Chapter 214 Knowing About The Curse
Chapter 214 Knowing About The Curse
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Nana Joyce eyes me with skepticism etched on her face.
After swallowing hard and ensuring my legs aren't trembling from fright, I nod resolutely, "Take me to my husband, Nana Joyce."
"Promise me you won't get emotional and shed tears, "Nana Joyce continues, her tone a mix of concern and sternness.
"I said take me to Calhoun," I respond calmly, my determination overriding the surge of emotions
within me.
It's half an hour after Nana Joyce unravels the tale of the curse that enshrouds our family. It started with Calhoun's grandfather, leading to his tragic demise. Calhoun's father managed to overcome it but succumbed to it later. Now, it's Calhoun's turn to face this haunting legacy.
Nana Joyce proceeds to reveal a truth that cuts through the air like a chilling wind-she wrote the letters herself. Calhoun compelled her to do it, shielding me from the knowledge of his struggles. It takes immense strength within me to hold back tears as she narrates this revelation, my heart bleeding to the point where breathing becomes a challenge.
"What is Calhoun's current condition?" I manage to ask after a heavy pause.
"Just prepare your heart to see him, Kristen. It won't be easy, but you need to be strong for yourself and for him," Nana Joyce advises, her eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and concern. She then leads me to the room where she says Calhoun is staying.
Swallowing hard, I say nothing else, the fear of what I might witness intensifying with every step.
Eventually, we arrive at the room. Hoping Nana Joyce would simply push the door open, my stomach churns as she slips a key from her purse and unlocks the door. Panic and desperation swell within me- this can't be real. Calhoun, my alpha, cannot be confined like this due to some curse from his grandmother when he is innocent. He shouldn't be locked away like some vulnerable creature.
Trembling uncontrollably, I fear the impending sight. Could I be on the verge of witnessing something that will scar me for life?
The door swings open, revealing the unknown that lies within. I brace myself for whatever awaits on the other side, my heart pounding in rhythm with my growing trepidation.
My legs give way beneath me, and I drop to the floor, a desperate hand clamping over my mouth to stifle the scream that threatens to escape. Tears stream down my cheeks like a cascade of sorrow, and my heart shatters within my chest.
Calhoun lay in the bed, clad in a simple white
garment. The room was filled with an oppressive stillness.
His once powerful frame is now reduced to a bedridden vulnerable man. Paralyzed and trapped within the confines of the curse.
I look at him, and the sight pierces through my soul.
Calhoun is motionless, his blue eyes devoid of the
usual vibrancy, dulled by the cruel grip of his condition. He lies there, a mere shell of the alpha I
knew, incapable of even parting his lips to speak.
Nana Joyce, Calhoun's grandmother, attempts to console me, her voice a fragile reassurance in the face
of overwhelming despair.
"We will find a way to lift this curse, Kristen. I promise." She whispers.
Her words echo in the room, but they offer little comfort as the weight of the situation settles upon me. My mind is a storm of grief, and my heart aches as I gaze at the man I love, a prisoner in his own body.
Calhoun remains motionless in the bed, an eerie silence enveloping the room.
His eyes, once a source of strength and warmth, are now vacant, unable to recognize or acknowledge my
presence
The reality of his condition hits me like a relentless wave, and I weep uncontrollably, my hands trembling as they reach out to touch his lifeless fingers.
As the despair threatens to consume me, Nana Joyce speaks with a somber voice, revealing more of the
truth.
"I need to tell you more, Kristen. More about the curse that has haunted our family. This same curse took Calhoun's grandfather's life and caused me unimaginable suffering." She pauses to sigh.
Her words hang heavy in the air, a revelation that adds another layer to the tragedy unfolding before me. I listen through the haze of my tears, desperate for answers, for anything that could make sense of this nightmare.
Nana Joyce continues, her voice laden with the weight of years of secrets.
"The curse originated from an act of grave injustice. Calhouns grandfather murdered a werewitch, and in her dying breath, she cursed him. This curse binds each alpha in our bloodline when they reach 33. Calhoun's father, my son overcame it, but he later got murdered. Now, Calhoun faces the same fate." As the truth unfurls, I feel a lot of emotions; anger, grief, and a profound sense of helplessness.
"Nana Joyce, I never thought he was suffering like this. It's heart-wrenching to see him this way," I turn to Nana Joyce, the lines of worry etching on my face.
Nana Joyce, with the quiet understanding of one who had faced the cruelties of the curse before, approaches me with a gentle demeanor.
"The road to recovery is a challenging one, Kristen.
Calhoun carries the weight of a curse, and it takes time to lift the shadows it cast upon him," she says
gently.
Tears well in my eyes as I observe Calhoun's struggle, his once powerful frame now confined to the bed.
I take a seat by his side, gently holding his hand.
"He doesn't even remember me. The pain in his eyes... it's unbearable," My voice cracks.
"Memory is a delicate thing, Kristen. We must be
patient and steadfast. The love you share will guide him back to you," Nana Joyce responds, placing a
comforting hand on my shoulder, before quickly withdrawing it.
"I am sorry for trying to separate you two, I feared
you'll leave Calhoun when this time comes. Because I always thought you never loved him as much as he loved you. And it was stupid of me to bring back your mother from Prison." Calhoun's grandmother apologizes, but it doesn't matter to me now.
As my fingers traces the lines on Calhoun's palm, my throat tightens and more tears just fall out. "What can I do, Nana Joyce? How can I break this
curse and bring him back to himself?" I ask with pleading eyes.
"Breaking the curse requires a ritual," Nana Joyce
replies, her gaze softening like she doesn't loathe me.
And I know this weight of responsibility is settled on my shoulders.
"I'll do whatever it takes. Calhoun deserves to be free from this suffering," I say, meaning every word.