Page 32 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)

The world is soft when I wake. Dreamlike. For a moment, I’m lost in the quiet and it’s quite the same as any other day. It’s the kind of silence only time itself can bring. It’s not the first time I’ve felt it—this stillness. But this time, it feels different. As though something is watching, waiting, pulling at the edges of my consciousness.

I feel the warmth beside me before I see her. I crack my eyes open, shards of light filtering into the room, breaking through the curtains. Sylvie. She’s here, perched in a chair that’s pulled right up next to my bed, her body wrapped in the kind of exhaustion only a person like her could understand—someone who has faced trial after trial. Her face is serene, eyes closed, but there’s rigidity in her features that betrays her weariness. Her hair falls in soft waves, framing her face like some fragile crown, and I notice our hands are clasped together. Her palm resting in mine.

I watch her for a long moment, my thoughts a muddled haze, unwilling to break the silence. I could stay like this for the rest of my life, our fingers intertwined, safe, and I’d be happy.

Her breath is steady. Her pulse is too. But beneath that calm, there is a beat of something stronger, something ancient. It hums within her, unseen yet undeniable. The magic. Her bloodline. But even deeper—something more. The strength of the power surging beneath her skin, something I never fully realized until this very moment.

She is more powerful than even I gave her credit for.

There’s a faint, almost imperceptible glow beneath her skin—a soft shimmer that matches the warmth of my own body, still recovering.

I clench my eyes shut and allow my subconscious memories to replay, one of my vampiric abilities—I never have to wonder about what happens, even while sleeping, even while unconscious.

What I remember is the silver chains being thrown over me, cutting through my flesh. I remember the witch’s ugly sneer. From those moments on I have to rely on said abilities.

I see the chamber.

Sylvie and her power, the way her face twisted when she saw my nearly lifeless body.

And then, I see how bold and beautiful she became in the face of total uncertainty.

How she got us both out of that desolate chamber using only her intuition—finally trusting herself.

How she dragged my body through that chamber, up a flight of stairs, and through the dense Blackthorne forest before taking a break. And then, how she picked me back up and forged on until getting to my estate. She was so close to giving up, giving in, but every time she needed a push, her magic came through just in time.

A faint, familiar scent in the air pulls my attention, and I open my eyes, interrupting the flashback. Blood. I look down and see the blood bag hooked to my arm, its contents flowing steadily into me, reviving what I had lost. Memories of Sylvie pouring her blood into my throat come rearing back, and I’m certain that’s what saved me. Our blood, hers and mine, it’s more magical than anything I’ve ever encountered, and I have no doubt that is why I’m still here.

Her blood is a lifeforce.

The door creaks open, and Dorian steps inside, his gaze immediately snapping to Sylvie, then to me. His eyes narrow slightly, a knowing flicker passing through them. He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches, calculating.

“She was here all night,” he finally says, his voice soft but tinged with concern. “I sensed something was wrong. Came to check on you. Found her trying to get you inside by herself... her magic was deeply waning.” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “She was exhausted. Utterly spent.”

I blink, processing his words. Sylvie. Trying to bring me back. On her own. The way her powers helped her carry me.

He continues, his voice lowering, eyes never leaving Sylvie. “She told me everything, Lucian. That they need both her blood and Lara’s. She’s already tapped into something... something old, something powerful. Something dangerous.” His gaze shifts to me, studying my face. “She feels connected to you. You haven’t told her of the past. What are you waiting for, Lucian?”

I turn my gaze back to Sylvie, my chest tightening. I’ve felt it, too. The way her presence lingers, how it wraps around me in ways I can’t explain. But hearing Dorian speak it aloud sends a ripple through me, a tightening in my chest that’s part fear, part awe.

I reach for the side of the bed, my fingertips grazing the cool surface. “What did she say about it?” My voice is hoarse from the silence, abundant with the weight of it.

Dorian’s eyes flicker briefly to Sylvie. “She’s afraid, Lucian. She’s afraid of what she’s becoming. Of what she’s doing. She doesn’t understand how deep this connection runs, how far her power can reach. But I can feel it... It’s not just her lineage anymore. She’s tapping into something ageless.” He pauses, letting the degree of his words settle. “This isn’t just magic. This is fate. And I fear... I fear it might consume her if she’s not careful.”

I don’t speak immediately, letting his words sink in. I’m not sure what scares me more—the power Sylvie is awakening inside of her, or the fact that I’m tied to it. That we’re bound together in ways that defy everything I thought I understood about myself and this curse.

I watch as Sylvie stirs, her brow furrowing slightly. Her sleep is restless, even in her exhaustion. She mutters something softly, and I lean in, catching the words: “I can’t lose him. I can’t... not again.”

I feel something deep inside of me—the part of me that’s lived through centuries, the part that has seen endless suffering and loss—soften. I reach out, fingers brushing against her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. She’s here, with me. She’s back after so many lifetimes. And for reasons I can’t explain, I’m not ready to let her go.

When her eyes finally flutter open, I find myself staring into the depth of her gaze. The same spark that was there when we first met—a flicker of something unspoken, something both fragile and dangerous—remains.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she says, a soft smile on her face.

She moves to sit on the edge of the bed, our hands still pressed together.

“I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did in there, Sylvie. You saved my life, and I am eternally indebted to you,” I tell her, searching her eyes, trying to find out if she’s okay.

I open my mouth to speak again, but before I can, her voice cuts through the silence. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Lucian,” she says, her voice strained with uncertainty. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

I place a hand gently on her shoulder, my touch tender but firm. “You are so much stronger than you think, Sylvie.” A tear rolls down her cheek. She’s finally giving herself permission to not be strong, and it’s captivating. “So much stronger than I gave you credit for. Wise beyond your years. And this power... this connection—it’s not something to fear. But we have to understand it. Together.”

She meets my gaze and nods as I wipe her tear away, a mix of fear and something else—something deeper, more dangerous.

But it’s not the power I’m afraid of.

It’s the cost of it.