greater than death—
the fear of losing him to the cursed shadows that would never stop haunting them.
---
Continue.....