The mirror screamed, maybe it was Juliette who screamed but either way, the sound sliced through the mansion like a jagged knife through silk.
She stumbled backward, heart pounding in her ears. Her breath came in ragged bursts as she clutched the edge of the table to steady herself. The shattered mirror still hummed with heat, its frame glowing faintly with the same crimson that painted the sky outside.
In the reflection, she had seen her face but it hadn't been her. Not really. It was warped. Hollow. Eyes pitch black, mouth twisted into a wicked smile that didn't belong on any living woman.
It felt like a warning from the future, or a memory from a past she didn't remember.
Behind her, Elias was already moving, his shoulder bleeding again from the attack earlier. He winced as he approached, but didn't hesitate.
"You weren't supposed to look that long," he said tightly, placing his hand over hers.
Juliette jerked away. "That thing, it showed me myself. But not me. I was older. Pale. Dead, maybe."
"That was a glimpse of what the curse turns you into. A vessel. Once the moon completes its cycle, your soul will no longer be yours."
She turned on him. "Why didn't you warn me? You knew that mirror was dangerous."
"I tried"
"You always try. But you never say anything until it's too late."
The silence between them burned.
Juliette walked toward the broken mirror, glass crunching under her boots.
"You said there's a ritual," she muttered. "To stop the curse before it completes. Before I become that."
Elias nodded reluctantly. "There is. But it's not without cost."
"Everything in this damn house has a price," she spat. "So tell me, what is it this time?"
He hesitated. Then said, "You must offer up what anchors you to this world. Whatever binds you most to your humanity."
She blinked. "A possession?"
"No. A person. A memory. A feeling. You have to sever the thing that grounds your soul, what you love most."
Juliette froze.
Suddenly, the room felt colder.
She turned her gaze back to him. His lips were parted slightly, his breath shallow, and in his eyes, she saw something he hadn't said.
"You mean… you, don't you?"
Elias dropped his gaze.
Juliette's laugh came out bitter. "Let me guess. This was the plan all along? Get close to me. Make me trust you. Make me feel something. And then offer yourself up like a noble sacrifice."
"No," he said softly. "I never meant to fall in love with you."
The words struck her like thunder.
She took a shaky step back. "Don't say that."
"I mean it, Juliette. Every lie I told, every truth I withheld, I regret all of it. But not you. Never you."
The crimson moonlight bathed the room in shadows. Outside, wind howled through the old oak trees. The house moaned, alive, listening.
Juliette crossed her arms tightly. "So what happens if I refuse the ritual?"
"The curse consumes you," Elias replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "The First Witch's soul binds to yours. She lives again. You die, inside."
Suddenly the candles in the room flared, then died.
Juliette gasped as darkness swallowed them whole.
Then came the voice.
"Child of blood. Vessel of power. Come to me."
The same voice she'd heard before, in the dream, in the mirror. Cold. Female. Ancient.
Juliette clutched her ears. "No. No! Get out of my head!"
Elias reached for her, but she pushed him away.
The floor beneath them pulsed. Runes carved into the stone began to glow red-hot, casting eerie patterns onto the walls. The mansion trembled.
A door creaked open on its own.
Juliette turned.
It was the hidden chamber, behind the study. The one her grandmother had always kept locked.
Drawn like a moth to flame, Juliette moved forward.
Inside, the walls were covered in portraits, every Armand woman for generations. Their eyes followed her.
At the center stood a pedestal. On it, a silver dagger and a scroll bound in crimson ribbon.
"The ritual scroll," Elias murmured behind her. "Your grandmother must've prepared it for you."
Juliette touched the scroll, her fingertips tingling as she did.
She could feel it, power. Old and raw. Her breath caught as visions flashed through her again:
A woman burning at the stake, screaming curses.
A child walking alone through snow, whispering spells.
A bride soaked in blood, her veil torn.
She dropped the scroll. "I don't want this. I didn't ask for any of this."
"I know," Elias said gently. "But it's yours."
She turned to him, tears finally spilling down her cheeks.
"If I do this... if I give up the person I love, if I let go of you, what do I become after?"
Elias stepped closer. "You become free."
"Do I forget you?"
He hesitated. "That's... up to the curse. But your bond with me will be severed. Emotionally. Spiritually. Permanently."
She let out a shaky breath.
He was her anchor.
The only person who saw past the shadows and still reached for her.
And fate demanded she let him go.
That night, Juliette sat at the center of the ritual circle, the dagger in her lap, the scroll unrolled before her.
Elias stood at the edge, silent.
Every candle in the room flickered with the energy of the blood moon overhead.
Juliette began to chant the ancient words, her voice steady at first, then trembling.
"I, Juliette Armand, daughter of the bloodline...
call forth my shadow to break the bond...
I sever what holds me. I abandon the anchor.
I choose myself."
As the final word left her lips, the runes on the floor blazed to life.
A shockwave rippled through the room.
The dagger lifted into the air on its own.
Juliette clutched her chest, an ache deep in her soul, like her heart was being torn from its roots.
And then...
Elias cried out.
His body arched back, light bursting from his chest. A tether, golden and shimmering, connected them, heart to heart.
It pulsed once.
Twice.
Then the dagger sliced through it.
The light vanished.
Juliette collapsed.
When she opened her eyes, she was on the floor, breathing heavily. Her chest felt hollow. Her fingers numb.
Elias knelt across from her.
But his eyes were no longer soft.
No warmth.
No memory.
He stood slowly, silent.
"Elias?" she whispered.
He looked at her, confused. "Do I... know you?"