The grand chandelier flickered, its golden light trembling against the polished marble floor. The laughter and music that had filled the great hall only moments ago dissolved into a wave of gasps and frightened whispers.
And in the center of it all — Nattalie Huang stood frozen.
Her silvery gown shimmered like spilled moonlight, but her trembling hands reached up to touch the soft, furred edges that now adorned her head. Ears — not human, but lupine. A pair of delicate, gray-tipped ears, twitching faintly at the echo of every horrified sound around her.
"No…" she whispered, voice breaking. "This isn't real…"
But the tail brushing against her dress told her otherwise.
The air was thick with confusion, fear, and disbelief. The scent of roses from the banquet table mingled with the faint metallic tang of panic. Somewhere in the distance, a child began to cry. Someone dropped a glass — the shattering sound cutting through the tension like a scream.
Vincent Huang reached her first, his tall frame shielding her from the growing circle of eyes and whispers. He tore the heavy drape from its mount and wrapped it around her shoulders, concealing what he could of the impossible transformation.
"Enough!" he barked, his voice commanding the kind of authority that silenced a hundred breaths at once. "The celebration is over. Everyone, leave."
No one dared argue.
Norte stood a few steps away, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles blanched white. Rage trembled beneath his calm facade — rage not at Nattalie, but at the merciless fate that had chosen her.
David, pale and shaken, could not tear his eyes away from his sister. The same sister who, only an hour ago, had been laughing, teasing, alive.
Now she looked as though her soul had been stripped bare under the cruel moonlight.
Their parents, Nakulla and Liliana Huang, finally reached her. The crowd parted instinctively — no one wished to stand in the way of the most powerful family in the city. But even power could not protect them from this.
Nakulla reached out, his voice trembling though he tried to keep it firm. "Nattalie, listen to me. Whatever you see, whatever you feel — stay calm. We're here. We're with you."
Nattalie lifted her gaze, her gray eyes glimmering with tears that refused to fall.
"Stay calm?" she echoed, her voice soft but sharp with disbelief. "How can I stay calm when—"
Her words broke as a new wave of pain rippled through her body. Her knees buckled. Vincent caught her just in time, steadying her as a low, helpless whimper escaped her throat.
David took a step forward, his voice barely a whisper. "It's happening, isn't it? The curse… it's real."
Silence fell between them like the toll of a funeral bell.
Norte turned toward their parents, his eyes blazing. "You should have told her. You should have warned her before tonight!"
"Enough, Norte," Vincent cut in sharply, his tone heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. "Now is not the time."
Nattalie looked between them all — the people she loved most — and saw only shadows of fear reflected in their eyes. Her breath came in uneven gasps as the full horror of it began to sink in.
Her family knew.
They had always known.
Her trembling fingers clutched the edge of the curtain around her shoulders. "You… all of you knew this would happen," she said, her voice trembling. "And you said nothing."
Liliana's lips parted, but no sound came. Her eyes glistened, filled with the kind of sorrow that words could never carry.
Nakulla placed a hand on his daughter's head, his voice breaking. "Forgive us, my child. We wished only to spare you the fear — not to blind you to the truth."
But forgiveness was a fragile thing.
Nattalie shook her head, her tears finally falling. "Spare me? Or spare yourselves the shame of what I am?"
The question hung in the air like smoke, bitter and unyielding.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky — as though the heavens themselves bore witness to the ancient curse that had awoken once more.
Vincent held her closer, his voice low and steady. "You are still our Nattalie. The curse changes nothing about that."
But his words did little to soothe the trembling girl in his arms.
The curse had not only changed her body — it had marked her soul.
As the final guests fled the mansion in terrified murmurs, Nattalie lifted her gaze toward the tall windows where the full moon burned in a pale, merciless glow. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass — half girl, half creature — beautiful and tragic all at once.
And in that moment, she understood.
This was no dream, no illusion.
This was her inheritance — the curse of the Huang bloodline.
And it had finally come for her.
***