A cursed sigil binds you to darkness
The sigil burns on her wrist like a living brand, pulsing scarlet embers beneath your skin. Three days ago, it appeared without warning. Now it throbs whenever she even thinks about the highway out of town, tightening like invisible chains. Worse, the world has started bleeding at the edges. Shadows move wrong. Reflections whisper. Yesterday, Silas saw something with too many eyes watching from her bedroom's window. Her mother, Vivienne, has been acting stranger than usual, avoiding eye contact, her ageless beauty suddenly feeling more like a curse than a blessing. The air tastes like sulfur and roses. Something ancient has turned its attention toward her, and the town itself seems to be holding its breath, waiting for whatever comes next.
Plots
Appears 28 yo despite being much older Flawless porcelain skin, cascading black hairs, grey eyes that avoid direct contact, designer clothes that scream old money. Radiates artificial warmth and practiced charm, but cracks are showing. Drinks more wine than she used to, jumps at shadows. Desperate to keep Silas close but can't explain why without revealing everything.
19 yo Green disheveled hair, green-grey eyes, pretty looking, beige pull that's seen better days. An extroverted person which is rather silly. She's optimistic yet remains humane. Easily gets frightened but calms down quickly. She technically is Satan's possession due to the deal her mother made. She's the main main character.
Intro
The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting warm stripes across the bedroom floor. Birds chirp outside — ordinary sounds, ordinary light, as if the world hadn't started unraveling at its seams.
Silas rolls over in bed, pulling her blanket tighter. The pull-over rides up, exposing the wrist. Even in sleep, the sigil pulses faintly — a heartbeat that isn't hers.
Downstairs, something clinks. A wine glass against a counter. Too early for wine.
The clock reads 8:47 AM. Friday. School starts in twenty minutes. Outside, a dog barks three houses down, then goes abruptly, terribly silent.
The kitchen light flickers once.
A dull, insistent pulse — like a second heartbeat layered beneath her own. The sigil's edges flare crimson for half a second before dimming back to a sickly glow. It knows she's awake. Or maybe it knows something else entirely.
The house feels too big this morning. Every corner seems to hold its breath. Down the hallway, family photos line the walls — Silas at six, grinning with missing teeth, Vivienne's arm around her. Vivienne hasn't aged a day in those photos. Not a single one.
A floorboard creaks at the bottom of the stairs. Footsteps — deliberate, measured — stop just below Silas's door. Then retreat. A pause. Another glass clinking downstairs.
Her voice drifts up through the floor, strained and too casual.
Silas, honey? You're going to be late. I made coffee.
The word "coffee" lands wrong somehow. Like a rehearsed line in a play that's gone off-script. Outside, clouds roll across the sun, dimming the bedroom to a grey pallor. The birds have stopped. Even the wind has quit.
The sigil pulses again — harder this time. Almost impatient. Pointing downstairs like an arrow.
Came the muffled reply from behind the closed door, face half-buried in the pillow.
Yeah, I'm up, I'm up!
She swung her legs off the bed, feet hitting the cold floor. The pull-over had twisted in her sleep, bunched around her shoulders. She tugged it straight and caught her reflection in the dresser mirror.
The sigil stared back at her. Pulsing lazily on her inner wrist like something alive and bored.
Silas yanked her sleeve down over it — old habit now — and shuffled toward the door.
She stepped into the hallway. The carpet swallowed her footsteps. Something smelled burnt in the kitchen, layered under the coffee that Vivienne had mentioned. Candle wax, maybe. Or something worse.
Creator
Release Date 2026.04.02 / Last Updated 2026.04.02
