The curse was not a physical blow. It was a violation.
It struck not my body, but the very grammar of my soul, a torrent of annihilating intent designed to unwrite my will. I felt it as a thousand icy hooks sinking into my spirit, each one attached to a spectral chain pulling me toward a black iron throne that existed only in Kelson’s mind. Thorns of command, honed over generations of subjugation, sought to wrap around my heart, to squeeze until all that remained was a puppet’s obedience.
The sheer, arrogant force of it was breathtaking. He was not trying to bind me; he was trying to erase me and wear my skin. The air crackled, the Imperial Guards recoiling as the raw power of the blood-curse warped the very space between us.
But in his rage, Kelson had forgotten the most fundamental pr
