# Chapter 265:

# Chapter 265:
Melinda's POV

"Really? You have a way?" I asked, my voice trembling with sudden hope as I stared at Marcus. I barely dared to believe what I was hearing, afraid to let myself feel that flicker of possibility after so much despair.

Marcus nodded, his fingers resting lightly on my shoulder. His blue eye seemed to glow with excitement. "Come with me. I'll explain as we go." His voice was calm yet determined, offering me the first sense of reassurance since Michael had been stabbed.

I hurried alongside Marcus, matching his swift pace toward the medical room. My heart was racing, partly from exertion but mostly from desperate hope. "Luna said the 'Unsolvable Poison' has no antidote," I said, trying to keep my breathing steady. "Even the doctors were helpless. Are you sure you can help him?"

"Melinda, I've lived for ages and seen far more complicated situations than this," Marcus explained, his voice carrying the weight of accumulated wisdom. "I examined Michael and the knife that wounded him. The issue isn't what you think it is."

I stopped abruptly, confusion washing over me. Several palace guards passed us, giving Marcus suspicious glances that I barely noticed. "What do you mean? If it's not the poison, then what is it?"

"The focus shouldn't be on the poison itself," Marcus lowered his voice, leaning closer. "It's the knife. I recognized it the moment I saw it—it's an ancient cursed weapon."

A chill crawled up my spine, making me shiver despite the warm air of the corridor. "Cursed?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes. That's why it's called the 'Unsolvable Poison,'" Marcus explained, his tone grave. "Because it's not merely poison, but a curse. The poison is merely a carrier, but what's truly killing Michael is the curse that came with the blade. That's why conventional antidotes are ineffective."

We entered the medical room where Michael lay unconscious, his complexion even paler than before. My chest tightened at the sight of him, and I couldn't help but reach out to touch his burning forehead, my throat constricting with emotion.

"Look," Marcus pointed toward Michael's arm where the wound was located. The black lines had spread all the way to his shoulder now, creating an intricate, almost beautiful pattern that belied its deadly nature. "These aren't ordinary signs of toxin spreading. They're the markings of the curse."

I studied the strange black lines carefully. They didn't follow the normal pattern of blood vessels that would indicate poison traveling through the bloodstream. Instead, they formed deliberate patterns, almost like dark tattoos spreading across his skin.

"In my long years, I've seen similar cases," Marcus continued, his bony fingers hovering over the marks without touching them. "This curse is ancient black magic. Once triggered, it slowly consumes the victim's life force until it's completely drained."

"What can we do?" I asked urgently, gripping the edge of the bed to steady myself. "Is there a way to break this curse?"

Marcus was silent for a moment, his skull tilted slightly as if in deep thought. Then he nodded. "There is a way, but we'll need to prepare some special materials and perform a ritual. Most importantly, we need to find specific information about this particular curse."

"Tell me what you need, and I'll get it right away," I said firmly, ready to do anything to save Michael. The medical part of my brain noted how his breathing had become more labored in the short time since I'd last seen him. We were running out of time.

Marcus placed a hand on my shoulder. "I need you to go to the royal library and find a book called 'The Shadow Curse Chronicles.' It should contain detailed information about this type of curse and how to break it. I'll prepare the other necessary materials."

At the medical room doorway, I hesitated, looking back at Marcus's serious expression. "Why don't we go together? You know more about these curses, and maybe you could help me find the book faster."

"Time is of the essence," Marcus shook his head, his voice low. "Look at Michael's condition. The black markings are approaching his heart. If we don't hurry, he might not make it to dawn. Working separately will save us precious time."

Though feeling something not quite right, I bit my lower lip, glancing once more at Michael on the bed, and nodded. "Where will you go? What materials do you need?"

"Some special herbs and ritual items," Marcus seemed to avoid my gaze, as if contemplating something. "You focus on finding that book. Once you have it, wait for me at the library. Don't waste time coming back here, understand?"

The royal library was breathtaking—and overwhelming. Shelves stretched from floor to vaulted ceiling, filled with more books than I could read in a lifetime. Under different circumstances, I would have been awestruck. Now, I just felt the crushing weight of impossible odds.

Where do I even start?

My medical training had taught me to approach problems systematically. Break it down, Melinda. I scanned the enormous room, noting the different sections. Ancient texts to the left, magical studies in the center, scientific and medical volumes to the right.

"Curses would be... magical, right?" I muttered to myself, heading toward the towering shelves in the central area. The first few books I pulled were useless—theoretical discussions of magic without any practical applications. My initial burst of determination began to waver as I moved deeper into the stacks.

Book after book yielded nothing. I developed a rhythm—scan the index for keywords like "curse," "shadow," "poison," then move on when nothing appeared. My fingers grew dusty, my neck stiff from craning to read spines on higher shelves.

"There has to be something," I whispered, frustration building as I abandoned the magic section and moved to historical texts. Maybe the book wasn't categorized where I expected? "Michael's counting on me."

Hours slipped by as I searched through section after section, my hope dwindling with each passing minute. The magic section had yielded nothing. Neither did medical texts or historical records. My back ached from bending over tomes. My eyes burned from squinting at faded text by candlelight after the servants had left for the night.

I leaned against a shelf, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me. What if the book isn't even here? What if Marcus was wrong? The thought sent a wave of panic through me. Without that book, Michael would...

No. I can't think like that. I pushed away from the shelf, forcing myself to keep moving despite my body's protests. He would never give up on me.

Midnight came and went. The library grew eerily silent, shadows dancing between shelves as candles flickered. I was about to collapse from exhaustion when my gaze landed on a small, locked cabinet tucked away in a corner.

A small plaque read: Forbidden Knowledge.

Something inside me—intuition or desperation—pulled me toward it. Using the authority my father had granted me, I convinced a reluctant guard to bring me the key, ignoring his warnings about the texts within.

The cabinet creaked open to reveal books bound in materials I didn't want to identify. Titles like "Origins of Blood Magic" and "The Art of Death" stared back at me, but it was a worn, dark red tome that caught my eye.

The Shadow Curse Chronicles.

My fingers trembled as I pulled it from the shelf, the weight of it surprising me. The leather cover felt warm, almost alive under my touch. I suppressed a shudder and carried it to the nearest table.

Page after page of horrific curses and their effects—some with illustrations so disturbing I had to look away. Dawn was approaching by the time I found it—a drawing of black markings identical to those spreading across Michael's skin.

"The Curse of Eternal Shadows," I read aloud, voice hoarse from disuse. My heart hammered as I scanned the text, hope rising with each word until—

The curse may only be broken through willing sacrifice of a soul equal in power to the cursed.

My blood ran cold as understanding dawned. Marcus's insistence on splitting up. His vague answers about what he needed to prepare. His instruction not to return to the medical room.

He's going to sacrifice himself for Michael.

I bolted for the door with the book clenched in my hands. Dawn light streamed through the windows—how long had Michael been alone with Marcus? How much time did I have?

Please don't let me be too late.