The Midnight Oath

Chapter 1: The Bookstore by the Sea

The wind howled as it swept in from the sea, curling its way around the narrow cobbled

streets of the coastal town. The sky above was a thick blanket of iron-gray clouds, heavy

with the promise of rain. On the farthest edge of town, where the cliffside met the restless

waves below, stood a small, dilapidated building-a bookstore.

**Blackwood Books** was not like the quaint shops that dotted the center of town, with

welcoming lights and cheerful storefronts. No, Blackwood Books was dark and foreboding,

its wooden sign creaking in the wind, half-covered by climbing vines that seemed to choke

the life out of the place. The windows were dim, the glass fogged with age, and inside, the

air smelled of dust, ink, and something older-something ancient.

Inside, **Elara Blackwood** moved silently between the tall shelves, her long black dress

brushing the floor with each step. She had a practiced grace, as though she had spent a

lifetime moving through these tight spaces, avoiding the heavy, leather-bound volumes that

crowded the narrow aisles. Her dark hair fell like a curtain down her back, loose and wild,

much like the sea that crashed against the cliffs outside. Her pale skin stood in stark contrast

to the shadows of the shop, her haunting green eyes scanning the shelves with a quiet

intensity.

The town rarely saw her. She had come here years ago, after fleeing the family estate, and

since then had kept to herself. The few who ventured into her bookstore often left quickly,

unnerved by the oppressive atmosphere that seemed to cling to the walls. Rumors spread

about her, whispers that she was strange, cursed even, much like her family had always

been. But Elara cared little for gossip. She had her books, her solitude, and the constant

hum of the ocean-her only companion.

Today was no different. The storm outside was growing stronger, the waves crashing against

the rocks with greater ferocity, as if nature itself mirrored the storm that had long since taken

root in her soul. As she placed a rare volume on alchemy back on the shelf, she paused, her

fingers lingering over the cracked leather spine. A cold shiver ran down her back-a familiar

sensation, one she had grown used to over the years.

Her mother had always spoken of the curse. "The Blackwoods are doomed," she would say,

her voice trembling with madness. "We are cursed, Elara. Everything we love, everything we

touch, will be destroyed." Elara had tried to forget those words, to dismiss them as the

ravings of a woman driven mad by grief. But as the years went on, she had begun to wonder

if perhaps there was truth in them. Her father had vanished without a trace, her mother's

mind had unraveled, and now here she was, alone, in a town that felt as cursed as she did.

The bell above the door jingled, startling her from her thoughts. She turned slowly, her heart