Chapter 1
Rain lashed the forest like sharp knives, drumming against the roof of Lyra's small, secluded cottage. She pulled her shawl tighter, feeling the damp seep through her sleeves. Most nights were quiet, lonely even, but tonight carried a pulse of something… unnatural.
A sudden crash of thunder shook the trees, followed by a low, agonized groan. Lyra froze, heart hammering. Heavens, that sounded like… human. Or worse.
She grabbed her lantern and stepped outside, boots sinking into the mud. That's when she saw him: a man, half-collapsed against a twisted tree, blood streaking his pale skin, eyes wild and golden like a storm.
"You… you're bleeding," she whispered, approaching cautiously. He barely responded, clutching a blade so black it seemed to swallow the faint light of her lantern. Not ordinary steel. Cursed steel.
"I… need… help," he gasped. His voice was a low rasp, almost a growl, but there was something in it—magnetism, danger. A pull Lyra couldn't explain.
Against every instinct screaming to run, Lyra knelt beside him. Her hands glowed faint silver as she pressed them to his wounds. Pain and magic intertwined, singing a strange, haunting melody. That's when it happened: the cursed blade pulsed in response, and Lyra felt a jolt of fire race through her veins.
It wasn't just healing him. It was binding her to him. Pain became desire, fear became fascination, and something dark stirred in her chest. She had heard of such curses in old tales, whispered in shadowed corners of the kingdom, but never thought she'd meet one.
The man's golden eyes fixed on hers, unblinking. "Lyra," he breathed, as if he knew her name before she even spoke it. "You… shouldn't touch me."
"I can't leave you to die," she said, heart hammering. But even as she spoke, a dangerous thought slithered through her mind: What if this binding… is permanent?
Outside, the storm raged, and the forest seemed to lean closer, curious, hungry. Inside the cottage, two hearts beat unnaturally close, one human, one cursed. By the time Lyra bandaged the last wound, she knew—this was no ordinary encounter. Their lives, their hearts… were now tangled in a darkness neither fully understood.
And somewhere deep within, she felt the first prickling of what would become twisted, intoxicating obsession.