Grandma Elira nearly collapsed when she heard the devastating news—Rosaline had been admitted to the hospital. Her heart skipped a beat, her vision blurred, and for a brief moment, the world stood still. Yet, without hesitation, she locked up the restaurant, summoned her closest friends, and rushed to the hospital alongside Rosaline's classmates. The air around them buzzed with tension, whispers, and worry—no one knew exactly what had happened, only that it was cruel… and deliberate.
Meanwhile, far from the walls of compassion and care, Vicent prowled through the shadows of the Forbidden Woods, a sack slung over his shoulder. He wasn't looking for herbs or medicines. No—he was searching for eggs never touched by hen, slithering creatures with beating hearts still warm, and living flesh of animals newly born.All for Guru—a name spoken only in whispers.
Guru, the High Male Sorcerer, the unchallenged King of Witches and Wizards, whose name sent shivers down the spine of even the boldest spirits. His eyes saw through realms, and his words bent nature to his will. Most people spoke of witches and wizards as fairy tales, myths told to scare children or entertain skeptics. Just like you and I, they scoffed—until it was too late.
But what if the myths were true?
Witches and wizards don't wear pointed hats or fly on broomsticks. No. They walk among us. In human skin. In human form. But inside—they are something else entirely.
They feed on human flesh and drink blood like sweetened wine.
They leave their lifeless bodies behind at night, only for their spirits to rise into the hidden realm of shadows, where they gather to plan destruction with grins carved by darkness.
They don't haunt forests.
They haunt your cities. Your schools, Your family.Your dreams.
They are shapeshifters, manipulators of black magic, breathing lies into truth and twisting reality like silk in their fingers. They control minds, curse hearts, and trap souls in eternal torment. Some say witches are under the command of vampires, serving the lords of darkness in a pact sealed with ancient blood.
So tell me—if they're not real, why does every culture speak of them? Why do we all fear the dark… if there's nothing in it?
It could even be that,your favorite person is one of them.
And Vicent knew exactly where to find the worst of them all—Guru.
The one who could end Rosaline's life with a single chant.
And Charlotte stood beside him, smiling. They didn't want Rosaline to just disappear—they wanted her to suffer first. To be touched by shadows. And Guru was eager to obey.
After all, pain was his playground.
Meanwhile, hidden away in a secret chamber beneath Techny, His Imperial Majesty—King Azrien—sat with a woman whose beauty could melt iron. Far from Avalone where eyes watched his every move, they sipped crimson wine, mouths stained, hands tangled. They kissed like they were sealing a curse.
"When will we be married, Your Majesty?" she purred, tracing a finger down his jaw.
Azrien's gaze darkened. Marriage? When he had Empress Recaiah, and Lady Lita, each bound to him by royal oath and hidden desires? He had made promises—dangerous ones. To love one meant betraying another. And betrayal… in his world… came with blood.
At the hospital, Rosaline lay in bed, a tangle of wires and IVs, her face bruised, her soul trembling. Her friends surrounded her, but her pain was too deep for their words to reach.
"I don't even know what this prince looks like," she whispered, tears streaking down her cheeks, "but I hate him. He's the reason for all my pain. Everything bad in my life began because of him."
"Don't say that," Casse giggled, trying to lighten the air. "He's too handsome to hate. The moment you see his face, you'll probably go insane with love."
Marga nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yup. You'll forget all this pain just by looking at him."
But Grandma Elira narrowed her eyes. There was something sinister in the timing, something unnatural about all of this. She shushed them coldly, her instincts screaming that this wasn't just fate—this was a curse in motion.
Night fell.
And when the room was finally quiet,Marga and Casse were asleep. Rosaline lay asleep and the women had stepped away to get food—Vicent and Charlotte entered. Silently.
The lights flickered.
The air grew cold.
Vicent's smile was cruel. Charlotte's eyes gleamed.
They looked at Rosaline like hunters watching prey.
Not with concern. But with intent.
She was completely unaware that her worst enemies now stood at her bedside, plotting something darker than even nightmares could capture.