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★★★
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE:
LATE NIGHTS
★★★
It had been six days since she took the curse, and everyday Aurora found she felt just nothing.
It was indescribable. Every day seemed to blur and the days just turned into nights quicker than she could wrap her head around. Six days. Six morning and six nights had passed since she eternally doomed herself to be cursed for the rest of her life. The six days had not been easy on her, she experienced the hallucinations of her grandmother, which were still coming and going, but for the most, going. Then following, she started to have trouble sleeping, excessive coldness, and notice how things around her (things like flowers, or even the smallest of insects) would start to shrivel up and die. Although she had that happening sometimes anyways, it seemed now to be more obvious – so obvious she ordered Hestia and the other handmaidens to take any flowers away from the castle and told all she believed herself to becoming allergic to them.
Pierre had been training her on dark magic, and Aurora found it differed from Damien's teaching style. He allowed her more freedom, and didn't treat her like a child in the way that Damien often did – did that mean that Pierre was a better mentor that Damien? Should she have been training with him all along? She always did believe that she was lacking all skills because Damien refused to give her the entire training. She also could admit that she knew Damien was trying to look out for her, and he probably always do so.
Not that it was the most easiest type of magic, she did enjoy the learning of dark magic. Learning how to cause someone's brain to swell and burst in simple seconds, how to turn someone's fingers inside out, and lastly how to
Before this was magic that sometimes she could do but never intentionally. But now, she could do this on command. She could really hurt someone now. More than she had been hurt in the past.
Nonetheless, she was alive, barely but she was alive. She was still here, she would think late at night, and she still wanted to fight this war. As the days went on, she wanted to do so even more, she was ready to fight him. She wanted to. Each day she grew angrier and angrier. She always had a temper though – she was her father's daughter after all.
Tonight she got dressed once the clock hit midnight, wearing a dark red coloured dress that Hestia made her when she first arrived here. It fit her like it was made for her – which technically it was. She tied half her hair back, but still let it hang down just over her ribcage. It had grown longer since she arrived in the island, it took a long time, but she finally felt satisfied enough with her appearance.
