Morning came like a forgotten promise—golden rays spilled across the damaged school gym, touching the shattered candles, the broken sigils, and the silent forms of those who had survived the night.
Amara opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the soft light that filtered through the high windows. Her body ached in a way that felt strangely peaceful. There was no weight pressing against her womb. No magic whispering in her veins. No darkness clawing at her soul.
She was… herself.
For the first time in years.
Damon sat beside her, still holding her hand tightly, his eyes never having left her face. When she stirred, relief flooded his features like the tide washing over a broken shore.
"You're alive," he breathed.
Amara smiled softly. "So are you."
Across the gym, Elara and Nyla were helping Liora to her feet. Books were scattered, the grimoire closed and scorched, its power drained. The salt circle had turned to ash, its purpose complete.
Nyla limped toward Amara, her face streaked with soot and blood. "You did it," she said. "You didn't just break the curse… you erased her."
Amara sat up slowly, looking at her hands as if seeing them for the first time. "I didn't know it was possible."
"You burned her with your will," Elara said, standing beside Nyla. "That kind of power doesn't come from magic. It comes from truth."
"And pain," Amara added quietly. "I carried her inside me all these years. Her voice, her hatred, her seed of ruin. But last night… I chose myself."
Damon squeezed her hand. "You chose us, too."
Liora stood behind them, arms folded, eyes conflicted. "You were never just a cursed woman," she said finally. "You were a survivor. But I'm sorry for how I judged you."
Amara nodded. "It's not easy to trust what you don't understand."
The front doors of the gym creaked open, and for a moment everyone froze.
But it was just Principal Verne and a few concerned teachers, drawn by the early morning rumors of lights and screams. They took one look at the scene—at the smoldering candles, the marked floors, the weary faces—and didn't ask questions.
They simply nodded and closed the doors again.
Some truths were better left protected.
Later that day, the school resumed as if nothing had happened. Students returned to classes, unaware of the war fought in the shadows. But a quiet ripple moved through the halls. The air felt lighter. The building warmer.
The curse was gone.
In her classroom, Amara sat behind her desk, a cup of jasmine tea in her hands. Her reflection in the window no longer frightened her. She wore her skin proudly now. No makeup to hide the exhaustion. No perfume to bury the scent of magic. Just her.
A woman.
A fighter.
A survivor.
And she wasn't alone anymore.
Damon knocked gently before stepping in, holding a small potted plant. "Peace lily," he said, setting it on her desk. "Thought it might be time to grow something new."
She smiled, reaching out to touch the leaves. "Thank you."
"Where do we go from here?" he asked.
She met his eyes. "Forward. Together."
They stood quietly, side by side, as students passed outside the door. Laughter. Life. The sound of ordinary things.
And behind them, hidden deep in a locked cabinet, the charred remnants of the Grimoire still rested. Silent. Dormant.
For now.
Far away, in a different city, a girl with silver eyes and a crescent birthmark on her neck stirred in her sleep. She whispered a name she had never heard before.
"Amara…"
A shadow moved in her room.
And the moon, high above, watched everything.
Because curses never truly die.
They wait.
And Book Two is coming.
End of Book One: Cursed by the Moon : Whispers Of The Hidden Moon