Cursed to Love You

Bond by fate

Chapter Two

Bond by fate

The morning mist curled around the twisted branches of the Wildlands as Eira stepped cautiously onto the forest path leading toward Eldrath. Each footfall stirred fallen leaves and the scent of damp earth, but the stillness around her was heavy — as if the woods themselves were holding their breath.

Her heart pounded beneath the weight of the curse, the strange tether pulling her closer to the enemy she was sworn to despise.

She kept her cloak wrapped tight, the charm at her throat warm against her skin — a pulse syncing with the crescent mark that glowed faintly beneath Kael’s tunic miles away. A constant reminder that fate had intertwined their souls in a bond neither wanted.

“Why now?” she whispered to the silence. “Why me? Why him?”

A rustle behind her snapped Eira to alertness. Thorne emerged from the shadows, his dark eyes sharp and cautious.

“You’re really going through with this,” he said, voice low. “Facing a prince who was raised to hate you. To destroy your people.”

Eira met his gaze steadily. “If I don’t, this curse will tear me apart from within. If I do, maybe I can control it — or end it.”

Thorne shook his head slowly. “Some things don’t end without cost.”

Eira’s eyes flashed. “Then I’ll pay it. Because I refuse to let this curse define who I am — or who he becomes.”

They stood in silence for a moment, two souls bound by history, fear, and a fragile hope.

Then, without another word, Eira turned toward the rising sun.

The journey to Eldrath had begun.

Meanwhile, in the castle’s war room, Kael stood over a map dotted with markings—old battle sites, border villages, places where magic lingered strongest. Around him, his closest advisors debated strategy, but his mind was elsewhere.

The curse was a shadow hanging over everything, a secret wound he could neither hide nor heal.

Lysandra approached quietly, her steps light on the cold stone floor.

“The bond is stronger than we thought,” she said softly. “It’s not just magic — it’s tied to your very souls. Breaking it won’t be easy.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Then we find a way to bend it.”

She met his gaze. “There’s a ritual — old and dangerous. It requires complete trust between those bound. You and the witch.”

“Trust,” Kael repeated bitterly. “That’s something we don’t have.”

Lysandra’s eyes held his. “Yet.”

As the sun climbed higher, two worlds moved closer, bound by a curse and a destiny neither could escape.

The first steps of a new story — of enemies learning to understand, and maybe, to love.

The path from the Wildlands to Eldrath was treacherous—twisting through dense forests where shadows seemed to whisper secrets, and crossing rivers that gleamed like liquid glass under the midday sun. Eira moved with practiced grace, every sense alert to the dangers lurking in the wilderness.

Thorne rode beside her, silent as a shadow, his eyes scanning the trees for threats. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said quietly.

Eira shook her head. “No. This is my burden. My curse.”

He sighed, but said nothing more.

Inside Eldrath’s stone walls, Kael prepared for the ritual Lysandra had described. The great hall was stripped bare, candles flickering in iron sconces as the ancient runes were traced on the floor.

His pulse quickened as he waited—waiting for Eira, waiting for the moment when the curse might be unraveled or sealed forever.

When footsteps echoed in the corridor, his heart seized.

She appeared in the doorway—eyes fierce, cloak dusted with forest leaves.

“Ready?” he asked.

Eira nodded, stepping forward.

Lysandra’s voice rang out, chanting in a language older than Eldrath itself. The runes glowed, the air thickened, and the bond between Kael and Eira pulsed with raw energy.

The curse fought back—tendrils of shadow lashing out, twisting their emotions, dredging up memories of hatred and pain.

But beneath it all, a flicker of something else—something fragile and new.

As the ritual reached its peak, Kael caught Eira’s hand, their fingers intertwining.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

Eira met his gaze, the defiance melting into something softer. “I will.”

The magic surged, binding them closer—not just by curse, but by choice.

And in that moment, everything changed.

The first true step from enemies to something more.

The ritual’s energy pulsed through the chamber like a living thing, wrapping around Kael and Eira, pulling them deeper into the ancient magic. Their breaths came in ragged bursts as the shadows twisted around them, threatening to unravel the fragile connection forming between their hearts.

Kael’s grip tightened on Eira’s hand, grounding them both against the storm of emotions rising within. Memories of battlefields and betrayal surfaced—flashes of fire, screams, and loss—but beneath the fury, a different feeling fought to break free: hope.

Eira’s voice trembled, barely a whisper against the chant. “I won’t let this destroy me.”

“You’re stronger than the curse,” Kael said, his eyes burning with determination. “Stronger than the hatred it feeds on.”

A brilliant light erupted from the runes, engulfing the room in warmth. When it faded, the oppressive weight lifted, leaving a silence that hummed with possibility.

They stared at each other, breathless, no longer bound by hatred, but by a promise yet to be spoken.

Outside, the wind shifted, carrying a new kind of magic into the world—a magic born not from curses, but from the fragile beginnings of love.

The journey ahead would be perilous. Allies and enemies lurked in every shadow, and the ancient forces behind the curse were far from finished.

But for the first time, Kael and Eira faced it together.

The bond was no longer just a curse.

It was a choice.

Later that evening, the castle felt different.

Not quieter—Eldrath’s halls never truly slept—but charged, like the hush before a storm. The kind of storm that did not howl through the skies, but twisted through hearts.

Kael walked alone through the torchlit corridors, each step echoing against the stone. Servants and soldiers stepped aside, their eyes curious. Rumors had already begun to spread. The witch had come. The prince had allowed her entry. And together, they had touched a magic not seen in generations.

In the far tower, Eira stood at the window of her temporary quarters, watching the city below. Eldrath was strange from this angle—its rigid structure, its spires and walls like bones set in ancient places. So different from the ever-shifting Wildlands.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. She turned, finding Kael at the threshold.

“May I?” he asked.

Eira hesitated, then nodded. “If you’re here to gloat, save your breath.”

Kael gave a small, tired smirk. “I think I lost the right to gloat the moment the curse tried to crush both our hearts.”

She allowed the corner of her mouth to twitch. “Fair.”

He stepped inside, unsure whether to sit or stand. Instead, he leaned against the window opposite her. The silence that settled between them wasn’t uncomfortable. Just new.

“I thought it would feel different,” Kael said at last.

“The curse?” she asked.

“No. This.” He gestured vaguely. “Being near you without wanting to rip each other’s throats out.”

Eira’s smile turned dry. “Give it time. We haven’t had a proper disagreement yet.”

He studied her. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you.”

They stared at each other for a moment too long.

She looked away first. “The bond is changing, Kael. I can feel it. It’s… softer. But dangerous. Like the calm before something breaks.”

His jaw tensed. “Then we need to stay ahead of it. The curse isn’t done with us. That ritual was only the beginning.”

“And if it’s not the curse that breaks us?” she asked quietly.

Kael’s voice dropped low. “Then we make sure it isn’t the war between us that finishes what the curse started.”

For a fleeting moment, it wasn’t a prince and a witch speaking.

It was just Kael and Eira—two souls standing on the edge of something neither could name.

And it was terrifying.

And beautiful.

And real.

They parted that night without another word.

But in the space between silence and longing, something had shifted.

The battle lines were blurring.

And neither of them would ever be the same again.

Eira lay awake long after Kael left, her eyes tracing the carvings in the stone ceiling above her bed. The castle was colder than the Wildlands, less forgiving, more watchful. Every creak in the walls sounded like judgment. Every gust of wind against the glass whispered, You don’t belong here.

But something about tonight was different. The magic still shimmered faintly in her blood, like the echo of a distant song. Not the violent pull of the curse, but something quieter. Steady. Almost... comforting.

She turned over, drawing the covers tighter. She didn’t want to admit that Kael’s presence had calmed her more than the spell itself.

Down in the war chamber, Lysandra and Thorne stood across from each other, the tension between them thick as smoke. Neither trusted the other, but both had the prince’s well-being in mind.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Thorne said, arms crossed. “This place feeds on fear. You know what they’ll do to her if they see her as a threat.”

“She is a threat,” Lysandra replied coldly. “But not in the way you think. She threatens his heart. His judgment.”

Thorne narrowed his eyes. “He’s not some naive boy.”

“No,” she said softly. “But he’s lonely. And the curse feeds on loneliness as much as hatred. If she breaks him…”

“Or if he breaks her,” Thorne said darkly.

A beat of silence passed.

“They’re both cursed,” Lysandra murmured. “But maybe… maybe that’s why they might survive.”

The next morning dawned grey and windswept. Rain traced soft lines down the castle windows as Eira stepped into the inner courtyard, hood drawn low. She needed air, space. A moment to think without Kael’s eyes reading her like a question she hadn’t decided how to answer.

To her surprise, he was already there—sword in hand, cutting through the air in practiced arcs. Training. Always training. Even when cursed.

He paused when he saw her.

“You’re up early,” he said, breath misting in the cold.

Eira folded her arms. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“I know the feeling.”

She nodded toward the blade. “Preparing for battle?”

Kael gave a half-smile. “It’s how I focus. You?”

She gestured at the sky. “Nature’s quieter in the rain. It reminds me I’m still me.”

There was a silence, longer this time. Not awkward. Just... weighted.

“You said the bond is changing,” Kael said finally. “What if it’s not just the curse shifting?”

Eira tilted her head. “You think it’s us?”

“I think… whatever this is, it’s bigger than either of us. We were enemies. Now we’re cursed. What comes next?”

She stepped closer, meeting his gaze squarely.

“That depends,” she said. “Do you still see me as your enemy?”

Kael’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, the rain stopped mattering.

“No,” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

Eira’s heart skipped, her breath catching—

Just as the castle bell tolled once. Then twice.

Urgent.

Warning.

They both turned toward the sound. A messenger sprinted across the wet stone, breathless and pale.

“A breach at the northern wall,” he panted. “Dark riders… and shadowbeasts. They’ve come through the forest.”

Kael’s expression shifted instantly—soldier’s instinct taking over. “How many?”

“Too many.”

He turned to Eira, tension crackling between them.

“Ready for your first fight as not my enemy?” he asked grimly.

She nodded, eyes gleaming.

“I was born ready.”

And together, they ran toward the storm.

The wind howled like a creature awakened as Kael and Eira reached the northern wall. The sky had turned the color of steel, and thunder grumbled in the distance—though whether from nature or magic, it was impossible to tell.

Flames flickered from hastily lit torches. Archers lined the battlements, eyes wide with fear. Below, in the shadowed forest edge, figures moved—dark shapes riding beasts not born of this world. Their forms were twisted mockeries of men, their eyes glowing with the sickly gold of the cursed.

“Shadowbeasts,” Eira whispered, her throat tightening.

“You’ve fought them before?” Kael asked, drawing his blade.

“Once. In the Wildlands. They don’t die easily.”

“Neither do we,” he replied.

A horn sounded. The creatures surged forward, shrieking—a chorus of nightmares tearing through the mist.

Kael barked orders, his voice commanding. “Hold the line! Archers, aim for their eyes—if they have them! Mages, with me!”

Eira stepped to his side, hands already aglow with arcane light. She didn’t need orders. She knew what she had to do.

As the first shadowbeast leapt toward the wall, she raised her palm and shouted an incantation. A blast of crackling violet energy slammed into it mid-air, turning its form to smoke and ash.

Kael watched, impressed despite the chaos. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You already were,” she muttered, launching another spell.

They fought as a unit—blades and magic, instinct and trust. Every time Kael faltered, Eira was there, her spells shielding him. Every time her strength waned, his blade cut a path to safety.

For a moment, it felt as though the bond between them wasn’t a curse, but a gift.

Then the air changed.

It went cold. Still.

From the shadows beyond the trees, a figure emerged.

Tall. Cloaked in darkness. Its face hidden beneath a mask of bone and gold.

Eira’s heart stopped.

“The Shadow King,” she breathed.

Kael’s sword dipped slightly. “He’s real?”

“He commands the cursed ones. He’s the one who bound our fates. He shouldn’t be here.”

The Shadow King raised a hand—and the beasts stilled, as if held by a leash. The battlefield fell eerily quiet.

Then, he spoke. His voice didn’t echo; it crawled into the ears of all who heard it.

“You wear my curse like armor, witch. And you, prince... you’ve let her weaken you.”

Kael stepped forward. “If you’ve come to end this, do it. Otherwise, leave.”

The Shadow King’s laughter was a sound that made the torches flicker and the ground tremble.

“This is only the beginning. The curse you bear? It’s a seed. And it’s growing.”

He turned his gaze to Eira.

“You’ll break him. Or he’ll break you. It’s in your blood now.”

A pulse of black energy rippled from his figure—and the shadowbeasts vanished like mist in sunlight.

The figure dissolved.

The battle was over.

But the war had begun.

Kael sheathed his sword, breathing hard. “We need answers.”

Eira looked toward the place where the Shadow King had stood, her fingers trembling. “Then we’ll find them. Together.”

Not because they trusted each other fully.

Not because the curse had vanished.

But because something deeper had taken root.

And they would face the darkness side by side.