The Blackwood Curse

Chapter 23

Sarah POV

I couldn't breathe.

The air around me felt thick, suffocating, as though the very walls of the mansion had closed in tighter after what I had just witnessed. My legs moved on their own, carrying me through the halls with a single, desperate thought in my mind: I need to leave. I had to leave this place—this mansion, this family, this curse. There was no longer any room for doubt. No matter what I thought I knew before, no matter what I thought I could handle, what I had seen in that chamber was far worse than I could ever have imagined.

The door. I just had to reach the door. I couldn’t think about anything else. My hands were trembling, my breath shallow and quick, and my mind was a whirl of panic, guilt, and horror. How had I not seen it sooner? How had I been so blind? The Blackwood family… they weren’t just cursed—they were complicit in something dark. Something twisted.

I hadn’t just learned about the curse tonight. No, I had learned something far worse. My stomach churned with the images of what I had witnessed—the ritualistic bloodletting, the words that echoed like ancient incantations, the look in their eyes as they participated. As if it were a normal part of their lives, something they had done for years. The knowledge sank in like a poison, creeping into every corner of my being. They would never let me go. Not now that I knew.

I can’t stay here.

I stumbled forward, my feet barely touching the ground as I moved, driven by pure instinct, my pulse thundering in my ears. The mansion’s dark, labyrinthine hallways stretched endlessly before me, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t stopping. I had to get to the front door. I had to get away. I couldn’t stay here another minute.

As I passed through the grand hallway, my fingers brushed against the cool surface of the walls, the dark wood of the banister, anything to steady myself, but nothing felt real anymore. Not this house. Not these people. Not even me.

My heart was racing, the memories of the ritual still flashing in my mind in quick, jagged images—Victor’s eyes, dark and knowing; Eleanor’s unshakable composure; Eren’s cold detachment. And Axel. Axel—who had always seemed so kind, so earnest in his desire to protect me, now standing there, a willing participant in that madness. My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms as I struggled to suppress the rising wave of nausea. My stomach churned with the weight of the truth.

I couldn’t ever look at him the same way again.

I had trusted him. I had trusted all of them. And they had betrayed me. They hadn’t just kept the truth from me. No, they had kept me in the dark about everything.

The heavy wooden door at the end of the hall beckoned to me, a promise of escape, of freedom. The night outside felt so close, so tangible that I could almost taste it. My lungs burned with the need for fresh air, something clean, something that wasn’t laced with the dark energy of this cursed house.

I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to stay.

The mansion had always been an unsettling place. Its towering ceilings, its cold marble floors, the grand staircases that spiraled upward into shadowed corners—nothing about it had ever felt like home. But now? Now it felt like a prison, and I was its unwilling captive. The walls themselves seemed to close in on me, suffocating, stifling. The Blackwoods’ history was no longer something distant and academic to study. It was a nightmare made flesh, and I was caught in its grip.

I stepped forward, quickening my pace. I could see the door now, the heavy iron lock just a few steps away. The air outside had to be cooler, fresher, even in the dead of night. I needed to feel it on my skin. I needed to breathe it in. But as I moved toward the door, my heart skipped a beat.

Footsteps.

The sound echoed down the corridor, heavy and deliberate. They were coming back. They—they—were returning. Axel, Eren, Victor, Eleanor—whoever it was, they were close. I didn’t know who would be first to come through the door, but I knew I couldn’t be here when they did.

I pressed myself against the stone wall, my breath catching in my throat, my pulse pounding in my ears. Panic surged, and I could feel it rising in my chest, threatening to choke me. Think. Think. Think!

I had no choice. There was no time to wait for the right moment. The right words. No time for anything except getting out of here.

My hand reached for the door handle, fingers shaking as they wrapped around the cold metal. I twisted it—slowly, carefully—and the door creaked open, the sound too loud in the stillness of the house. My heart lurched in my chest. I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting someone to be standing there, watching me, ready to stop me.

But there was nothing.

Only the bitter night air, fresh and cold as it greeted me. My eyes watered as I stepped out into the garden, the path leading away from the mansion, the silhouette of the house looming behind me like a dark specter. The world felt so much larger now, so much more real, as though the mansion had never existed, as though it were just a bad dream that I could leave behind.

I should’ve felt relief. I should’ve felt free.

But I didn’t.

I felt numb.

The cold air hit my face like a slap, and I drew in a shaky breath, filling my lungs with something that didn’t taste like blood or ashes. The garden stretched before me, dark and quiet, bathed in the pale light of the moon. The stone paths led in all directions, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was that I had to get as far away from the mansion as possible, away from the Blackwoods and the darkness that tainted everything they touched.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

The mansion loomed behind me, its windows like watching eyes, its walls closing in on itself, trapping whatever secrets remained inside. And me? I was gone.

Gone from their world. Gone from their lies.

Gone.

But as I walked into the night, my thoughts raced. How could I have missed it all? How could I have believed them? Axel. Eren. Victor. Eleanor. They had all known. They had all been part of something so twisted, so wrong—and I had been too naive, too trusting, to see it.

But it didn’t matter now. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t undo it. The only thing I could do was run.

And run I did.