Chapter 10: The Choosing

Chapter 10: The Choosing

The sun was setting when they left Diana Rourke’s cottage, but it felt like the night was already wrapping its fingers around Clara’s throat. The feeling of being watched, followed, crept beneath her skin. The darkness in Ashridge was different from the eerie fog of Black Hollow—it was more oppressive, as if the land itself wanted to swallow them whole.

Liam didn’t speak as they walked toward the car. He was deep in thought, his brow furrowed, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

Clara’s mind was reeling. Diana knew. She’d known for years, ever since Evan began to lose control. But it was what Diana had said about the curse choosing that unsettled her most.

It wasn’t just a matter of someone becoming the host it was an active decision. A choosing that rippled out from one bloodline to the next.

And if Diana felt it…

Clara’s pulse quickened.

“She can’t be the next one,” Liam said, as though reading her thoughts. “We can’t let it happen.”

Clara stopped walking, her hand gripping the car’s door. “But she knows. She feels it, too. She knows what’s coming.”

Liam’s voice softened, but there was a harsh edge to it. “But she’s still alive. She’s not a monster. And neither are you, Clara. You won’t become one either. I won’t let it happen.”

Clara didn’t respond right away. The weight of his words pressed down on her. It wasn’t about becoming a monster. It was about surviving it. The curse wasn’t just a punishment; it was an instinct—an uncontrollable force that devoured everything it touched. She could feel its pull, its hunger, crawling inside of her every time the full moon rose.

But as long as she wasn’t the host, as long as it didn’t choose her… maybe she could stop it.

Maybe.

The drive back to Black Hollow was silent, save for the occasional rumble of tires over the gravel roads. The headlights cut through the thickening fog, casting strange shadows that seemed to move just out of reach.

When they arrived at the town, Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole place was waiting. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Black Hollow this quiet, even at night. No lights flickered in the windows. No sounds from the houses or streets.

It felt like a ghost town.

She and Liam drove straight to the church. Father Elijah was there, as always, sitting alone in the chapel.

“Did you find her?” he asked when he saw them.

Clara nodded. “She knows. She feels it, just like Evan did.”

“And?”

“She said it’s moving again. The curse is choosing its next victim.”

Father Elijah didn’t react immediately, just stared at them through his heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re sure?”

Liam crossed his arms. “I’m sure. She’s the last of the Rourkes. If it follows the bloodline…”

Father Elijah sighed and stood, his old bones creaking as he made his way toward the altar. “This is the part of the curse I’d hoped wouldn’t come. The part where you understand that no one is safe.”

Clara blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Bloodlines are strong,” the priest said, his voice low, reverent. “But they also carry the weight of what came before. The curse doesn’t just affect the host it consumes everything it touches. The town, the land, the people…”

Clara felt a chill ripple down her spine. “So, if it’s choosing Diana”

“It won’t stop with her,” Father Elijah finished. “It will feed on everyone, using her as a vessel. It will spread. And once it begins, it will never end.”

Clara swallowed, her hands clenched into fists. “Then we stop it. Now. Before it can take her, before it can”

“You can’t,” Father Elijah interrupted. “You don’t understand. You can’t stop something like this. You can only contain it for so long. It’s been here longer than this town. It’s older than anything you know. The only way to break the curse is to break the bloodline.”

Liam stepped forward. “Break the bloodline? How?”

Father Elijah’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

That night, Clara lay awake in her rented house, the moonlight slanting through the curtains. Every creak of the house, every whisper of the wind through the trees, made her jump. The air felt thick with unease, with something watching, waiting for her to make a move.

The memories of the past few days spun through her mind like a reel of film. The discovery of the curse. The brutal realization that she wasn’t just a victim she was part of it. Every move she made, every step she took, brought her closer to an inevitable end.

The sound of the wind rattling the window broke her focus. She rose slowly, then paused.

There it was again. A faint scratching sound, like nails scraping against wood.

She turned, heart hammering, as the door creaked open.

The figure stood silhouetted against the faint glow from the streetlamp outside. Tall, shadowy, like the embodiment of the night itself. For a moment, Clara’s breath caught—then her mind registered the shape.

“Liam?”

He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice rough. He looked tired, his eyes dark with exhaustion, but there was something else there. Something Clara didn’t recognize. Fear.

“What’s wrong?”

Liam didn’t answer at first. Instead, he crossed the room, stopping just a few feet away from her. The air between them thickened.

“I’ve been thinking about what Father Elijah said,” he said quietly. “About breaking the bloodline.”

Clara’s pulse quickened. “What about it?”

“If it’s the only way…” He trailed off, his hands flexing as if he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with them. “Then maybe we need to break our bloodline first.”

Clara’s blood ran cold. “What are you suggesting?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes flicked to the window.

And for the first time, Clara saw it in his gaze.

A terrible, terrifying truth.