Marked by the Alpha's Curse

Chapter 23

#MBTACChapter23

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The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the curtains in hazy, golden beams. Nimbus was already awake, curled up on the counter of the bookstore, his tail flicking lazily as he watched me move around the shelves. My mind was restless, the events of the cursed lands replaying in a constant loop.

The charm hung heavier around my neck now, as if it had absorbed something from the altar, from the Glade itself. It pulsed faintly against my skin, a reminder that I was tied to something far greater than I could comprehend.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Lyra’s voice rang out from the doorway, sharp and clear. She leaned casually against the frame, her ever-present staff resting at her side.

I jumped slightly but quickly recovered. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. Especially after everything we’ve been through.”

Lyra smirked. “Consider it a test. You passed—barely. How are you holding up?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Confused. Exhausted. A little angry, honestly.”

Lyra stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the room as if expecting to find danger lurking between the bookshelves. “Angry’s good. It keeps you sharp. But don’t let it cloud your judgment.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “Do you ever turn off the sage advice thing?”

“No,” she replied simply, pulling a stool closer and sitting down. “Because someone has to keep you alive, and Timothy’s too busy brooding to be of much use right now.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was short-lived. “Speaking of Timothy… where is he?”

“Patrolling,” Lyra said, her tone neutral. “The Glade’s energy shift didn’t just stop at the border. It’s rippling out. Whatever you did, it’s stirring up a lot more than we expected.”

The weight in her words was clear. “You think it’s dangerous?”

Lyra hesitated, then nodded. “Potentially. The bond you forged—it’s powerful, Iviel. But power like that doesn’t go unnoticed. If the wrong people sense it…”

“They’ll come looking,” I finished, the realization settling heavily on my shoulders.

“Exactly,” Lyra said. “Which is why we need to figure out what the charm is really tied to. Your connection to the shard, the Glade, the pack—it’s all interwoven, and I don’t think it’s by accident.”

Before I could respond, the front door creaked open, and Timothy stepped inside. His presence filled the room instantly, his sharp gaze locking onto me as if checking for signs of danger.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low but warm.

“Morning,” I replied, noting the tension in his posture. “Anything to report?”

Timothy shook his head, though his jaw tightened. “Nothing immediate. But Lyra’s right—the energy shift is drawing attention. I could feel it in the woods. We’re not alone anymore.”

The statement sent a chill down my spine. “Do you think it’s… them? The creatures from the Glade?”

“Maybe,” Timothy said, leaning against the counter beside me. “Or something worse. Either way, we can’t let our guard down.”

Nimbus let out a soft meow, drawing our attention. He hopped down from the counter and padded over to the charm around my neck, sniffing it with curiosity before rubbing his head against it.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “Even your cat seems drawn to it. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Nimbus has always been strange,” I said, scratching his ears absentmindedly. “But this… it feels different. Like he understands more than he should.”

Timothy crouched down, his hand brushing against Nimbus’s fur. “Animals sense things we don’t. Maybe he’s trying to tell us something.”

Lyra stood abruptly, her expression sharp. “Or maybe we’re wasting time. The charm’s connected to the answers we need, and we’re sitting here theorizing instead of finding them.”

“And where do you suggest we start?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.

Lyra met my gaze, her expression unwavering. “With your family. The charm came from them, didn’t it? That means they’re tied to all of this too. It’s time to dig into your past, Iviel. Whether you like it or not.”

The idea of uncovering my family’s secrets was daunting. My parents had always been vague about our lineage, brushing off my questions with half-hearted explanations about tradition and old folklore. Now, it seemed those stories weren’t just myths—they were threads in a tapestry I hadn’t realized I was part of.

I found myself standing in the dusty attic of the bookstore, sifting through boxes of old documents and trinkets. Timothy stood nearby, his presence a quiet reassurance as I worked. Nimbus perched on a beam above us, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

“This is hopeless,” I muttered, setting aside yet another stack of irrelevant papers. “There’s nothing here.”

“There has to be,” Timothy said, his tone calm but firm. “Your parents wouldn’t have kept the charm if it didn’t mean something.”

I sighed, leaning against a box and staring at the scattered contents of the attic. “It’s just… overwhelming. All my life, I thought we were ordinary. And now, I’m tied to some ancient curse, some powerful bond I don’t even understand.”

Timothy stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine. “You’re not alone in this, Iviel. We’ll figure it out together.”

Before I could respond, Nimbus let out a sharp meow, drawing our attention. He leapt down from the beam, landing gracefully beside a small chest tucked into the corner of the attic.

“What is it, Nimbus?” I asked, crouching beside him.

He pawed at the chest, his movements insistent. Timothy helped me pull it into the open, the wood creaking with age. Inside, I found a bundle of letters tied with a faded ribbon and a small, intricately carved box.

I opened the letters first, my hands trembling slightly as I read the faded handwriting. They were addressed to my mother, written in a language I didn’t recognize.

“What is this?” I murmured, holding up one of the letters.

Timothy examined it, his brow furrowing. “It’s old—very old. This language… it’s tied to the packs. I’ve seen something like it in the elders’ archives.”

Lyra’s voice echoed in my mind. Your family is tied to this.

I opened the carved box next, revealing a small, glowing shard nestled inside. The same energy that pulsed through the charm now radiated from the shard, its light reflecting off the walls.

Timothy inhaled sharply. “That’s part of the original shard. The one that caused the curse.”

My heart raced as I stared at the shard, its light illuminating the attic. My family hadn’t just been tied to the curse—they’d been at its center.

And now, I was too.

—

To be continued…