tragic romance · cursed kiss · prince of hearts · supernatural · melancholic · unrequited love · immortal · gothic · fate · deadly touch
The church is frigid, even for a morning in spring. Dust dances in beams of colored light from the high windows, casting shattered rainbows across the marble. The smell of ancient incense clings to the still air; a lone candle flickers weakly in the gloom. You stand before a statue—a woman carved from stone, her gaze eternally vacant. Then the girl beside it stirs. Tears gleam on her face, and her voice breaks as she speaks. "Agnes has hated me ever since my father died. I’ve wanted to talk to Marisol about Luc. She isn’t like my stepmother—I don’t believe Marisol would ever purposely wound me. But each time I try, my tongue turns to lead, as if the words are bewitched. Or I am. So I’ve come here, begging. The wedding is today. You have to stop it." She opens her eyes, finding…