131.

The dark claw repeatedly lunged at my throat, relentless and erratic, but each attack fell short, stopped by the same unseen force that had saved me moments before. Still, I refused to yield to fear, letting my taunts drip with scorn.

“Look at you,” I spat, my voice sharp and biting.

“Even now, you can’t manage to sever my neck, can you? Pathetic.”

Nyx howled, his rage growing with each failure.

“No matter how hard you try,” I continued, “the goddess will never spare you a glance. And no matter how desperately you claw at me, you can’t even scratch me!”

I raised the stakes, my voice daring and taunting.

“If you doubt me, prove it. Use your strongest curse—show me what you’ve got!”

Nyx’s entire body seemed to tremble with his fury. The most powerful curse in Alpo’s arsenal didn’t merely kill; it obliterated body and soul, condemning its victim to eternal nothingness.

But Norma had survived that very curse. Somehow, against all odds, his brother Nicholas’s reckless rampage had disrupted the spell, causing it to falter and dissipate. I clung to that slim thread of hope. If it was possible to straddle the line between life and death—neither fully alive nor truly dead—then perhaps I could rewrite this accursed narrative.

‘If my soul could briefly slip into that in-between, maybe Ophelia’s power would finally return to her.’

It was an untested theory, nothing more. But if it succeeded, it would defy the story’s demand for Aisa McFoy’s death. And that was reason enough to try.

Still, I couldn’t be sure. Could Ophelia’s fragmented power deflect the full force of Nyx’s curse? Did this so-called “boundary” even exist?

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll find out. Whatever it takes, I’ll survive.’

The story couldn’t be stopped; I’d long accepted that. It would only end one of two ways: with my death or with me hovering precariously on the brink of it.

“You vile wench!” Nyx screeched.

“Why? I killed you! I killed you first, so why are you still alive?”

“And how long are you going to flail like this? Come on, Nyx, try harder! Kill me already, you useless idiot!”

My retort was venomous, leaving no room for retreat. Nyx’s incoherent rage surged, and he raised his arm high, preparing his next attack.

‘Please let this work.’

I’d mocked him boldly, but I couldn’t forget: Nyx’s deal with Alpo had given him powers that mimicked a god’s. He didn’t need circles, incantations, or true names to wield his curses.

“Die! Forever!”

Nyx roared, his voice a crescendo of fury.

“Be destroyed—body and soul! Never return!”

A shroud of black particles coalesced around him, swirling like an ominous storm. My instincts screamed, and I shut my eyes tight. This would be the last time I’d see his wretched face.

“You disgusting worm! Just die already!”

“Screw you, you bastard!”

I shouted, pouring every ounce of defiance into my voice.

Then it hit. A sensation like a slow backward pull overtook me, and I remembered the sheer drop behind me. My eyes snapped open. Time itself seemed to slow, the world grinding to an eerie halt.

The curse had begun.

I could feel it—Nyx’s deadly spell unraveling my being, dismantling me piece by piece. It was like being swallowed by a cold, damp fog, sinking endlessly into a murky abyss.

My hand, half-raised in instinctive defense, began to splinter. On the surface, it appeared intact, but I knew better. It was falling apart, slowly, inexorably.

‘Now’s the time to stop this.’

The creeping destruction brought a strange, bitter relief. My theory had held. Desperately, I called for Ophelia, her power flaring to life at my plea. A brilliant, warm light flooded my vision, slowing the curse’s spread.

‘I can survive this.’

For a fleeting moment, hope surged in my chest. But then, inexplicably, Ophelia’s light began to waver. Like a dying flame, it dimmed and faltered.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, panic rising.

The cold, suffocating presence surged back with renewed force, consuming me faster than before. *Was Ophelia powerless to stop my death after all?*

Even as my body tilted backward toward the void, my thoughts refused to leave Nyx. His grotesque face filled my fading vision, twisted with deranged triumph.

‘You bastard. You’re really going to kill me after all.’

“—Aisa!”

The shout pierced the haze, startling me. It was impossible, but unmistakable. I had longed to hear that voice for what felt like an eternity.

“Norma?” I whispered in disbelief.

A blur appeared before me, vivid and real. It was him—running toward me, his face a mix of fear and desperation. He reached out, and without thinking, I extended my hand to meet his.

But even as our fingers nearly brushed, clarity struck like a bolt. This place, this moment, was dangerous. If I pulled him into this cursed space, he could be lost forever.

‘No. Not him. Not Norma.’

The thought overwhelmed everything else. I recoiled, snatching my hand back.

Instead, I whispered.

“I love you.”

The words spilled out instinctively, a promise I’d made to myself countless times. I had always intended to tell him the moment we met again.

Whether he heard me, I couldn’t say. My senses were almost completely gone, my vision blurring into white.

Norma’s face twisted in anguish—an expression I had never seen before.

‘That’s not right. If he’d heard me, he would have smiled, wouldn’t he? He’d have blushed, happier than anyone in the world.’

The thought struck a deep pang of regret. If this was truly the end, I’d accomplished nothing. I’d left everything unfinished.

The encroaching light swallowed me whole. It was warm, gentle, and heartbreakingly familiar. It felt like him.

And then, there was nothing.

* * *

Ophelia’s fingers trembled as she clutched the crumpled note, its edges mangled from the force of her grip.

“What does it say?”

Ganor’s voice was sharp, his expression darkening as he stared at her pale face.

Ophelia raised her head slowly, her eyes wide with fear, her complexion devoid of color.

“When did she write this?”

“Exactly a week ago today. Now tell me—what’s written that has you like this?”

The moment Ganor mentioned a week, Ophelia’s face twisted in raw despair. Her reaction was so alarming that Ganor faltered, his unfinished words hanging heavy in the air.

“We have to go to McFoy. Now. There’s no time for this!” she muttered frantically, the words spilling out in an endless stream. Then, her voice rose in a desperate shout.

“Jack! The horses!”

Ganor, distrust flickering in his eyes, snatched the note from her trembling hands. The contents hit him like a blow, the weight of her reaction suddenly all too clear.

“Aisa McFoy’s moment of death?” he read aloud, his voice incredulous.

“What the hell is this nonsense?”

Pure madness. Absolute, unrelenting madness.

The betrayal hit Ganor harder than anything Aisa had done before. She’d claimed finding Ophelia was the key to her survival, yet this—this note spoke only of death. The betrayal stung worse than their very first encounter.

Without hesitation, the three of them pushed their horses westward, racing toward McFoy. The hooves thundered against the forest paths, the trees blurring into streaks of green as they rode. Through it all, Ophelia’s tears didn’t stop, flowing freely, her sobs intermingled with the pounding of hooves.

It was when the gates of McFoy finally came into view that disaster struck.

Ophelia, as if struck by lightning, suddenly lost her grip on the reins. Her body tumbled from her horse, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“Ophelia!”

Jack, closest to her, leapt from his saddle, rolling across the grass as he caught her mid-fall. They tumbled together, coming to rest in a heap.

“Ah…”

Ophelia groaned faintly, her back pressed against the cool grass. Above her, the deep blue sky stretched endlessly, as vivid and piercing as her own eyes.

That same serene beauty brought fresh tears to her eyes, this time not from the pain of her fall.

“No, no, Aisa… Please,” she whispered hoarsely.

That familiar, horrifying sensation returned—a creeping, sickening feeling that she had once experienced before.

“No!”

She screamed, the raw force of her voice splitting the quiet air.

And then it happened.

A brilliant golden light erupted in the distance, piercing through the vivid blue sky like a sword. The light surged upward, its radiance spreading, engulfing the heavens. It poured forth like an unrelenting torrent, flooding everything with its overwhelming brilliance.

Ophelia could only watch, helpless, as the dazzling light raced toward her. She tried to resist the crushing wave of emotions, but her eyelids fluttered shut as her body sagged.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as fat raindrops began to fall, mingling with her tears.

The power surged through her, raw and infinite, welling up from deep within her core. It was a force both familiar and alien, as if it had always been hers yet did not belong.

As the radiant energy consumed her, Ophelia’s mind drifted to the day she had whispered her wish to the goddess.

 

“I want Aisa McFoy to live happily, for a long, long time.”

 

And yet, for what purpose? If it would always end like this, what was the point of anything?

As Ophelia sank further into the abyss of despair, her thoughts fragmented. The boundless energy filling her felt like an unbearable weight. It was as though her very soul was unraveling, sinking despite the overwhelming vitality surging through her.

Her wish had been for happiness, but all she felt now was an endless, suffocating loss.