"The curse whispered in her veins, and she could no longer pretend it wasn't there."
Isolde stepped out into the crisp morning air, her basket heavy with chores. The town seemed unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that made every sound echo like a secret.
She walked past the bakery, the smell of fresh bread mingling with the faint mist of dawn. A few townsfolk glanced at her, whispering, but none could see the weight she carried — the shadow of dreams, the pull of a curse she could not name.
Everywhere she went, the shadow of her dreams lingered — faint whispers of his presence, a chill at the nape of her neck, the fleeting sense of being watched. She tried to shake it off, telling herself that the dreams were only dreams. Yet the pull of the curse was undeniable. It flowed in her blood, quickening her pulse.
At the market, she exchanged polite greetings with familiar faces, but the laughter and chatter of others felt distant, like it belonged to another world. Her mind kept drifting back to the shadowy figure in her dreams. The man whose eyes had haunted her nights — Valerian Ragnar.
A sudden flash of memory came unbidden: a glimpse of pale curls and blue eyes, the echo of Izabell from the past. Anger, fear, and a strange recognition stirred inside her. Why me? she thought, clenching her hands. Why am I cursed like this?
As she collected water from the well, a sudden drop in the air made her shiver. The streets were empty, yet she could feel him — a presence, subtle but sharp, lurking at the edges of perception.
Then, in the corner of the square, she saw him. Valerian stood there, partially hidden in shadow. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Her breath caught in her throat. He didn't move, didn't speak, yet she felt it — the same pull from her dreams, the same recognition, the same silent command that lingered in her mind.
Before she could step closer, he melted back into the shadows, leaving only a whisper of cold wind behind.
Isolde's hands trembled as she clutched her basket.
It's only the curse, she thought.
It's only me imagining it.
But deep down, she knew it was more. And that more… was only just beginning.