Chapter 105

Chapter 105
The Cursed Girl’s POV

I learned the truth on a night that smelled like rain.

It began quietly. Too quietly.

The royal wing slept early these days, as if the palace itself were holding its breath. I sat at the small desk by the window, candle low, pretending to read while listening to the sounds beyond the walls. Footsteps. Guards changing. The distant hum of a city learning how to govern itself without shouting.

I touched the place at my wrist where the curse sometimes burned.

It was calm tonight.

That should have warned me.

A soft knock came at my door. Three taps. Careful. Measured.

No servant knocked like that.

I stood, heart quickening, and crossed the room. “Who is it?”

“Hara,” came the answer. “Open. Quietly.”

I unlatched the door. She slipped inside and closed it behind her, already scanning the shadows as if expecting them to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I said.

“Neither are you,” she replied. “Not really.”

That sent a chill through me. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer at once. Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Old. The edges were worn soft, like it had been handled too many times.

“I was told to destroy this years ago,” she said. “I didn’t.”

She placed it on the desk between us.

I stared at it. “What is it?”

“A record,” she said. “A correction.”

I swallowed. “Correction of what?”

Hara met my eyes. For once, her sharp humor was gone.

“Of the prophecy,” she said.

The word felt heavier than stone.

“That’s impossible,” I said. “The prophecy is—”

“—recited,” she cut in. “Repeated. Sanitized. Passed down by people who benefited from it staying vague.”

She nodded toward the parchment. “This is the part they removed.”

My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.

The writing was older than the palace, the ink faded but still clear enough to read. I recognized the rhythm immediately—the same measured language used in every prophecy lesson I had been forced to endure.

But these words were different.

They named things.

They named me

I read in silence, my breath growing shallow with every line.

The curse will not bind the mate.

It will bind the crown.

The girl marked by shadow is not the ruin of the Alpha—

She is the mirror.

My vision blurred.

“This—this changes everything,” I whispered.

“Yes,” Hara said. “Which is why it was buried.”

I looked up at her. “They said I was dangerous because of what I would become.”

“They lied,” she said flatly. “You’re dangerous because of what you already are.”

My hand clenched around the parchment. “Why show me this now?”

“Because they’re moving,” she said. “Quietly. There’s a vote being prepared.”

“A vote?” My chest tightened. “About what?”

“About you,” she said. “Whether the curse can be ‘contained’ permanently.”

The word made my skin crawl. “Contained how?”

Hara didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

I pushed away from the desk and began pacing, the room suddenly too small. “They can’t. I haven’t done anything.”

“That’s never stopped them before,” she said.

“What about Alora? Darren?” I demanded.

“They don’t know,” Hara said. “Not yet.”

I stopped. “Then we tell them.”

Hara shook her head. “If you go to them with this, it becomes political. The council will spin it. The king will delay. The queen will calculate.”

I faced her. “Then what do you suggest?”

Her eyes held mine, steady and sharp.

“You decide who you are before they decide for you.”

The curse stirred then.

Not pain. Not fire.

Recognition.

Images flickered behind my eyes—not visions, but memories that were not mine. A crown cracking. A throne standing empty. A city kneeling, not in fear, but in choice.

I staggered and grabbed the edge of the desk.

“You see it too, don’t you?” Hara asked quietly.

“Yes,” I breathed. “And I think… I think it’s waking up.”

She nodded. “That’s the twist they never planned for.”

A sudden sound outside—the scrape of a boot. Voices. Guards approaching.

Hara moved fast. “Hide the parchment.”

I shoved it beneath the loose stone near the hearth just as the door opened.

A guard stood there, expression stiff. “Lady. You’re requested in the lower hall. Immediately.”

“By whom?” I asked, forcing my voice steady.

“By order of the council,” he said. “And the king.”

Hara stepped forward. “At this hour?”

The guard hesitated. “There’s been… an incident.”

My pulse roared in my ears. “What kind of incident?”

He swallowed. “The western watchtower. It collapsed.”

“What?” I said. “Were there casualties?”

“No,” he said quickly. “But the cause is… unclear.”

I exchanged a look with Hara.

Unclear never meant natural.

“I’ll come,” I said.

Hara caught my arm as I passed. Her grip was tight. “Remember what you read.”

“I will,” I said.

The halls felt longer on the way down. Colder. The torches flickered as if uncertain.

When we reached the lower hall, Darren was already there.

So was Alora.

Both turned when I entered.

Relief flashed across Darren’s face—followed by something else. Concern. Calculation.

Alora’s gaze sharpened. She took in my posture, my expression.

“You know something,” she said.

“Yes,” I replied.

Before I could say more, the king raised his hand for silence.

“The watchtower fell without cause,” he said. “No tremor. No sabotage detected.”

His eyes fixed on me.

“And the only unusual presence in the city tonight,” he continued, “was you.”

A murmur rippled through the hall.

I felt the curse stir again—not angry. Not afraid.

Ready.

I stepped forward.

“No,” I said clearly. “The only unusual presence is the truth you’ve been hiding.”

Gasps followed.

The king’s face hardened. “You will choose your next words carefully.”

I met his gaze and did not look away.

“I choose them freely,” I said. “Just like what’s coming next.”

The hall went silent.

And somewhere deep beneath the palace, something old and patient shifted—no longer waiting.

The curse had never been my cage.

It had been my key.

And now, finally, I was ready to turn it.