Updated Mar 10, 2026 • ~9 min read
Two weeks until the full moon.
Sera wakes to find a note slipped under her door.
Library. After breakfast. I have something to show you. —D
She smiles despite herself.
These notes have become routine. Little communications throughout the day.
Signs that Damien is thinking about her.
That she’s not alone in this.
She dresses quickly and goes to the library.
Finds Damien already there.
Surrounded by books. Papers. Research materials.
“What’s all this?” she asks.
“Curse-breaking research. I’ve been compiling everything I know. Everything I’ve tried. Thought maybe fresh eyes might see something I’ve missed.”
Sera sits beside him.
Looks through the materials.
Accounts of transformation curses. Folklore. Magical theory. Eyewitness reports.
“Have you found anything promising?”
“Not yet. Every source says the same thing: true love breaks the curse. But none explain how. Or what happens if it doesn’t work.”
“What happened with Lilith? Exactly?”
Damien leans back.
“She tried during a transformation. Confronted the beast. Declared her love. The curse… reacted. It felt like the magic was testing her. Pushing back. The beast became more aggressive. Targeted her specifically. She barely escaped with her life.”
“But the curse didn’t break?”
“No. Either her love wasn’t strong enough, or the curse was too powerful. Maybe both.”
Sera flips through pages.
“What if we’re approaching this wrong? What if it’s not just about loving you? What if you have to love yourself?”
Damien looks at her sharply.
“What do you mean?”
“The curse feeds on your guilt. Your self-hatred. What if that’s the real power? You believing you’re a monster?”
“I am a monster.”
“See? You can’t even consider another possibility. You’ve accepted the curse’s narrative. That you’re irredeemable. Unlovable. A beast.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Is it? Or is that what Isolde wants you to believe?”
Damien stands. Paces.
“You’re saying I’m enabling the curse by hating myself?”
“I’m saying maybe the curse can’t be broken by someone else loving you. Maybe you have to love yourself first.”
Damien laughs bitterly.
“How am I supposed to love this?” He gestures to his scarred face. “To love the thing that killed Catherine? That destroys everything it touches?”
“By forgiving yourself.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to try.”
“Why? What difference does it make?”
Sera stands. Walks to him.
“Because you can’t break a curse if you don’t believe you deserve to be free.”
Damien stares at her.
“You sound very certain for someone who’s only been here a month.”
“Sometimes an outsider sees things more clearly.”
“Or sometimes an outsider is naive.”
But there’s no heat in his words.
Just exhaustion.
“I’ve spent ten years trying to break this curse,” he says quietly. “Ten years of research. Rituals. Consultations. Nothing works. Maybe it’s not meant to be broken.”
“Or maybe you’ve been fighting it the wrong way.”
“And you think you can do better?”
“I think we can do better. Together.”
Damien looks at her.
And something shifts in his expression.
“You really believe that, don’t you? That we can win.”
“I have to. Because if I don’t believe it, what’s the point?”
“The point is survival. Endurance. Making it through one more day.”
“That’s not living. That’s just existing.”
“It’s all I know how to do anymore.”
Sera reaches for his hand.
He doesn’t pull away.
“Then let me teach you. Let me show you what living looks like again.”
“How?”
“Small things. Start small. When’s the last time you went outside during the day? Walked the grounds? Felt sunlight?”
Damien considers.
“Years. Maybe five? I avoid daylight when I can. The villagers… they talk.”
“Forget the villagers. Let’s walk. Right now.”
“Sera—”
“No arguments. We’re going outside.”
They walk the estate grounds.
It’s cold. Overcast. But still daylight.
The dead forest surrounds them. Skeletal trees reaching toward gray skies.
But Damien breathes deeper out here.
Seems more relaxed.
“I forgot how much I missed this,” he admits. “Being outside without fear.”
“Why would you fear it?”
“Judgment. The villagers see me as the cursed lord. The monster in the manor. I can hear them whispering even from a distance. Enhanced senses, remember?”
“What do they say?”
“That I’m dangerous. Unstable. A blight on the region. They’re not wrong.”
“They’re not right either.”
They walk in silence for a while.
Then Sera asks: “What was this place like before? When the forest was alive?”
Damien’s expression softens with memory.
“Beautiful. Oak trees. Willows by the stream. Gardens full of roses and lavender. Catherine loved the gardens. Spent hours there.”
“We could rebuild them. After the curse breaks.”
“If it breaks.”
“When it breaks.”
Damien stops walking.
Looks at her.
“You’re relentlessly optimistic. It’s annoying.”
“Someone has to be. You’re relentlessly pessimistic.”
“I’m realistic.”
“You’re defeatist.”
Despite himself, Damien smiles.
“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”
“The most dysfunctional pair in England.”
“Probably the world.”
They keep walking.
And for a moment, Sera can almost imagine what this place could be.
Trees blooming. Gardens thriving. Life returning.
Damien happy.
Free.
It feels possible.
Maybe that’s naive.
But hope has to start somewhere.
That evening, they have dinner in the library again.
The conversation flows easily now.
No more awkward silences. No more guarded responses.
Just two people getting to know each other.
“Tell me about your mother,” Damien says.
Sera stiffens.
“Why?”
“You never talk about her. You mention your father. Your siblings. But never her.”
“She’s dead.”
“I know. But who was she?”
Sera looks into the fire.
“Kind. Gentle. Too good for my father.”
“How did she die?”
“Fever. When I was ten. One day she was fine. The next, burning up. Gone within a week.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I barely remember her now. Just… impressions. The smell of lavender. Her singing while she worked. The way she’d braid my hair.”
Sera’s voice cracks.
“After she died, everything changed. Father started gambling. Stopped caring about us. I had to raise Edmund and Beatrice. Be the mother they didn’t have.”
“That’s too much responsibility for a child.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You never seem to have choices.”
“Until now.”
Damien meets her eyes.
“Is that what this is? A choice?”
“Yes. I’m choosing to be here. Choosing to help you. Choosing to hope.”
“Even though it might kill you?”
“Even though.”
Damien sets down his wine glass.
“You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever met or the most foolish.”
“Marcus said the same thing.”
“He’s right.”
They sit in silence.
Then Damien speaks.
“I’m grateful. That you’re here. That you haven’t run. That you’re trying.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do. Because I don’t deserve your kindness. Your hope. Your faith.”
“Stop deciding what you deserve. That’s not your choice to make.”
“Whose choice is it?”
“Mine. And I say you deserve better than a lifetime of isolation and guilt.”
Damien shakes his head.
But he’s smiling.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
Later that night, Sera is reading when she hears music.
Piano. Coming from somewhere in the manor.
She follows the sound.
Finds Damien in the music room.
Playing beautifully. A melancholic piece she doesn’t recognize.
She watches from the doorway.
He’s lost in the music. Fingers moving across keys with practiced ease.
The mask sits on a table nearby. Forgotten.
Just Damien. Unguarded. Vulnerable. Human.
The piece ends.
He notices her.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Sera says.
“You didn’t. I was just… remembering.”
“The music?”
“Catherine loved this piece. Made me play it constantly. I haven’t touched the piano since she died.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“She was beautiful. Kind. Everything I’m not.”
“You’re kind too. When you let yourself be.”
Damien stands.
“You give me too much credit.”
“You don’t give yourself enough.”
They stand in the dusty music room.
Moonlight streaming through windows.
The piano silent now.
“Play something else,” Sera says.
“What?”
“Something happy. Not melancholic. Something from before.”
“I don’t remember happy music.”
“Then improvise.”
Damien hesitates.
Then sits back at the piano.
And plays.
Not perfectly. He’s rusty. Out of practice.
But it’s lighter. Brighter.
A melody that sounds like hope.
Sera closes her eyes.
Listens.
And for the first time since arriving at this cursed manor, she feels genuinely happy.
Not surviving. Not enduring.
Actually happy.
The moment doesn’t last.
It never does.
Because as Damien plays, Sera feels it.
A change in the air.
A coldness that has nothing to do with temperature.
She opens her eyes.
And sees something in the window.
A face. Pale. Ancient. Female.
Watching them.
Sera gasps.
The face vanishes.
Damien stops playing.
“What’s wrong?”
“Someone was watching. In the window.”
Damien goes pale.
Rushes to the window. Looks out.
Nothing there.
But Sera knows what she saw.
“Describe her,” Damien demands.
“Old. White hair. Black eyes. Looking at us with… hatred.”
Damien’s hands shake.
“Isolde.”
“The witch?”
“She’s watching. She knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That we’re getting closer. That there’s something between us. The curse must have alerted her.”
Sera’s heart pounds.
“What does this mean?”
“It means we’re running out of time. If Isolde is here, she’ll try to stop us. Try to kill you before you can break the curse.”
“Then we fight her.”
“You don’t fight Isolde. You can only hope to survive her.”
Damien grabs Sera’s shoulders.
“You need to leave. Tomorrow. Go back to your family. Get as far from here as possible.”
“No.”
“Sera, this isn’t a game anymore. Isolde will kill you without hesitation. I can’t protect you from her.”
“I don’t need protection. I need you to trust me.”
“I do trust you. That’s why I’m telling you to run.”
Sera pulls away.
“I’m not running. I’m not leaving. And I’m not letting some ancient witch scare me away from what we’re building.”
“What we’re building will get you killed.”
“Then I’ll die fighting. Better than living in fear.”
Damien stares at her.
Sees the determination.
The stubborn refusal to back down.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says.
“Or your salvation. We’ll find out.”
He pulls her close.
Holds her.
Like she’s the only solid thing in a crumbling world.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers. “Not you too.”
“You won’t.”
But even as she says it, Sera knows the truth.
Isolde is coming.
The curse is fighting back.
And the next full moon is less than two weeks away.
Everything is about to get worse.
Much, much worse.
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