Angry

Although I believed what Leon said to be true—his trembling voice and glistening eyes couldn’t be faked—I did not believe in any curse at all. Witches, after all, had long since become extinct among wolves; the last recorded sighting was a century ago, a story told only in old clan tales. The disappearance of magic meant that everything connected with it had become a fragile bubble, easily popped by logic! Perhaps the curse was only a psychological suggestion, a fear passed down to make him obey the dynasty’s demands. I hugged my arms tighter, the night wind sending a shiver down my spine. “What are you trying to say?” Leon looked at me curiously, leaning forward slightly, his head tilted as if trying to read my thoughts. “It seems that you don’t believe what I just said, do you?” His tone softened, not accusatory, just quiet observation. “No, I was just thinking.” I avoided his gaze for a moment, staring at the moonlit garden below, then met his eyes again. “Maybe it’s just some woman