CUPID

CUPID'S CURSE

Chapter 4: Cupid’s Curse

The library had become Lucretia’s sanctuary. Not because it was quiet, but because it was old. The scent of parchment and polished wood reminded her of permanence—of things that had survived time, unlike the fleeting normalcy she once knew. Since the masquerade, her world had shifted. The whispers hadn’t stopped. They had simply grown more cunning, slipping into her thoughts when she least expected them.

She sat hunched over a stack of books, her fingers tracing faded Latin inscriptions. The phrases from the ballroom echoed in her mind, especially the one the masked figure had whispered during their dance. She had written it down phonetically, then translated it with the help of an obscure lexicon tucked in the restricted section. What she found unsettled her.

Cupidus Maledictus.

It wasn’t just a phrase. It was a name. A corrupted version of Cupid, twisted by betrayal and grief. Unlike the cherubic god of love from mythology, this entity fed on doomed affection. His arrows didn’t inspire romance—they cursed it. According to one manuscript, he was drawn to places where love had been broken, where passion had turned to pain. Dreame High, with its sealed wing and tragic history, seemed to be one of those places.

Lucretia leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning the dimly lit shelves. She felt like she was being watched, not by a person, but by the school itself. The idea wasn’t new. Oliver had hinted at it before. Dreame High was alive, in a way. It chose. It tested.

She closed the book and slipped it into her bag. There was more to uncover, but she needed a break. Her mind was beginning to fray at the edges, and the whispers were growing louder.

---

Carla’s House

That evening, Lucretia visited her aunt Carla. The woman lived in a sprawling Victorian home on the outskirts of town, surrounded by overgrown hedges and ivy-covered walls. The house had always felt haunted, though not by ghosts. It was haunted by memory.

Carla greeted her at the door with a raised eyebrow and a glass of red wine. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, stepping aside to let Lucretia in.

“I need to ask you something,” Lucretia replied, her voice low. “About my mother.”

Carla’s expression shifted. She set her glass down and motioned toward the sitting room. “What about her?”

“Did she go to Dreame High?”

Carla nodded slowly. “She did. So did your father. That’s where they met.”

Lucretia hesitated. “Did they ever mention a group called The Heartbound?”

Carla’s face paled. She looked away, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. “That was a long time ago. I don’t know much.”

“But it’s real?”

Carla sighed. “Go check the attic. If Evelyn left anything behind, it’ll be up there.”

The attic was dim and dusty, lit only by a single bulb that flickered like it was afraid of the dark. Lucretia climbed the creaking stairs, her heart pounding. Boxes lined the walls, filled with old clothes, photographs, and forgotten memories.

She found the diary in a wooden chest beneath a pile of scarves. It was leather-bound, the initials “E.M.” etched into the cover. Her mother’s name—Evelyn Marlowe.

Lucretia opened it carefully, the pages brittle with age. The handwriting was elegant, looping, and full of emotion. She flipped through entries about school, friendships, and then—The Heartbound.

Her mother had written about a secret society formed by students who believed love was sacred, powerful, and worth protecting. They met in hidden rooms beneath the west library, swearing oaths and performing rituals. But something had gone wrong. They had summoned a force they didn’t understand. It started with whispers. Then dreams. Then disappearances.

Lucretia’s hands trembled as she read. Her parents had faced the same darkness. And now, it was her turn.

---

Tessa’s Confession

The next morning, Lucretia found Tessa in the art room, staring blankly at a canvas smeared with charcoal and crimson paint. She looked pale, her eyes ringed with exhaustion.

“I haven’t slept,” Tessa said without turning. “Not really.”

Lucretia sat beside her. “What’s happening?”

Tessa hesitated, then spoke in a whisper. “I keep dreaming of a creature. Winged. Tall. Its face is hidden, but its eyes glow. It carries a bow made of bone. And it’s hunting me.”

Lucretia felt a chill crawl down her spine. “Cupidus Maledictus.”

Tessa nodded slowly. “I think it’s real. I think it’s here.”

Lucretia told her everything—about the diary, the Latin phrases, the corrupted Cupid. Tessa listened, her expression unreadable.

“I remember something,” she said. “From when I was nine. I wandered too close to the west library. I heard music. Saw a door. And then… I woke up in the infirmary. Feverish. Confused.”

Lucretia’s heart pounded. “That’s what happened to you in Grade 9, isn’t it?”

Tessa nodded. “I think it’s been watching me ever since.”

---

Oliver’s Revelation

Later that day, Lucretia found Oliver in the greenhouse. He was tending to a bed of orchids, his movements slow and deliberate. He looked tired, older somehow.

“I need to know the truth,” she said.

Oliver didn’t look up. “You already know more than you should.”

“My mother was part of The Heartbound. She faced this thing. And now it’s happening again.”

Oliver sighed and stood, brushing soil from his hands. “My family is cursed. Every generation, someone is taken. My grandfather lost his sister. My father lost his best friend. And now…”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“I think it’s going to be me.”

Lucretia stepped closer. “Why?”

“Because I danced with you. Because I felt something. And that’s what it feeds on.”

She reached for his hand. “We can stop it.”

Oliver shook his head. “You don’t stop Cupid’s curse. You survive it. If you’re lucky.”

---

The Heartbound’s Legacy

That night, Lucretia returned to her room and opened her mother’s diary again. She read through the final entries, her heart aching. Evelyn had written about the last meeting of The Heartbound. They had tried to seal the old wing, to trap the entity inside. But it hadn’t worked. The school had changed. It had adapted.

Lucretia flipped to the back of the diary and found a folded piece of paper tucked between the pages. It was a map—hand-drawn, showing a hidden passage beneath the west library. A tunnel leading to a chamber marked with a symbol she didn’t recognize.

She traced the lines with her finger, her mind racing. If she could find that chamber, maybe she could understand what her mother had faced. Maybe she could finish what The Heartbound had started.

---

The Dream

That night, Lucretia dreamed of the ballroom. It was empty, silent. The masked figure stood alone, his bow raised. He aimed at her, but didn’t release. Instead, he spoke in a voice that echoed through her bones.

“You’ve been marked.”

She woke with a gasp, her heart racing. Outside her window, the moon hung low, blood-red. The whispers had returned, softer now, like lullabies. But they carried a warning.

Something was coming.

And it was hungry.