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# Cursed Heart
Ash tried to sleep, but dreams chased him down like hunters through the dark. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her: pale as moonlight, violet eyes full of sorrow, lips shaping his name as though she had always known him. When he woke, his chest was heavy, his pulse racing, and the feeling lingered—an ache he could not shake, like a mark carved into his soul.
Morning crept slowly across Crowhurst manor. The rain had begun, tapping against the high glass windows like impatient fingers. Ash rose from his bed and crossed to the window, his gaze falling toward the forest. Ebonvale stretched beyond the mist, endless and dark, calling him in a way nothing else ever had.
He should have been afraid. Instead, he felt restless. Drawn.
Nyra found him at breakfast, though he barely touched the food on his plate. She studied him carefully, as though trying to read his thoughts. “You’re thinking about her,” she said at last, quiet enough that their mother wouldn’t hear from the adjoining hall.
Ash didn’t deny it. “She knew my name.”
Nyra leaned closer, her eyes flickering with unease. “Ash… do you remember the stories Mother told us when we were little? About the cursed maiden of Ebonvale?”
He frowned. “Fairy tales to keep children out of the woods.”
“Are you so sure?” she whispered.
Before Ash could press her further, their mother entered, as commanding as always, and the conversation died in Nyra’s throat. Thalia’s presence was enough to silence any questions. Her sharp gaze lingered on Ash a moment too long before she took her place at the head of the table.
The rest of the meal passed in heavy silence.
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That night, Ash could not bear the weight of his unanswered questions any longer. Lantern in hand, cloak wrapped tight, he slipped out once more, ignoring the echo of his mother’s warnings in his mind. The forest greeted him like an old adversary, its shadows closing in, its mist curling along the path.
The deeper he went, the more the silence thickened, until the world itself seemed to hold its breath.
And then—she was there.
Just as before, she stood in the clearing, framed by silver light, her presence both haunting and fragile. She did not startle when he stepped into view. Her eyes—those impossible violet eyes—met his, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself bent around them.
“You came back,” she said softly.
Ash swallowed. “You knew I would.”
A faint, sorrowful smile touched her lips. “Yes. I suppose I did.”
For a moment they simply looked at each other, the silence between them alive with unspoken things. Then Ash forced himself to take a step closer. “Who are you?”
Her gaze flickered downward. “No one you should know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
The mist stirred, curling around her as though trying to hide her. “Some names are curses,” she murmured.
Ash’s chest tightened. “Then curse me. I don’t care. Tell me.”
Her eyes lifted back to his, shining with a pain so raw it made him ache. “Rose,” she whispered at last. “My name is Rose.”
The name struck him like a blade, sharp and unforgettable. Rose. It suited her—fragile yet fierce, beautiful yet laced with thorns.
Ash stepped closer still, though the air between them seemed charged, dangerous. “Why are you here, Rose? What are you?”
Her expression shifted, sorrow deepening into something almost like fear. “Bound,” she said, the word trembling on her lips. “I cannot leave this forest. I cannot escape what was done to me.”
Ash’s mind spun. Bound? Cursed? Was this the very legend his mother had spoken of in whispers, the one Nyra remembered from childhood tales?
He reached out instinctively, as though to take her hand, but the moment his fingers brushed the mist near her, the air shivered. A jolt like lightning raced through him, searing his skin and flooding his chest with ice and fire all at once. He stumbled back, gasping.
Rose flinched as though she, too, had felt it. Her hands trembled as she clasped them tightly in front of her. “You shouldn’t touch me,” she said, voice breaking. “It will only hurt you.”
But Ash shook his head, heart hammering. “I don’t care.”
Rose’s eyes filled with something he couldn’t name—longing, sorrow, a fragile hope buried deep. For the briefest moment, it seemed as though she wanted to believe him, wanted to reach for him despite everything.
Then the forest stirred violently. The wind howled, the trees groaned, and shadows spilled across the ground like ink. Rose’s face paled further.
“They know you’re here,” she whispered.
Ash’s blood ran cold. “Who?”
But Rose was already retreating, the mist thickening around her, swallowing her form. “Go, Ash,” she pleaded. “Before it’s too late.”
“No!” He lunged forward, desperate to hold onto her, but she dissolved into the fog, her voice the last thing that lingered:
“Do not seek me again.”
And then she was gone.
The forest roared around him, furious and alive. Ash stumbled back, his lantern flickering wildly. He could feel the presence of something vast, something unseen, pressing in on him like a weight. The air itself felt hostile, warning him away.
But it was too late.
Rose’s name burned in his heart, and no curse, no shadow, no warning could pull it free.
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By the time Ash returned to the manor, dawn was breaking again. His cloak was damp, his lantern extinguished, but his mind was ablaze. Rose. A girl bound to the forest. A curse older than his family’s silence.
Nyra found him pacing the hall outside the library. She stopped short at the sight of him—wild-eyed, breathless. “Ash—what happened?”
He turned to her, voice low but fierce. “She has a name. Rose.”
Nyra paled, her lips parting in shock. “Then it’s true. The legend… it’s real.”
Ash grabbed her hand, desperate. “What legend? Tell me everything.”
Nyra hesitated, glancing toward the shadowed end of the hall where their mother might appear at any moment. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Long ago, a girl was cursed in Ebonvale. A girl whose heart was bound to the forest, trapped between life and death. They said she waits for the one who can break the curse—but whoever tries is doomed to share her fate.”
Ash’s pulse thundered. “Doomed?”
Nyra nodded grimly. “Yes. To be bound forever.”
The words sank into him like stone, heavy and inescapable. Bound forever.
And yet, as the rain streaked the windows and the forest loomed in the distance, Ash felt no fear. Only certainty.
He could not leave Rose to her sorrow.
Whatever the cost, he would find her again.
And the cursed heart of Ebonvale would bind them both.
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