Chapter 33: The Cursed
His father’s fist connected with his jaw. Blood sprayed across marble floors. His mother stood frozen, one hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face but feet rooted to the ground.
“Weak!” Another blow. “Pathetic!” The voice thundered through the dining hall.
Cel tried to speak, to beg, but his father’s hands were already at his back, nails digging into divine flesh, tearing away the Moon Goddess’s mark—
His eyes snapped open.
Ash-covered stone ceiling. Broken walls. The hollow silence of the Ashlands pressing in from all sides.
His chest heaved, breath coming in short gasps. The nightmare clung to him like oil, coating his thoughts with remembered pain.
“You’re awake.”
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