Adrian stormed into the dimly lit chamber, his fists clenched at his sides. The ancient walls of his grandmother’s secluded hideout were lined with bookshelves, the air thick with the scent of burning incense and something older—something mystical.Catherine Blackwood sat in her usual chair, her piercing silver eyes meeting his with an unsettling calmness. She had been waiting for him.“Grandmother,” Adrian said through gritted teeth, the frustration and exhaustion evident in his voice. “The key didn’t work.”Catherine inhaled deeply, exhaling through her nose. “I know.”His body went rigid. “What do you mean, you know?”She sighed and slowly rose from her seat, stepping toward a massive wooden chest in the corner of the room. “I told you the curse was more than just a simple soul swap. It was never just about returning the key.”Adrian’s patience snapped. “Then why did you let us believe it was?”Catherine opened the chest with a creak, pulling out an aged book bound in black leather
The woods were quieter than usual.Adrian—his face Adrian, but his soul still Damion—walked ahead, each crunch of leaf and twig beneath his feet dragging time out painfully. He had returned the key. Nothing had changed. His body was still somewhere, hollow, and his brother’s soul hadn’t returned to his rightful form. The curse hadn’t lifted.He clenched his fists.Behind him, Catherine walked with slow steps, leaning slightly on her cane, her breath heavy as though the forest air choked her instead of nourishing her. She could feel it—something was still wrong. The key may have been returned, but the balance hadn’t been restored.“Why?” Adrian muttered as he stopped and turned to her. “Why didn’t it work?”Catherine looked up at him, guilt swelling in her chest. “Because there’s one truth you haven’t faced yet.”His jaw tightened. “Don’t start with riddles again, Grandma. What other truth except from the one you had already told me?”She looked around the trees, the same ones her ance
The room was dimly lit, the pale yellow glow from the antique ceiling lamp casting elongated shadows across the cracked marble floor. Adrian—no, Damion in Adrian’s body—stood with his arms crossed in front of his grandmother, his jaw clenched tight, his knuckles pale from how hard he was gripping his biceps.Catherine looked older than she had just yesterday. The weight of secrets, the ache of time, and the fear of what might come had lined her face more deeply than usual. Her frail hands trembled, but her voice—when it came—was steady.“You want to know the truth,” she said. “The entire truth.”Adrian nodded slowly. “I deserve it. After everything that’s happened—after nearly dying to return the key—you owe me that much.”She sighed, walking past him toward the window, drawing the curtain just enough to glance at the darkening sky. “The curse… wasn’t just about power. Or punishment. It was about blood. A blood feud that started long before either of you were born.”Adrian frowned. “Y
Before Adrian Goes into the Forest For A Second TimeThe sterile white walls of the hospital room stood still, cold and indifferent. A soft beeping sound from the heart monitor pulsed rhythmically—calm but weighted with tension. For the first time since the curse had torn their realities apart, Damion and Adrian stood face to face… just not in the bodies they were born into.Adrian—trapped in Damion’s body—stood at the far end of the room, his eyes scanning the man on the hospital bed. Damion—trapped in Adrian’s body—was finally lucid, the madness having passed like a violent storm. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths, but his eyes, the familiar hazel ones Adrian once saw in the mirror, burned with awareness.Damion slowly sat up, still weak but alert. “So…” His voice was hoarse but carried the same bite it always had. “This is what I look like now.”Adrian’s throat tightened. He took a cautious step forward. “Yeah. That’s you in there.”A long silence followed. The weight of ev
The night was eerily silent.No wind rustled the trees. No birds cried from the branches. Even the leaves beneath Adrian’s boots felt too quiet, like the forest itself was holding its breath.They had reached the clearing—the place the curse began.The ancient stones circled the edge of a dark, sunken patch of earth. It looked almost like a grave, but it was something older. Older than them. Older than their blood feud. Older than the sins they inherited.Damion stood at the edge of the circle, his body trembling—not from fear, but from anticipation. He wasn’t alone. Adrian, inside the body Damion once called his own, stood opposite him, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his face.“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” Adrian whispered. “After everything… we’re here.”Damion’s lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “I thought I’d hate the sight of you when this moment came. But now… all I feel is guilt.”Adrian stepped forward. “Don’t. We both made mistakes. I didn’t fight
(Previously)The moon sat high in the sky like an ancient witness, veiled by slow-moving clouds that pulsed with the rhythm of the cursed forest’s breath. Trees stood tall and silent, not daring to rustle as if the wind had taken an oath of silence. The stillness was unnatural. A world frozen in expectation.Adrian stood at the edge of the sacred altar. Beneath his feet, the moss-draped stones of the Queen’s circle gleamed faintly, pulsing with a glow that beat in time with his heart. But it wasn’t his heart—it was Damion’s. His hands, strong and familiar, trembled faintly. The key, ancient and humming, sat cold in his palm.And then—he felt him.Damion’s body approached from the shadows, but inside it walked a stranger. No longer fragmented or wild, the soul that belonged to Damion moved with quiet purpose.“Adrian…” the voice cracked softly.Adrian turned. Across the altar, Damion now stood in Adrian’s old body. The change was evident, not just in posture, but in the clarity behind
The rhythm of the monitor pulsed like a heartbeat through the stillness of the hospital room. Outside, the storm that had brewed during the ritual faded to a gentle drizzle, raindrops whispering against the windowpane like prayers carried on the wind.Carmela didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her fingers hovered in the air inches from Damion’s cheek, breath caught in her lungs like a balloon never released. She had heard him—his voice, rough and weak, but real. Alive. Her name had formed on his lips like a promise remembered.He blinked slowly, lashes heavy, as though dragging himself up from the depths of a different world.“Carmela…” he whispered again, eyes unfocused.She fell to her knees beside the bed, the tears already flooding her cheeks before she realized they’d started. “I’m here,” she breathed, catching his hand, cold and limp but tethered to hers now. “You’re here. You’re really here…”Lucas stirred on the other side of the room, still weak from his earlier injury. He rubbed the bac
The rain outside had calmed to a soft mist by morning. The filtered gray light from the clouds pushed through the tall hospital windows, casting a pale silver glow across the quiet room.Damion lay in the bed, awake, staring at the ceiling—not lost in some supernatural war anymore, not caught between life and death—but present. Real. Human.Carmela sat beside him, her fingers gently tracing over his as if grounding herself in the truth. For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no rituals, no keys, no curses. Just breath. Just stillness. Just them.“You haven’t said anything in a while,” she murmured.“I’m afraid if I speak too soon,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady, “it might all disappear.”She smiled softly. “You’re not dreaming.”“Feels like I am.” He turned his head to look at her. “You’re here. And I’m not… cursed or possessed or running through a forest like a lunatic.”She chuckled—just a little. “No. Just emotionally wrecked, mildly traumatized, and defini
Isabelle’s POV The morning sunlight streamed through the office windows, casting a golden glow over my desk. But the warmth of the day couldn’t chase away the chill settling in my chest. The past few weeks had felt like walking a tightrope, with secrets and lies swirling just beneath my feet. Every step forward felt shaky, every move potentially catastrophic. And now this. The anonymous message had arrived in the middle of the night, a single line of text from an untraceable number: “Kaia and Walter are closer than you think. Be careful.” I’d read it a dozen times, each repetition driving the meaning deeper into my mind. Kaia and Walter. Together. It wasn’t impossible. They were both manipulative, both willing to do whatever it took to get what they wanted. But working together? That changed everything. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen of my phone, the message still open. My instincts screamed that this wasn’t just some baseless rumor. There was int
Kaia’s POV Walter Ryder’s office was as intimidating as the man himself. The rich mahogany desk, the cold steel accents, the sharp angles of the furniture—it all screamed power and control. It was a room designed to make you feel small. But I wouldn’t let him see me flinch. I walked in, heels clicking against the polished floor, my head held high. Walter stood by the window, his back to me, staring out at the sprawling city skyline. “Kaia,” he said, his voice cold and measured. “I hope you have better news this time.” I took a breath, steadying myself. “The situation is under control.” He turned, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like Damion is unraveling, Isabelle is still in the picture, and your little stunt with the boy has only made things worse.” I swallowed hard, refusing to let his words rattle me. “It was a temporary misstep. Damion will come back to me. He always does.” Walter’s laugh was dry, almost mocki
Kaia’s POV Walter Ryder’s office was as intimidating as the man himself. The rich mahogany desk, the cold steel accents, the sharp angles of the furniture—it all screamed power and control. It was a room designed to make you feel small. But I wouldn’t let him see me flinch. I walked in, heels clicking against the polished floor, my head held high. Walter stood by the window, his back to me, staring out at the sprawling city skyline. “Kaia,” he said, his voice cold and measured. “I hope you have better news this time.” I took a breath, steadying myself. “The situation is under control.” He turned, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like Damion is unraveling, Isabelle is still in the picture, and your little stunt with the boy has only made things worse.” I swallowed hard, refusing to let his words rattle me. “It was a temporary misstep. Damion will come back to me. He always does.” Walter’s laugh was dry, almost mocki
Isabelle’s POV The kiss was a mistake. I knew it the moment it happened. But it didn’t stop me from leaning into it, from letting Damion’s hands cradle my face, from feeling that dangerous, magnetic pull he’d always had over me. It was reckless. Uncontrolled. Desperate. And then— “Isabelle?” The sound of Brian’s voice sliced through the air like a blade. I wrenched back from Damion, my breath catching as the heat between us shattered into a thousand pieces of cold, hard reality. Brian stood frozen in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock and hurt. The papers he’d been holding slipped slightly in his hand, as if he’d forgotten he was even holding them. No. No, no, no. “Brian—” I started, scrambling to fix this, to explain— But he was already backing away, his expression hardening as he swallowed, forcing some calm into his voice. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll, uh…I’ll wait outside.” And just like that, he turned and disappeared from
Isabelle’s POV The flashing blue and red lights outside my home were almost blinding, their glow casting distorted shadows across the walls. The tension that had held me captive for days still lingered, but Nathan was finally safe. He was asleep upstairs, his tiny body curled up under the blankets where he belonged. Yet, the weight in my chest refused to lift. A uniformed officer stood in front of me, his expression calm but probing. I knew they wanted answers—real ones—but I wasn’t ready to give them. I had my answers. I just couldn’t say them out loud. Damion. “Ms. Everett,” the officer began gently, flipping through his notepad. “I understand this has been an overwhelming situation, but we need to be sure we’re closing this case properly. Are you certain there’s nothing else you’d like to report? No new suspicions about who took your son?” I felt Damion’s presence behind me, lingering by the doorway, tense and silent. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding so loud it
Kaia’s POV The plan was unraveling faster than I had anticipated. When Damion stormed out after returning the boy, I knew things had shifted. I felt it in the way his voice trembled when he’d confronted me. The guilt. The hesitation. He was slipping away. And it was her fault. Isabelle. Always so righteous, so defiant, making him question everything I had carefully constructed. I paced the length of my penthouse, the sound of my heels echoing off the marble floors. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered beneath the night sky, a perfect illusion of peace. But inside? Everything felt like it was closing in. Damion was supposed to be mine. I had done everything. Stood by him when his life crumbled. Cleaned up the mess after Isabelle abandoned him. I had been patient, understanding, even when he had made it clear she was still haunting him. And now? She was back, unraveling him piece by piece. And Walter—Walter was only making it worse. The call
Isabelle’s POV The house felt unbearably quiet without Nathan. Every tick of the clock on the wall seemed louder, each second pressing down on me with suffocating weight. The walls felt closer, the air heavier, the silence almost mocking. I sat curled on the couch, staring blankly at the framed picture of Nathan on the mantel. His bright smile, the way his eyes sparkled with innocence and trust—it was too much. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. Crying meant giving in to the fear clawing at my chest. It meant accepting the nightmare Walter had pulled me into. And I couldn’t break. Not when my son was out there, scared and alone. The sharp knock on the door jolted me out of my daze. My pulse spiked. I shot to my feet, half stumbling as I rushed toward the door. Please. Let it be the police. Let it be news. Let it be— I swung the door open, and my heart stopped. Damion stood there. And in his arms, cradled carefully, was Nathan. I couldn’t
Kaia’s POV It had all started with a whisper. The first time Damion had mentioned the child, I knew something was wrong. The way his voice caught when he asked about Nathan, the way his eyes lingered on the boy as if searching for a reflection of himself—it was like watching a man unravel in slow motion. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Because I knew, deep down, that if Nathan was Damion’s son, everything I had worked for—the life I’d carefully built with him—would fall apart. So I did what I always did. I found a way to control the narrative. It hadn’t been difficult. Manipulation never was when you understood a man’s vulnerabilities. And Damion’s greatest vulnerability was his desperate need for closure. I hadn’t even needed to convince him. “It’s the only way,” I had whispered to him weeks ago, the night we’d sat in his study, the tension thick between us. “If she won’t tell you the truth, we have to find it ourselves.” And he’d agreed. But now, a
Isabelle’s POV The photograph trembled in my hands. Nathan—my sweet boy—blindfolded, vulnerable, and so far out of reach. The handwritten message beneath his image echoed in my mind. “You were warned. Now listen.” A cold knot twisted in my stomach. Walter. This was him. It had to be. I felt Damion’s presence behind me before I heard him speak. His voice was low, dangerous. “Let me see it.” I handed him the photograph with shaky fingers, my breath shallow. The moment his eyes scanned the image, his entire body stiffened. His jaw clenched so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding. The hand holding the photo curled into a fist, crumpling the paper slightly as his gaze darkened with rage. “Damion,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What do we do? He’s my son. Our son—” “What?!” He turned sharply, his eyes burning with something unreadable. “Nathan is my son?!” I nodded nervously. I couldn’t lie to him anymore. It was for the best. He had to know the truth. If he’s