Page 14 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)

When I woke up this morning, finally, after a fitful sleep, rage consumed me.

I have no idea if this is me going through the whole five stages of grief or what. But if it is…this is the stage where I am pissed beyond belief.

I can’t describe it as anything other than rage.

Rage over my sister being dead.

Rage over my parents keeping this huge secret from us.

Rage over not knowing the entire truth about anything or who the hell to trust.

I came to the one place where I know I can get more answers.

Professor Lucian Draedon’s classroom.

I hastily pound on the door, my fist slamming against the wood with a desperation that feels like it's going to tear me apart limb from limb. My pulse is a frantic drumbeat in my ears, and my breath comes in shallow gasps.

I hit the door harder. "Professor!" My voice cracks, breaking apart as the anguish bursts from me. I’m unraveling. The edges of the world I’ve always known blurs and collapses around me, and the only thing I know is that I need someone to tell me this isn’t real. I need someone to tell me this isn’t real.

The seconds stretch into eternity. Just as my fist rises again, the door swings open, and the professor stands there. His expression is the same cold mask it always is, but his eyes flicker—searching, maybe questioning. The moment our eyes connect, I feel something shift. My anger dissipates, just a little, and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. It’s an odd mixture and it brings me back to when Lara and I found out about our parents. I can’t believe this is happening all over again.

I shove past the professor, stumbling into his classroom as my boot catches on the metal threshold, grief pulling me forward. "Lara’s dead. She's dead!" The words come out as a broken scream. My voice shatters on the air, cracking and sharp, throat still raw from the hours before. The words don’t feel real. I don’t feel real. I keep saying them, like if I repeat it enough, it will stop being true.

His eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens, but I see something on his face—a flicker of disbelief, a flicker of grief. He steps aside, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

“She—she’s gone, and Isabel…Isabel came to me. She said—” My voice breaks again, and I have to swallow to keep from falling apart. “She said…” My words come out in fractured sobs. I can barely make sense of it all. My hands are shaking so badly I can’t seem to hold on to my thoughts. Why can’t I just say it? “She said the vampires killed her. She said your people killed her!” I scream, my voice raw and unfiltered, laced with the same rage I was feeling only moments ago.

He looks at me like he’s above it all. Like he hasn’t a clue why I’d ever accuse him of such a thing when that’s literally what he’s known for—going by fiction, anyways. But the line between fiction and reality is so blurred I can’t even see straight. Do I think vampires killed her? No. Maybe? I don’t know. I know I feel an intense pull to not trust Isabel. But I need to hear it from Professor Draedon. I need to hear that vampires didn’t kill my sister.

“Be honest with me!” I spit, my voice trembling with fury. “Did they hurt her?”

His eyes narrow, confusion flickering across his face. “Sylvie?—”

“Don’t you dare say my name like that,” I snap, stepping closer, my chest heaving with the effort to contain my mixture of emotions. “Isabel said vampires killed Lara. Your kind. She said they slaughtered my sister, and they apparently left her to rot in the woods like she was nothing! I need you to tell me it isn’t true,” I cry, feeling like I’m about to internally combust from the pain and pressure and complete and total agony ripping at my insides.

His expression hardens, and he takes a step toward me, his voice low and measured. “And you think my people had something to do with it? All because some girl keeps coming to you and trying to persuade you to join a fucking cult?” he seethes, and I know I’ve pushed his buttons to a point of no return.

“I don’t know!” I shout, not caring, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what to think anymore! For all I know, you could have done it!” I don’t mean the words. I’m pissed. I’m hurt. I’m angry. I’m fucking terrified.

But I don’t mean it.

The accusation hangs in the air, sharp and venomous. His jaw tightens, and I see something flicker in his eyes—pain, maybe, or anger, or both.

“Is that what you really believe?” he says, his tone cold but controlled. “That I would harm her? Harm you?”

“I don’t know what to believe!” I shout again, my voice breaking this time. “All I know is that she’s dead, and someone is saying vampires killed her. And you—you—stand here, acting like you’re above it all, like you’re somehow different. But you’re not, are you?” I pause, trying to collect myself, knowing I need to calm down but finding it nearly impossible to find it within myself to be anything other than fucking angry. “She said Lara’s death is just the beginning. Everything’s connected, Professor Draedon. And I hear her, I hear Lara’s voice. In my head.”

He stares at me, his mouth pressing into a thin line. I can tell he's trying to make sense of my words, weighing them, figuring out whether this is some kind of delusion. But I know what I hear. I know what I feel. “Professor, I swear it’s her voice. She’s speaking to me. It’s not just some dream or?—”

He steps forward, his expression softening. “Lara’s voice, you say?” His tone is measured, cautious. He knows something I don’t. I can see it in his eyes, the way he watches me.

I nod, desperate for him to understand, for him to help me make sense of it. “Yes. I’m not crazy. She's still here somehow. Or I guess she isn’t here, because the cops said she’s dead…” I trail off. “But I’m hearing her. She told me not to trust Isabel. She said that everything I thought was wrong, that I’m being lied to. But I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know who to trust anymore. I can’t even trust myself. I feel like I’m officially going insane.”

He studies me in silence. His eyes don’t leave mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something that will make it all better. But instead, his gaze softens, and he sighs.

“Vampires didn’t kill your sister. I can bet my life on that. Yes, there are vampires who feed on humans, who drain their lifeforce. But they aren’t here. Not in Blackthorne, not on campus, not in those woods. The vampires around us are tame. They are humane. My people didn’t do this to your sister.”

He pauses and runs his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

“You wanted to hear it from me, and you have. I am certain my kind did not bring any harm to Lara. If I am wrong, I will take all my words back. I’ll apologize profusely on behalf of my kind. But I’d bet my immortality on your sister’s disappearance, her death, on something much darker.”

I look at him, unable to even form words. Everything presses down on me.

“This… hearing voices—it’s part of your gift, Sylvie.” His voice is quiet, but firm. "It’s not a curse, though it can feel like one. And this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Not for you."

I shake my head, confusion clouding my thoughts. “What do you mean? What is happening to me? Why can I hear her, why is she still here?”

He pauses before speaking again, his gaze penetrating. “It’s because you’re not just any regular person. You’re part of something bigger, Sylvie. Something ancient. You’re born into this.”

The words land like a slap, and I feel my heart skip a beat as I throw my head backward in complete annoyance. “You’re not making any sense! What does that even mean?”

His expression darkens, and he steps closer, lowering his voice. “The prophecy, Sylvie.”

I stare at him, searching for some clue in his eyes. "What prophecy? What are you talking about?"

Lucian takes a deep breath and lowers his voice even further, like he’s about to tell me something no one else should hear. “The prophecy speaks of a hunter, born of twins, who will hold the power to tip the scales of fate. This is part of what I have been studying for ages. One twin is destined to fight, to protect, that is the hunter. The other is given abilities far beyond that of normal hunters.” He looks at me, his gaze piercing, intense. “And Sylvie, you are that twin. You and Lara both share a bloodline unlike any other. The power that runs in your veins, especially when it comes to the vampire curse, is power beyond measure.”

I freeze. This can’t be real. Lara and me? We’re part of a prophecy? My breath hitches in my chest, and I suddenly feel like I’m drowning in this new reality he’s telling me. This is so far off from what I thought was meant by you have abilities .

“What do you mean, ‘abilities far beyond normal hunters’? Hunters? You’re not making sense again.” I don’t even know what to say. The words don’t make sense, and yet everything inside me is telling me they’re true.

Lucian’s gaze doesn’t waver, his words cutting through the haze in my mind. “The hunter is simply a term in the prophecy. It describes twins born to fight. You’ve always had abilities, Sylvie. More than you realize. Communicating with the dead? That’s just the surface. What you share with Lara—it’s not chance. It’s tied to something much older. Something in your blood.”

I try to speak, but my throat feels tight, the words refusing to come.

“You and Lara come from two of the most powerful bloodlines this world has ever known,” he says, his voice like a blade slicing through the silence. “Your father’s side is descended from hunters. Slayers. Their purpose has always been to rid the world of creatures like me—vampires, and the witches, too. Your father’s group existed long before the Solstice Society was ever formed. His family was bound to a sacred duty, one passed down for generations.”

I can’t look away from him, even though I want to.

“But your mother…” Lucian’s voice softens, almost reverent. “She was an Everdawn. That name might mean nothing to you now, but it should. The Everdawns were part of the original witches—the key witches. The ones who first wielded magic in its purest form. They were the architects of the supernatural order, the creators of the magic that binds this world together. Your mother carried that power in her blood, a legacy stretching back to the beginning of it all.”

My heart pounds as the pieces begin to fit together, forming something too big to comprehend. I’m a…witch?

“When your parents met, it should’ve been impossible,” he continues. “Hunters and witches were never meant to mix. Their worlds were at war—two sides fighting to control or destroy what they couldn’t understand. But they defied all of that. They risked everything to be together. They left their worlds behind, tried to carve out something new for you and Lara. They lived as humans in order to protect the two of you and be together, I can only assume.”

The implication of his words crushes me. My chest tightens, a scream building but unable to escape. My parents loved each other so much, loved us so much, that they denied their families. Their histories. They fled it all to be together and raise the two of us…

“What does that make me?” I manage to choke out.

“It makes you both,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “A hunter with the blood of the original witches. A bridge between two legacies that were never meant to coexist. But here you are. You and Lara are hunters by lineage. But you are also witches, too.”

My hands tremble. My mind races, trying to make sense of it all.

“This is too much,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It’s too fucking much.”

A tear slips free, trailing slowly down my chapped cheek. It feels hot against my skin, a small betrayal from a body that should have nothing left to give. I can’t cry anymore, and yet, I am.

Professor Draedon moves closer, his presence overwhelming, but strangely grounding. When he reaches out and brushes a tear from my cheek, I flinch. His touch is gentle, and it lingers just a moment too long. His thumb rests at the edge of my cheekbone, his touch hovering just shy of intimate, and I’m too tired to resist the pull of the moment.

“I want to reiterate this. I did not harm your sister. I cannot speak for all of my vampire counterparts, but this area isn’t like it used to be. Most vampires aren’t out killing innocent humans. We’re much more humane than even a decade ago.” He pauses. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I don’t know why those words unravel something in me, but they do. My breath shudders, catching in my throat, and for a second, I want to believe him. That I don’t have to carry all of this by myself.

His thumb shifts slightly, his hand cupping the curve of my jaw for a breath too long, and then it’s gone. The absence leaves a hollow ache I can’t explain, and I hate how much I notice it.

“It’s just a tear,” I say, my voice breaking, but the moment has already marked me, sinking deeper than it should.

His eyes, darker than I’ve ever seen them, hold mine for a beat longer than necessary, like he’s searching for something in me he doesn’t quite understand—or maybe something he already does.

“It’s never just a tear,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to my lips for the briefest second before he pulls back, the space between us growing wide again.

And just like that, the moment slips away, leaving me breathless in its wake.

I swallow, the lump in my throat growing as I try to regain some semblance of control.

“What you’re saying is Lara and I were always meant for something… something bigger.” The words taste foreign on my tongue. “But what now, Professor? What am I supposed to do with this?”

He takes a step back, his face unreadable. “The truth is, we don’t know everything yet. But this, Sylvie? This is just the beginning. What’s happening now, hearing Lara in your mind… it’s the start of something much bigger than either of us understands, despite the studying I’ve done.” His eyes harden slightly. “And there are others out there, watching, waiting to see what you’ll do with your power.”

It all crashes down on me, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady. But I can’t help the panic that rises up inside me. "But… Lara. I can still hear her. And she told me not to trust Isabel. She said I’m being lied to. But I don’t even know who to trust anymore. If I can hear her, how is she dead?” My hands shake as I clutch at my chest, trying to steady the unease inside me. “What if I can’t do this? What if I’m?—”

He steps closer, his expression softening. “You don’t have to face this in isolation. You never were meant to. But I need you to understand one thing. Whatever Isabel is telling you, whatever she’s showing you, it’s not the whole truth. There’s more to this than either of us know. She’s made it clear the Society wants you. They could be lying to pull you in.” He takes another deep breath, and I follow suite, instinctively. “You truly have no reason to believe me, I am well aware of this. But if you give me time, I will continue to tell you why you should.”

I shake my head, tears threatening at the edges of my vision. “I don't know what’s real anymore. I just want it to stop. I want to wake up from this nightmare.”

Lucian looks at me, his expression unreadable but his voice firm. “You’re just beginning to understand what’s at play here. And there’s a lot more at stake than just your sister’s death.”

I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around everything he’s just said. My chest tightens, and the air around me feels stifling, like I’m drowning in it. “But… what am I supposed to do? You’re telling me I’m part of a prophecy, but I still don’t understand what it means for me moving forward. For Lara. For all of this.” I gesture wildly around the room, my hands trembling. “How do I stop it? How do I fix it?”

His gaze never wavers. His eyes hold something I can’t quite place—concern, yes, but also something darker, like he’s bracing himself for something that’s coming. “You don’t fix it, Sylvie. You embrace it. You accept what you are, what you’ve always been. It’s time. This is your destiny. Your fate. Whether you want it to be or not.”

I stare at him, feeling the ground shift beneath me. “You think I’m ready for this? I don’t even know who I am anymore. All of this, everything… it’s too much. I didn’t ask for this.” My breath hitches in my throat, and I can feel my pulse throbbing in my temples. “I just want Lara back. I just want to know why this is happening. Why her? Why me?”

He steps closer again, his hand resting gently on my arm, and the coolness of his touch sends a shiver through me. “I know you didn’t ask for this. No one would. But it’s your fate, Sylvie. It’s written in blood. In your blood.” His voice lowers, almost a whisper now. “You and Lara… you’re connected to something older than both of you. Something powerful that you must see through.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure. My throat feels tight, and the room seems to close in on me. “So that’s it? I just… accept it? Accept that I’m part of this prophecy, and that Lara is dead, and that now I’m supposed to… what?” I feel a wave of anger wash over me, hot and overwhelming. “I don’t even know how to handle any of this.”

His expression softens, his eyes sad but understanding. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But you do need to trust that you have the strength to get through this. You always have.” He moves a step back, his gaze steady. “You’re not just a hunter, Sylvie. You are a witch. You’re the hunter born of twins—you hold the power to change things. To tip the scales of fate. But you need to understand that your actions, your decisions, they will have consequences. This path you’re walking… it’s going to test you. It’s going to push you in ways you never thought possible.”

I look at him, feeling his words settle over me like a heavy cloak. “Consequences?” My voice is barely a whisper. “I couldn’t even save my sister. I couldn’t protect her. And now I’m supposed to be part of something bigger. It’s laughable.”

He nods solemnly, his gaze never leaving mine. “You couldn’t save Lara because you weren’t mean to save her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stop whatever is coming next. You can still change things, Sylvie. But only if you accept the power that’s inside you. Don’t run from it.”

I turn away from him, my fingers gripping the edge of a nearby table. My mind is spinning with everything he’s said. How am I supposed to accept this? How do I just… be something I don’t even understand? A sense of helplessness rises within me.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with this power,” I mutter, half to myself, half to him. “How do I use it? What if I can’t control it?”

He steps closer, his voice low and steady. “You will learn, Sylvie. It won’t happen all at once, but you will learn. And I’ll help you. Blackthorne can help you. It’s part of the reason you’re here. Why your parents came here. Why fate led you here.”

I glance back at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. There’s something in his eyes now—something softer than I’ve ever seen before. Something that makes my heart beat a little faster. “Why are you helping me?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. “You barely know me.”

His gaze softens even more, and he takes another step forward, close enough that I can feel the heat of his presence. “I know you more than you think, Sylvie. I’ve watched you grow, watched you fight, and watched you make choices that shaped your fate. That shaped my fate. But this is not for you to know now. We’ll talk about this once you get your bearings and things settle for you.” His voice drops. “For now, I may not know all of what’s coming, but I do know one thing. You have the strength to handle this. To change what’s written. If anyone can, it’s you.”

His words feel like a lifeline, like an anchor, though they don’t fully ease the mixture of confusion and pain inside me. I’m still reeling from everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours—Lara’s death, Isabel’s cryptic warnings, and the revelation that I’m part of some ancient prophecy. My head feels like it’s going to explode, and I don’t know how to breathe through it all.

He watches me, his eyes flicking to the door behind me, where the echoes of my frantic pounding still seem to hang in the air. “There are people who will try to help. And there are those who will try to stop you. But you have to be ready. For what’s coming. For what’s already started.”

My chest tightens as his words sink in, but before I can respond, there’s a sudden knock at the door.

I turn, startled. Who?—

“Professor?” a voice calls from the other side, soft but insistent. “Is she all right?”

It’s Rebecca. I recognize her voice immediately.

Lucian’s expression darkens, and he looks at me, his gaze hardening with what I can only describe as worry. “Your friends,” he mutters under his breath. “They need to know what’s going on. They can help you, too.”

I nod, though my head is spinning too fast to focus on anything but the fact that Lara is still speaking to me in my mind. That she’s still here, but she’s not, and that I don’t understand what any of this means.

He steps away from me and opens the door, his voice low and controlled. “Come in, Rebecca. We need to talk.”

Rebecca steps inside, her eyes immediately locking on me. She looks at me with concern, but something in her eyes shifts when she sees the stiffness in my posture. She must sense something’s off. “Sylvie,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper, “Are you okay?” She walks over to me swiftly and wraps me in her warm embrace. I’ve never been someone who likes physical touch, but for some reason, I find myself melting into her, nodding stiffly to answer her question.

I don’t feel okay. I don’t feel anything but a hollow weight in my chest, a sense of loss that won’t go away. But for whatever reason, I nod anyway.

Rebecca glances at the professor, then back at me. “I know what Isabel told you. I’ll explain how, but just know...vampires aren’t behind this, Sylvie. It’s the Society. You have to believe me.” She pauses to take a shuddering breath. “We witches have never been ones to stick up for vamps, but what the Society is doing is wrong. They are lying to you, and I can feel it.”

I close my eyes for a brief moment, needing an escape.

Rebecca rattles on and her words become a blur, a cacophony of nothingness that makes no sense.

“I shouldn’t have been tapping into your thoughts, but I wanted to protect you. I heard her lies, and I know how tempting it might?—”

I hold up a hand to stop her, and she does, her words halting.

“I believe you,” I tell her, nodding, looking into her eyes that gleam, matching my own.

I believe her because I believe Lara, and I know—somehow—she is truly speaking to me from somewhere else. I may not be able to understand how, but she is.

I couldn’t save Lara—the least I can do now is honor her.

Believe her.

Fight for her.

To embody everything she was and get the justice she deserves…

If it’s the last fucking thing I do.