Third Point of view
The moon hung low over the blackened towers of Erosia, casting silver shadows across the cold stone walls of the royal palace. Inside the grand hall, King Sebastian sat alone on his throne, eyes burning with a fierce light that no crown could contain. His dark hair fell like a curtain over his sharp jawline, and the heavy cloak wrapped around his broad shoulders did little to hide the tension coiling beneath his skin.
Tonight, the curse stirred.
It had been three years since the forbidden ritual bound Sebastian's fate to a hunger that no mortal man should ever bear—a lust that gnawed at his soul and threatened to unravel his kingdom. To survive, he needed power. Not just the power of armies or gold, but the power of desire—women whose passion could feed the curse and keep it at bay.
And so he built his harem.
But power had a price.
A sharp knock echoed through the hall, breaking the silence. Sebastian's gaze snapped to the towering double doors as they creaked open. A figure slipped inside—a woman dressed in black leather, her steps silent like a shadow.
Serena.
The spy.
The first of the many enemies who would become his lovers.
Her eyes, cold and calculating, locked with his. "Your Majesty," she said smoothly, voice like silk over steel.
Sebastian's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Serena. You come to kill me, or to seduce me?"
She said nothing, merely dropped a folded piece of parchment at his feet. The seal was broken. Her message was clear: the rebellion was closer than he thought.
He unfolded the letter with one hand, his other resting casually on the hilt of his dagger.
"The Queen's blood will stain your throne. The curse will be your downfall."
Sebastian's jaw tightened. The queen—Mira—the witch who had once been a trusted advisor, had betrayed him.
The curse pulsed stronger, as if feeding on his fury.
Without warning, the hall's massive doors slammed open again, and a new figure stormed in—Lyra, the assassin whose hatred burned as fiercely as his own.
"You trust a witch who plots against you?" she spat, stepping forward, eyes blazing. "You're a fool, Sebastian. Your kingdom will fall, and I'll be the one to end you."
Sebastian rose from his throne, towering over both women. "Then you'd better make sure you do it first."
The three of them stood like predators in a cage, tension crackling in the air.
Before the first move could be made, a distant explosion shattered the night. Flames flickered through the windows as screams echoed from the palace gardens.
"The rebellion," Sebastian growled.
Serena's eyes darkened. "They're here."
Chaos erupted.
---
The palace shook as another blast tore through the east wing. A fireball lit up the courtyard, and the faint sound of metal clashing rang out like war drums.
Sebastian's sword was already in his hand.
"Stay behind me," he ordered sharply.
"I'm not one of your pets," Lyra snapped, twin daggers flashing from beneath her cloak.
Serena pulled a curved blade from her thigh holster. "Neither am I. But I didn't come all this way to die because your palace has the defense of a brothel."
Sebastian smirked, despite the chaos. "You've never been to my brothel."
Then he was moving, boots pounding over marble floors, the two deadly women flanking him like shadows. They burst out into the corridor, where smoke and blood mingled in the air.
Bodies lay sprawled—guards, servants, rebels—some cut clean, others charred.
"They're inside already," Serena muttered. "You've been compromised."
"No," Sebastian said grimly. "She's inside."
He meant Queen Mira.
The witch.
The one who had cursed him.
The one he once loved.
They turned a corner and found her.
Mira stood in the center of the grand corridor, her golden eyes glowing with dark magic, her emerald robes slick with blood. Around her lay a circle of dead guards, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
"Sebastian," she cooed, voice honeyed and venomous. "Still clinging to your throne?"
"You should've stayed dead," he growled, stepping forward.
But Mira raised her hand, and black tendrils of smoke rose from the corpses at her feet. They jerked, twisted, and stood once more—puppets of her forbidden magic.
"I told you," she whispered, "you can't escape the curse."
Lyra snarled and charged without hesitation, slicing through two risen guards with brutal efficiency. Serena darted to the side, blade singing as she fought her way toward Mira.
Sebastian followed, fury in his veins, the curse within him roaring to be unleashed.
But Mira didn't flinch. "Your harem will betray you," she hissed, blocking Serena's blade with a wall of arcane fire. "Every woman who tastes your touch feeds the curse. It grows stronger every time you take one to your bed."
Sebastian stopped short, breath catching. The curse was never meant to be broken—it was meant to consume.
"No," he said, voice hoarse. "That's not—"
"Oh, but it is," Mira whispered, stepping closer as her undead minions closed in. "You think you're using them to survive. But in truth, they're the ones being devoured."
Serena faltered. Lyra's steps slowed.
"Is it true?" Lyra hissed.
"I didn't know," Sebastian snapped, slashing a puppet clean in half. "Mira's the one who—"
Mira's hand shot forward. Dark magic slammed into Sebastian's chest, throwing him into the stone wall with a sickening crunch.
"Let him suffer," she said sweetly.
Lyra leapt to shield his fallen form as Mira turned to vanish into the smoke.
"She's going for the throne room," Serena spat. "If she reaches the Black Sigil, she can complete the spell."
Sebastian groaned, blood in his mouth. "Stop her… before she unlocks it."
Lyra hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Serena, then back to him.
"What if Mira's right?" she asked. "What if every woman you take just feeds the monster inside you?"
Sebastian grabbed her wrist, voice low and savage. "Then let it. I will burn this kingdom to the ground before I let that witch win."
Their eyes locked—for a moment, there was nothing but fire between them.
Then Lyra rose, blades gleaming.
"Then I'll kill for you," she said. "But if I see you turning, I'll kill you too."
Serena smirked. "Same."
And they ran.
Through the corridors drenched in blood, through the smoke and screams of a dying palace. Toward the throne room, toward Mira, toward the power that would decide the fate of Erosia.
When they reached the throne room, the doors were already open.
And Mira stood there, her hand on the obsidian Black Sigil—a relic of old gods, carved into the floor before the throne. The air crackled around her as ancient power surged.
Sebastian stumbled forward, clutching his ribs. "Don't touch it."
She turned slowly.
Too late.
The sigil flared, light blinding, power screaming.
The curse inside Sebastian writhed, hungry.
"Sebastian," Mira said, tears in her eyes, voice trembling now. "I never wanted this. But if I can't have you, I'll make sure no one can."
Then she drove the dagger into her chest.
And blood splashed across the sigil.
The throne room exploded with darkness.