Updated Mar 10, 2026 • ~8 min read
Five days until the full moon.
Damien is deteriorating.
Sera notices it in small ways.
His hands shake at breakfast. His eyes flash reflective in certain light. His temper is shorter.
The beast is rising early.
“Are you eating?” she asks.
They’re in the library. Research spread across every surface.
“Not hungry.”
“Damien, you need to keep your strength up.”
“Food doesn’t help. Nothing helps at this point.”
He looks exhausted. Haunted.
“Talk to me. What are you feeling?”
“Rage. Constant, simmering rage. At the curse. At Isolde. At myself for dragging you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me. I chose to stay.”
“Semantics.”
Sera closes her book. Walks to him.
“How can I help?”
“You can’t. This is my burden.”
“Our burden. We’re partners, remember?”
Damien looks at her.
And she sees the war in his eyes.
The man fighting to stay in control. The beast pushing for dominance.
“I don’t want you to see me like this. Weak. Losing control.”
“You’re not weak. You’re fighting a magical curse designed to destroy you. There’s a difference.”
“I feel weak.”
“Then lean on me. Let me be strong for both of us.”
Damien pulls her close.
Buries his face in her neck.
“You smell like lavender. Did you know that?”
“My mother’s favorite scent.”
“It calms me. When everything else is chaos, you calm me.”
Sera holds him.
Feeling the tension in his body. The tremors he’s trying to hide.
“What happens if I lose control before the full moon?” he asks quietly.
“You won’t.”
“But if I do?”
“Then Marcus and I will handle it. Lock you in the tower early. Whatever it takes.”
“I could hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. Because even in beast form, you didn’t kill me last time. Some part of you recognizes me. Protects me.”
“Or the curse was testing you. Seeing if you’re worth killing.”
“Either way, I’m still alive. That’s something.”
Four days until the full moon.
Marcus finds Sera in the hallway.
“We need to talk, my lady. About precautions.”
They go to his study.
Small. Organized. The only room in the manor that doesn’t feel cursed.
“Lord Corvus’s transformation is accelerating,” Marcus says. “I’ve seen this before. With Lilith. The curse escalates when he cares for someone.”
“We’ve discussed this.”
“Have you discussed what happens if he fully transforms before the moon? If the beast takes over days early?”
“That can happen?”
“It’s happened once before. Year four of the curse. The transformation started three days early. Lasted a week. By the time it ended, half the manor was destroyed.”
Sera’s stomach drops.
“What triggered it?”
“He’d started corresponding with a woman. Nothing romantic. Just letters. But the curse sensed connection. Affection. It attacked preemptively.”
“And what happened to the woman?”
Marcus’s expression darkens.
“She never made it to the manor. Died in a carriage accident on the way here. The curse ensured she wouldn’t arrive.”
“You think the curse killed her?”
“I know it did. The curse won’t allow Lord Corvus to be happy. To connect. The moment someone threatens that isolation, the curse removes them.”
Sera processes this.
“So I’m in danger even without Isolde’s intervention?”
“Yes. The curse itself is actively trying to kill you. Isolde is just… accelerating the timeline.”
“What do I do?”
“Leave. Tonight. Before the full moon. Before the curse completes whatever it’s planning.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“My lady—”
“Marcus, I appreciate the warning. But I’m not running. Damien needs me. And I need to see this through.”
Marcus sighs.
“You’re as stubborn as Lord Corvus. No wonder the curse hates you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s an observation. And a warning. Be prepared. The next few days are going to be dangerous.”
Three days until the full moon.
Sera wakes to screaming.
Damien.
In the east wing.
She runs toward the sound.
Marcus intercepts her.
“Don’t. He’s transforming. Partially. It’s too dangerous.”
“I can help—”
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
The screaming continues.
Anguished. Inhuman.
“What’s happening to him?”
“The curse is punishing him. For caring about you. This is what it does. Causes pain. Makes him suffer.”
Sera tries to push past Marcus.
He blocks her.
“My lady, please. If you go in there, the beast will kill you. Or Lord Corvus will never forgive himself for letting you see him like that. Either way, you lose.”
Sera stops struggling.
“How long does this last?”
“Hours. Until he loses consciousness or the partial transformation completes.”
“And then?”
“Then he wakes up hating himself more. Begging you to leave. Convinced he’s beyond saving.”
The screaming fades.
Replaced by sobbing.
Raw. Broken.
Sera’s heart shatters.
“I need to see him. After. When it’s safe.”
“Give him time. Let him regain control.”
“How much time?”
“Until evening. I’ll send word when he’s ready.”
Evening comes.
Marcus escorts Sera to Damien’s chambers.
She’s never been in the east wing properly. Never seen where he lives.
The room is sparse. Almost monastic.
No decoration. No comfort. Just bare necessities.
Like he doesn’t believe he deserves anything more.
Damien sits by the window. Staring out at nothing.
His shirt is torn. Scratches on his arms from where he clawed himself.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says without looking.
“Too bad. I’m here anyway.”
“I almost killed Marcus this morning. During the partial transformation. If he hadn’t locked himself in the armory, I would have torn him apart.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Luck. Not control.”
Sera sits beside him.
He flinches at her proximity.
“Don’t. I can smell blood on you. The beast wants… God, Sera, you need to leave. Now.”
“Not happening.”
“I’m dangerous.”
“So am I.”
Despite everything, Damien almost smiles.
“You’re terrifying in a completely different way.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They sit in silence.
Then Damien speaks.
“The curse is winning. I can feel it. Every day, I have less control. More rage. More beast, less man.”
“Then we move up our timeline. Find Isolde before the full moon.”
“That’s insane.”
“Everything we’re doing is insane. At least this way we’re being proactive.”
“We don’t even know where she is.”
“Then we force her to come to us.”
Damien turns to face her.
“How?”
“We make noise. Do something that threatens the curse. Forces her hand.”
“Like what?”
Sera thinks.
Then: “We get married. Again. For real this time. Not a contract. A choice. A declaration that we’re choosing each other despite the curse.”
Damien stares at her.
“That’s either brilliant or suicidal.”
“Both, probably. But if the curse hates hope, hates love, hates connection—what better way to provoke it than a public declaration of commitment?”
“Isolde will attack.”
“Good. Then we’ll know where she is. And we can end this.”
“You’re talking about using ourselves as bait.”
“I’m talking about taking control instead of reacting. Forcing the enemy to fight on our terms.”
Damien is quiet for a long time.
Then: “If we do this, we do it tomorrow. Before the partial transformations get worse. While I still have some control.”
“Agreed.”
“And we prepare for war. Because Isolde will come with everything she has.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Damien takes her hand.
“This is a terrible plan.”
“You have a better one?”
“No.”
“Then terrible is what we’ve got.”
He kisses her knuckles.
“If we survive this, I’m going to marry you properly. With flowers and music and everything you deserve.”
“If we survive this, I’ll hold you to that.”
That night, they tell Marcus the plan.
He looks at them like they’ve lost their minds.
“You want to provoke Isolde? Deliberately?”
“Yes.”
“That’s suicide.”
“It’s strategy.”
“It’s insanity!”
Damien steps forward.
“Marcus, we can’t keep living like this. Waiting for her to strike. Waiting for the curse to win. At least this way, we fight on our terms.”
“And when she kills you both? What then?”
“Then we die trying. Better than living in fear.”
Marcus runs his hands over his face.
“You’re both fools.”
“Probably.”
“But brave fools. I’ll give you that.”
He looks at Sera.
“Lady Corvus, if we survive this, I’m retiring. My heart can’t take this level of stress.”
Despite everything, Sera laughs.
“Deal. After we break the curse, you can retire anywhere you want.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
They spend the rest of the night preparing.
Wards. Protections. Weapons.
Everything they can think of to fight an ancient witch and a magical curse.
It’s not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
But it’s all they have.
And sometimes, faith and desperation are the only weapons that matter.
Two days until the full moon.
Tomorrow, they’ll renew their vows.
Declare their choice.
Provoke the witch.
And either break the curse or die trying.
There’s no middle ground.
No safe option.
Just war.
And they’re walking into it with eyes wide open.
Terrified.
But together.
And maybe that’s enough.
Maybe love and hope and stubborn refusal to surrender are enough to tip the scales.
Or maybe they’re about to make the worst mistake of their lives.
Either way, tomorrow they’ll find out.
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