The dining room felt different that evening.
Not brighter—not lighter exactly—but alive in a way it hadn't been in a long time.
The long table, usually an empty stretch of polished wood, was set for three. Plates were warm. Candles flickered softly, their flames steady and calm. The heavy curtains were drawn just enough to let in the last amber traces of sunset, painting the walls in muted gold.
Izana sat at the table.
Not in his room.
Not in bed.
Not isolated.
At the table.
Leah noticed the way his shoulders were held carefully upright, the subtle tension in his posture as if he were afraid the moment might be taken from him if he relaxed too much. He looked better—stronger. There was more weight to his frame now, more presence in the way he occupied space.
But not enough.
His wrists were still too thin. His arms still lacked the strength they once had. He wasn't himself yet—not fully.
Elias sat across from them, hands folded over his cane, watching quietly.
"You don't have to finish everything," Elias said calmly. "This isn't a test."
Izana huffed faintly. "Feels like one."
Leah smiled softly and took her seat beside him, close enough that their sleeves brushed. "You're doing great just being here."
He glanced toward her. "You say that about everything."
"That's because it's usually true."
The first few minutes passed easily.
Izana lifted his fork. Ate slowly. Carefully. Each bite required concentration—coordination, strength, patience. He refused help, even when his movements were stiff, even when his grip tightened around the utensil like he was afraid of dropping it.
Leah didn't push.
She just watched.
After a while, she noticed it.
The tremor.
At first it was subtle—a faint shake in his wrist when he lifted the fork. Then it worsened, spreading through his forearm. His grip tightened, knuckles paling as he stubbornly raised it again.
Again.
Again.
His breathing grew shallow.
"Izana," Leah murmured quietly.
"I'm fine," he said immediately. "I can do this."
She hesitated, then gently set her own knife and fork down.
"I know you can," she said. "Let me help anyway."
Before he could protest, she slid her hand beneath his—warm, steady—supporting his wrist from below. Her touch was light, careful not to startle him.
Together, they lifted the fork.
Izana's breath caught—not from pain, but from the quiet intimacy of it. He leaned forward slightly and took the bite.
He swallowed.
And then—surprisingly—laughed under his breath. "That was… easier."
Leah smiled. "See?"
Elias watched the exchange closely.
After a moment, he cleared his throat softly. "Leah," he said.
She looked up. "Yes, sir?"
"…Thank you," Elias said quietly. "For being patient with him."
Leah blinked, caught off guard. Then she shook her head gently. "I'm not being patient. I just care."
Izana's hand stilled.
The curse stirred.
At first, it was just pressure—a familiar tightening behind his eyes, a faint ringing in his ears. He ignored it, focused on the table, on Leah's hand still beneath his.
Then it snapped.
Pain exploded through his chest.
Not sharp—not clean—but crushing, overwhelming, like his lungs had forgotten how to exist. His body seized, breath hitching violently.
"I—." he tried to speak.
Instead, he coughed.
A harsh, convulsive sound tore from his throat. He doubled forward, coughing again—harder this time.
Leah froze. "Izana?"
He coughed again—and this time, dark red stained his lips.
Elias was on his feet instantly.
"That's it," Elias said sharply. "Dante—now!"
Izana's vision swam. The room tilted violently as his strength vanished all at once. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he collapsed sideways, landing on his side with a pained gasp.
Leah dropped to her knees beside him. "Izana... hey—look at me—."
He couldn't.
The curse surged fully, brutally, ripping through him with no restraint left. His body shook violently, muscles locking, breath coming in ragged, broken pulls.
Elias turned sharply toward the doorway. "Prepare the bunker. Chains. Now."
Footsteps thundered closer.
Dante rushed in, chains clutched tightly in his hands, eyes already dark with understanding. "It's early," he said under his breath.
"Two weeks," Elias replied grimly. "It's activated two weeks early."
Izana forced himself upright, staggering to his feet despite the pain. Blood stained his sleeve where he'd wiped his mouth. His breathing was wild now—his head snapping toward every sound.
His posture changed.
Predatory.
The curse was in control.
He turned slowly.
Leah.
The curse locked onto her instantly.
Target.
Threat.
Prey.
Izana took a step toward her—unsteady, weak, but relentless. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if preparing to grab.
Leah didn't move.
"Izana," she said softly.
The sound of his name cut through the chaos for half a second.
His steps faltered.
The curse recoiled—just briefly.
His shoulders shook. "Leah…?" His voice cracked, human again for a heartbeat.
Then the curse slammed back harder.
Dante lunged.
Before Izana could move again, Dante tackled him to the floor, pinning him down with practiced precision. Izana snarled—raw, feral—and thrashed violently beneath him.
"Get the fuck off me!" Izana shouted, panic bleeding through the fury. "Don't touch me—don't you fucking touch me!"
Chains snapped shut around his wrists.
Izana screamed—not in pain, but in terror, sweat pouring down his face as the physical contact overwhelmed him. "Stop it! Fuck—stop! Get your hands off me!"
"Hold him!" Elias barked.
Guards rushed in, gripping Izana's arms, lifting him despite his violent resistance. He kicked weakly, body shaking, voice hoarse and breaking as he swore at them.
"Let go of me, you bastards!" he shouted. "I said stop! Don't—don't fucking touch me!"
"Leah—!" His voice cracked desperately. "Don't let them—shit—please—!"
Leah stood frozen, hands shaking, tears burning her eyes as she watched them drag him away.
"Izana!" she cried.
He twisted violently, head turning toward her voice. "Run," he rasped. "Please—run—get the hell away from me—!"
Then they were gone.
The doors slammed open. Cold night air rushed in. The sound of boots echoed across stone.
Leah followed to the doorway just in time to see them dragging him across the garden toward the concrete bunker—the steel door already yawning open like a waiting mouth.
Izana fought until the very last second, swearing hoarsely, body trembling with fear and rage.
Then the door slammed shut.
The lock engaged.
Silence crashed down.
Leah stood there, breath shaking, chest aching as if something inside her had been torn away.
Elias came to stand beside her.
"It had to be done," he said quietly.
She nodded—but it didn't ease the pain.
"I know," she whispered. "I just… I hate seeing him like that."
"So do I," Elias replied.
They stood together in the quiet, staring out at the bunker silhouetted against the dark garden.
Inside it, Izana raged.
Outside it, Leah hurt.
And the curse—finally unleashed—had drawn its line.
The fight was no longer theoretical.
It had begun.