DUSKMOOR: THE FOUR ARE OBSESSED WITH ME

CHAPTER 001: BLACK SIGIL

The slap on my face made a resounding sound across the small room.

"You bitch… You're worthless, Thalira. You bring nothing but bad luck to this house."

Aunt Helena's voice slices through the small kitchen like a blade. Her words don't surprise me—they never do—but tonight, they sting in a way that I simply can't explain.

Maybe because it's almost my birthday. Maybe because I'm actually tired of hearing the same thing every single time.

I grip the edge of the old wooden table so tight that my knuckles turn white. "Please, can you stop saying that?" My voice shakes, but it's firm.

Helena lets out a sharp laugh. "Stop? You want me to stop and start to lie to you instead? Every child in this family has awakened their gifts except you. Even the twins have their powers, and they're just ten years old but you are just seventeen and still completely useless."

My chest burns. "Maybe I'm just different."

"Different as how?" She takes a step closer, her eyes cold. "Different doesn't feed this house. Being different doesn't protect us. You should have never been born. You're a mistake."

Her last words ring in my head like a temple bell.

"At least I didn't drive my own sister to an early grave with my bitterness," I snap back, the words escaping before I can stop them.

Helena's hand flies across my face. The slap echoes through the kitchen, and my cheek burns. For a moment, neither of us moves. Then her eyes narrow into slits.

"How dare you speak of her," she hisses. "You killed her. The moment you drew breath, she lost hers."

Her words crash into me harder than any slap would feel. I feel my throat tighten. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, I mean every word." She picks up a pot from the counter, her movements harsh. "Since the day your mother died giving birth to you, everything went wrong. The crops failed. The rains stopped. You came with bad luck written all over you." She spat.

From the shadowed doorway, a voice cuts through the tension like ice.

"Perhaps the bad luck isn't the child, Helena. Perhaps it's the bitter old woman who blames an infant for fate's cruelty."

We both freeze. A figure steps into the dim candlelight—a woman draped in midnight blue, her face hidden beneath a hood. Silver rings glint on her fingers, and the air around her seems to shimmer.

"Who are you?" Helena demands, backing against the counter. "Get out of my house!"

The woman ignores her, her attention fixed on me. "The girl carries something. I can smell it from across the village. Old magic. Forbidden magic."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whisper.

"You will." The woman's lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Midnight comes, child. And with it, your reckoning."

She vanishes—simply dissolves into shadow—leaving only the scent of burnt sage.

I stand frozen. The old clock above the door ticks loudly. It's still 11:59. Just one more minute before my birthday officially begins.

"You think I wanted any of this?" I whisper. "You think I asked to be born into your bitterness and sorrowful life?"

Helena slams the pot down. "Don't talk back to me, girl!"

The clock clicks. It's officially 12:00am.

Then everything stops.

I could hear the sound of boiling water and how it stopped, the flickering candle flame, even Helena's raised hand. It was frozen midair. My breath catches. The air feels heavy.

I look around. "What's happening?" I asked no one, looking around sharply.

There was no answer, even outside it was cold and dead silent, even the movement of cars stopped.

Then I lift my hands to hit my aunt and suddenly pain shoots through my back.

It was hot, sharp, and endless. I scream, falling to my knees, something burns under my skin, like a fire carving symbols into me. I twist, trying to reach it, but it's useless. The pain grows until I can't breathe.

A black light bursts from my spine, brightening through the room. The ground shakes. The walls crack. Dishes on the basement fall and shatter, and everything frozen in midair before hitting the floor.

My scream echoes through the silence, deep and otherworldly.

But there's another sound beneath it—a laugh. Low, dark, ancient. It's coming from inside my own head.

"Finally," the voice purrs. "After seventeen years of waiting. You've opened the door, little vessel."

"Who are you?" I gasp through the pain.

"Your salvation. Your destruction. Does it matter? We are bound now, you and I."

Then darkness engulfed me.

Miles away, deep within the dark woods, an ancient academy gloomed under the moonlight.

Four hot figures stand on a marble balcony.

The tallest one, with ash-blond hair, jerks his head up. His eyes flash gold.

"Did you feel that?" he mutters.

The second, sharp-jawed with messy black curls, smirks. "Hard not to. The energy nearly broke the seal."

"This is bad," the blond one—Kieran —says, his jaw clenched. "If she's awakened a Black Sigil, we're not just dealing with raw power. We're dealing with something that was buried for a reason."

A third boy, quiet with silver eyes, clenches his fists. "It came from the East. I think she has awakened."

The fourth one, who's been leaning lazily against the railing, straightens. His eyes, deep crimson and it glow faintly. "Not just she but something powerful."

Kieran turns sharply to the crimson-eyed boy—Alaric. "You know more than you're saying. What aren't you telling us?"

Alaric's smirk fades. "Only that if the prophecy is true, she's not here to save anyone." He pauses. "She's here to choose which side wins the war."

"What war?" the silver-eyed boy—Zev —demands.

"The one that starts now."

They all share a look. The night wind howls.

"It's begun," the silver-eyed one whispers.

I wake up on the floor, my whole body trembling. The candle is out already. The air smells of smoke. Aunt Helena stands in front of me, shaking.

"Wh-what did you do?" she stammers. Her hand was still raised but trembling.

I helped myself up, breath ragged. "I don't know."

Her eyes widen when she sees my back. I can feel her stare heavily, and horrified.

"What's that on you?" she whispers.

I turn slightly and watch my reflection in the cracked mirror. A dark sigil burns faintly on my shoulder blade and black veins crawling around it like it's alive.

Helena backs away. "You're cursed," she hisses. "You've brought the end to us all!"

"Good," I hear myself say—but the voice isn't entirely mine. It's layered, doubled. "Let it burn."

Helena's face drains of color. "That's not you talking."

"Isn't it?" My lips curl into a smile I didn't choose. Then the presence recedes, and I'm back in control, gasping.

"I didn't mean…"

"Get out!" she screams. "Get out before you destroy this house too!"

Before I can respond, a knock echoes through the door.

It was a loud and solid knock.

Helena freezes. "Who would come here this late?"

I move toward the door. She grabs my wrist. "Don't open it."

I pull away. My heart races. "What if it's…"

Another knock came. This time sharper.

I open it.

At the door post three men stand outside, dressed in white cloaks that glows faintly in the moonlight. Their faces are shadowed by their hoods, but their presence makes the air heavy to breath into.

The one in front steps forward. His voice is calm, but it vibrates with something ancient. "Thalira Moonwhisper?"

My breath hitched. "Yes?"

"It's time," he says simply.

Helena rushes behind me, smirking. "Who are you people? Leave her alone!"

The man ignores her. His eyes are now visible and now glowing faintly blue. "You've awakened. You must come with us."

"And if I refuse?" I ask, crossing my arms despite my trembling hands.

The man tilts his head. "Then the Academy will come to you. And trust me, girl—you don't want that."

"She's not going anywhere, I still have to deal with her!" Helena shrieks.

One of the other cloaked men raises his hand. Helena flies backward, pinned against the wall by invisible force. She struggles, gasping.

"Let her go!" I shout.

"Come willingly, and we will," the leader says coldly.

"I'm not going anywhere with strangers," I say, stepping back.

"You don't have a choice, or do you love being abused," he replies, his voice low. "The mark has chosen you. The Academy awaits."

"I don't understand, what acad…"

Before I can finish, he raises his hand. The air around me bends. Helena screams my name, but the world tilts.

I feel my body lift off the ground, weightless, pulled into a swirl of light and wind. The house fades, my aunt's voice fading into silence.

I reach out, but everything dissolves.

The wind hits my face as I land hard on a cold stone. My knees scrape the floor. I open my eyes and gasp.

I'm standing in a vast courtyard surrounded by tall towers and glowing lanterns floating midair. The night sky is glowing with streaks of magic green, blue, and silver.

The three men stand before me. Behind them, shadows like figures in uniforms were watching from a distance.

"Where am I?" I whisper.

"The Celestial Academy." one of them answers.

The blond one from earlier steps out from the shadows. The same golden eyes that glowed in the forest now looking at me. He smirks slightly.

"So you're the one who caused that tremor." His voice is low, smooth, but sharp.

I swallow hard. "I didn't mean to."

"Of course you didn't," he says, walking closer. "Power like that doesn't ask for permission."

Another boy, the one with black curls, folds his arms. "She looks… ordinary. Are you sure this is her?"

The man in white nods. "The sigil doesn't lie."

The crimson-eyed boy circles me slowly, his gaze intense. "If that's true, she's more dangerous than she looks."

I take a step back. "Dangerous?"

The blond one stops right in front of me. He leans closer, his breath brushing my ear.

"Welcome to your new life, Thalira Moonwhisper. You just wake the world's most ancient curse.”

My heart pounds. "What does that mean? What curse?"

He straightens, his eyes glinting like sunlight.

"It means…" he says softly. "you've doomed us all."

"No." The crimson-eyed boy—Alaric —steps forward, his expression dark. "It means she gets to choose who survives." He locks eyes with me. "And I intend to make sure she chooses correctly."

Kieran's hand shoots to the hilt of a blade at his side. "Stay away from her, Alaric. We don't know what she's carrying yet."

"Oh, I know exactly what she's carrying." Alaric's smile is cold. "The question is—does she?"

The voice in my head stirs again, amused. "This is going to be fun."

I stumble backward, my vision blurring. "What have I become?" I whispered.