They told me that nothing comes out of the page... but they lied.
My name is Liana.
I grew up in a forgotten wooden house on the edge of the forest, surrounded by books older than the silence of the walls. I wasn't looking for a story. I wrote to breathe, to survive. But I didn't know that the words left unspoken don't die... they transform.
On a night when the moon did not rise, while the wind howled and the windows trembled, I found myself writing symbols I had never learned. And when the last line was completed, a door appeared... not on the paper, but on the wall.
It was not a dream.
An ancient scent filled the room, and the whisper returned, or maybe it never left. It said to me:
"You have been chosen... and you will pay the price."
From that moment, the pages were no longer just ink.
Every line written awakens something asleep.
Every door opened carries a shadow that never closes.
And the curse... is no longer a tale passed down by grandmothers, but a truth pulsing between the lines.
I am Liana, daughter of ink, and guardian of the door that never closes.
This is not a novel you read and then forget.
If you open it... you may not survive.
Think carefully before you turn the page.
Some curses begin with a word.https://www.wattpad.com/story/397254256?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=11Shadow_Write
