The days that followed blurred into a haze of cryptic dreams, strange coincidences, and whispers Ariella couldn't place. Wherever she turned, it felt like something—or someone—was watching.
But it wasn't until the morning of the Blackwood Charity Gala that things truly changed.
Damian had gone silent again, burying himself in ancient texts and books filled with symbols that shimmered faintly under candlelight. He barely ate, barely slept. And every time Ariella tried to reach him, his responses were clipped and cold, like the man who once melted under her touch had vanished behind an iron wall.
She found herself wandering the private library at the top floor of Blackwood Tower, trailing her fingers along the spines of books with names she couldn't read. A strange pulse—almost like music—echoed softly from behind the far bookshelf.
Drawn to it, she pushed the shelf gently... and to her surprise, it creaked open, revealing a narrow spiral staircase made of black stone, descending into darkness.
The pull was undeniable.
Step by step, she descended, silver dagger strapped to her thigh, heart hammering louder than her footsteps. The air grew colder. The shadows grew thicker.
At the bottom, a single chamber stretched before her—circular, domed, lit by torches that seemed to burn without fire.
At the center stood a mirror, tall and ancient, framed in twisted gold and obsidian. But what chilled her wasn't her own reflection.
It was the man in the mask standing behind her image.
Ariella spun, dagger drawn, but the room was empty.
She looked back at the mirror—and he was still there.
The mask was bone-white, featureless except for two golden eyes that glowed from within. The figure raised one gloved hand and placed it against the mirror.
And then, he spoke.
> "He was never meant to love. But you... you broke the seal."
Ariella stepped closer, swallowing her fear. "Who are you?"
The masked figure tilted his head, as if amused.
> "I am the Warden of the Curse. The keeper of what should remain buried. And you... you are the crack in the lock."
The mirror trembled.
> "He cannot have you. He knows this. But he will keep you anyway. And the moment he does... he'll lose everything."
And then, the mirror cracked—splintering like ice.
Ariella stumbled back, and when she blinked, the figure was gone. Just her reflection remained, framed by broken glass.
Behind her, footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Damian appeared, breathless, eyes wide with panic. "You weren't supposed to come down here."
"I saw him," Ariella said, chest heaving. "The man in the white mask. He spoke to me."
Damian paled. "Then it's already started."
"What has?"
He looked her dead in the eyes.
> "The prophecy. The final stage of the curse."
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