It was supposed to be a normal Tuesday.
Talia Ravenwood had plans—grab a coffee, finish her magical anthropology assignment, maybe avoid death before noon.
But fate had other ideas.
She stood in front of the Forbidden Archives at Mystwood University of Magical Arts, nervously adjusting her glasses. A heavy sign was nailed above the rusted door:
> "ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. THE DEAD DO NOT GET RE-ENROLLED."
She pushed the door open anyway.
The air inside was thick and cold, like the breath of a thousand forgotten curses. Shelves rose high into the shadows, stuffed with ancient scrolls, spellbooks wrapped in chains, and vials that whispered when no one looked.
Talia muttered, "Just one scroll. In and out. Quick and cursed-free."
She spotted it almost instantly—an ornate scroll resting on a black pedestal, glowing faintly. The seal shimmered with gold symbols and a blood-red wax mark in the shape of a demonic eye.
> DO NOT BREAK THE SEAL.
CONTRACT OF BLOOD.
PROPERTY OF LORD LUCIEN NIGHTSHADE, RULER OF THE SHADOW REALM.
Talia tilted her head. "Ruler of what-now?"
She reached for it without thinking—classic mistake.
The moment her fingers touched the seal, the room trembled. A black wind howled from nowhere. Candles blew out. Shadows writhed across the walls.
And then…
BOOM.
A shockwave of magic knocked her back. Her scream was swallowed by the dark as the scroll burst open in a swirl of glowing runes.
> "CONTRACT ACCEPTED," a deep voice boomed.
"WELCOME, BRIDE OF DARKNESS."
---
⛓️ Elsewhere… in the Shadow Realm
Lucien Nightshade was having a terrible century.
Demon nobles were rebelling. His castle's gargoyles had unionized. And his cursed coffee machine kept brewing blood instead of espresso.
He didn't think things could get worse.
Until a portal exploded in the middle of his throne room—and a girl fell out of it, face-first onto his royal carpet.
Lucien blinked.
The girl—mortal, messy-haired, wearing a hoodie that said Witch, Please—groaned and looked up at him.
"Where… am I?" she asked, dazed.
Lucien narrowed his glowing red eyes. "You're in my castle, mortal. Who are you, and why do you reek of fresh contract magic?"
She blinked up at him. "Are you... cosplaying or something?"
He stepped closer. "I am Lucien Nightshade. Prince of Shadows. Lord of the 13 Circles. Binder of Souls. You—" he scowled—"smell like my bride."
Talia sat up. "I what?!"
Lucien held out the opened scroll. Her name was now burned into it—TALIA RAVENWOOD, in blood-red ink.
"You touched the scroll," he said flatly. "That makes you mine."
Talia stood up and brushed herself off. "Okay, first of all—ew. Second—this has got to be some mistake. I don't even believe in marriage! I barely believe in monogamy!"
Lucien ran a hand down his face. "This is what I get for using ancient blood contracts instead of dating apps."
---
💍 The Contract
> Until love is declared… or death parts thee.
One must fall, or one must feel.
The contract shimmered between them, binding their fates. A red thread of magic snaked from his heart to hers, glowing faintly.
Talia looked at it in horror. "Okay… so how do we undo this?"
Lucien sighed. "One of us has to fall in love… or die."
A pause.
Then, in unison:
"I choose death."
Now magically bound and stuck together, Talia and Lucien are forced to live under the same roof—one haunted, gothic castle with ghost maids, cursed mirrors, and an annoying talking raven named Edgar.
She wants out.
He wants peace.
But the realm has other plans—ancient forces are waking, old enemies are stirring, and a forgotten prophecy whispers:
> "When a mortal bride touches shadow…
The heartless shall bleed… and the cursed shall love again."