Writhing, in his full dragon form, Cassian tried ripping through the chains with his claws and gnawing at the metal to find only resistance. Not even a little crack. The chains just expanding along with his form. He opened his mouth; the fire crackling in his chest, and Cassian roared, sending a tunnel of fire into the nothingness. The fire crashed into a solid barrier that turned his fire bright blue, transforming into ice cold water that splashed across Cassian's hot skin.

Cassian cursed, seething against the sting. It burned the edges of his vision, and he shut his eyes tight, bearing through the pain and the trickle of cold water that threatened him with unconsciousness. He might vomit. He hadn't done that before as a dragon.

"Interesting. A dragon with a curse..." Vincent said, and the darkness dispersed as the dark witch waved his hand as if he was just parting cigarette smoke. Since Cassian fell, Vincent had dawned a chunky cardigan and an ornate teacup. Using his ankle to hook a stool, Vincent pulled it up behind him and took a seat.

There was no surprise in his voice. Vincent held the same dreary, tired expression since Cassian arrived. He leaned over a huge cast iron, ladling out a smoking liquid, and poured it into his tea. "You know, if you need my help, we can't work together if you continue to be dishonest. Honesty is the best policy." He sat back down. "Shall we start over, maybe with a name?"

Steam flowed from Cassian's nostrils as he sighed. The steam turned to tinkling ice crystal when it hit the shield. "Cassian," he admitted. "Lord Cassian Alwyn. Obviously," Cassian huffed and adjusted his position in these chains, and they clanked together, wearing Cassian's patience razor thin. "You have no reason to trust me, and I admit, I began this conversation by lying to you, but I'm sincerely asking for your help..."

Vincent's eyes glanced at the fired keeping the caldron bubbling. No change of color. It was infuriating to be in a room with fire that wasn't on his side. Cassian said, "It isn't easy for a dragon like me to ask for help."

Sitting back, Vincent took another sip of his tea. "We have that in common. Now, I'm intrigued."

"How can I end the Whitlock curse?"

"Oh." Vincent's brows raised, the first twinkle of life in his silver eyes. He sat up a little. "Well, I wasn't expecting that. You said Alwyn. Not Whitlock. A black dragon normally has a horde, a castle, and not a care in the world. Why do you care about the curse of a family that you don't belong to?"

"I fell in love with a Whitlock." Cassian smiled the closest he could in this form. Vincent just sipped on his tea, maybe to hide his face. Cassian went on, "I'm admitting this meaning you no harm, but I know your family was the one that cursed the Whitlocks. I also know you're the only Rook witch with any magic left. I know you stopped talking to your family."

Vincent grimaced. "Our world is full of gossips."

"I'm hoping because of all that, you're the one who will help me."

Taking a breath, Vincent glanced at the caldron. He rolled his wrist and the ladle inside the caldron circled the lips, stirring the tea concoction, sending an aroma of mint and tarragon into the air. From the ether, a different ornate tea pot appeared and slowly filled with more tea. Steam trickled from the spout.

"I know the curse and its origins," Vincent said, watching the teapot fill. "But it'll only disappoint you. It's a long and sort of pointless story to tell."

"I have time. My flight for New Zealand is this evening."

Vincent sighed. "The only way to explain the curse is to know how it started." He waited for Cassian's approval and grabbed the full teapot. When Cassian nodded for him to go on, Vincent sighed again. "It was the turn of the century and my family, the Rook family, was well established in society and came from old money..."

Tipping over the teapot, only billows of purplish and greenish clouds came out with a slightly sweet, minty smell. From the clouds, silhouettes of people appeared, and one stood out, taller and with broad shoulders. He opened his arms and sparks flew out.

Vincent said, "We're from old magic too. Before there was the Winslow Apothecary, the Rook family was in control of mass potion production..." From the smoke, a factory appeared and more little sparks flew from the smokestacks.

With a smirk, Vincent leaned forward as if lost in the smoke. "You wouldn't guess that now, though." He said that more so to himself.

"Actually," Cassian corrected himself. "Maybe I would like to rush you."

Vincent chuckled and waved his hands, changing the smoke again. "Once upon a time, the Rook family was petty and emotionally fragile." The smoke split in two. There were two houses equal in size and height. "They took insult to a new family that moved across the street. The Whitlock family smelled like new money and threw lavish parties, loved each other, and weren't afraid to flaunt all their happiness and success..."

"My family handed down this story to me," Vincent clarified. "The rest I sort of had to piece together. All the little parts my family weren't forthcoming to share. Anyway," Vince said, annoyed with himself. "Well, the Rook family fell upon hard times once the Great Depression hit just like anyone else and... at the time, the Whitlock family bestowed mine a great kindness."

Vincent's laugh surprised Cassian, who suddenly had to wonder what a small, isolated shop did to someone's mental health. Vince exclaimed, "Can't you imagine! A bunch of busybody mortals offering an old magic family help? You just don't see it!" Giggling to himself, Vincent sat back down. "They offered the help and my family accepted it..." the two families spilled out of their smokey houses, coming together to hug and shake hands. "However, appearances still needed to be maintained. No one knew about the loan."

"When did it go wrong?"

All the amusement drained from Vincent's face. "The once patriarch of the Whitlock family fell in love with my great-great grandmother." From the two families, a man and woman emerged, holding hands, turned into dancing around the dark room and dancing led to kissing. Cassian understood that well.

Vincent said, "I'll make a long sordid story short. She died suddenly, tragically, in an odd accident. She was walking the street with her Whitlock boyfriend..." And in the mist, the young couple was a walking hand in hand, until the man pointed and let her go. While his back turned, she was crushed underneath a massive rock. "And a gargoyle cracked off the building and crushed her. Downed in her prime."

That sounded familiar.

When the small man of smoke looked at her, he dropped to his knees.

"Because it was so odd and random, my family raised many, many questions.The Rook family also claimed that the Whitlock patriarch did nothing to save her. They claimed it was so strange, he could have even been behind. She wouldn't have been on that street if they weren't together. They said he was drunk and abusing their potions and if he was paying attention, he could have saved her. After being thrown accusations of murder and misadventure, the Whitlock family cut mine off."

Vincent shrugged again and raised his hands. "Which in turn sent us to the poorhouse and with the public shame of failure and bankruptcy, it angered my family. I will also say a grieving family might make rash decisions." The houses reappeared and while the Rook home crumbled, the Whitlock house doubled in size. "Meanwhile, the Whitlocks forgot all about us and that patriarch ended up marrying another girl. This only heightened my family's anger, and they sought revenge."

"With the curse?" Cassian guessed.

"The Whitlock curse..." Vincent said and as he spoke, slowly the smoke people evaporated. For every person added, maybe two or three disappeared. "Whenever the Whitlock family reached a place of pride and happiness, they would lose a member of their family. Blood related or not, love just had to be there and that person would be taken away from them, so they would not have that person to celebrate their happiness."

Deep inside the clouds, thunder rumbled. Vincent said, "The curse was meant to bring misery."

Cassian didn't know what to say. He just couldn't get Luke's tearful face out of his head, the despair seeping through his body like a deadly virus.

"I'm not proud of it," Vincent explained. "Obviously. This curse essentially turned my family into a bunch of murderers. Every time a Whitlock passed..." Vincent shook his head, staring off again. "We would feel it in our house. Every tragedy changed our magic, twisting it into something dark and ugly, so even when we tried to get back to the good graces of society, we were barred. Dark witches aren't really welcomed anywhere, and we were too proud to join their darker society. This curse, this decision isolated us."

The smoke cleared, leaving them both in darkness. "This did not breed a happy home. My ancestors attempted to make lots of offspring, thinking that was the way to beat the Whitlock family, but... it just created more people to disappoint. This magic only festers more anger and resentment, creating a viscious cycle. My whole family is estranged now. I don't know where any of them are..."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh," Vincent sighed and waved his hand. "Don't be sorry about it. My family is terrible. For all I know, they sent you to me because I'm the only one left."

"So, it really was a curse to bring misfortune."

"It did and it would, but the family always found a way to be happy again. I don't know how they handled all the grief. I wouldn't be able to stand it."

Cassian couldn't say the Whitlock family could hardly stand it, either. Instead, Cassian asked, "Now that I know the history, does that mean you can tell me how to end the curse?"

"Well, that's the funny thing about this story..." Hesitantly, Vincent reached up into the darkness. "Promise not to be angry."

"What?" Cassian asked, already ticked off.

"Promise to shift into your human form and be reasonable."

A deep growl rumbled from Cassian's chest. He didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep, but this witch wasn't giving him much of an option. Closing his eyes, Cassian took a deep, steadying breath and let his magic go and he shrunk back down into a man. The surrounding chains slacked, helping Cassian back onto his feet.

Once he opened his eyes again, the lights were back on, and Cassian found himself in a small workshop. Dried ingredients hung from the ceiling, unlabeled jars filled the wonky shelves, and there was a black cat sleeping on top of a bookshelf. A crow perched in the corner. There was also more than one caldron. The side wall was only fireplaces, one shaped like a moon, a star in the middle, and then a moon at the end.

A table had also appeared where Vincent was now seated. Hands curled around his cup, Vincent stared up at Cassian. "Lord Alwyn, I meant it when I said this story was pointless. The curse is already broken..." he said the words, but Cassian wasn't processing it. They just stared at each other.

Shrinking from the awkwardness, Vincent smiled slightly and shrugged. "Which means you can't break a curse that's already broken..." More silent, more staring. Vincent smiled strangely. "Congratulations?"

If someone said the sky was collapsing, Cassian would be more obliged to believe them than whatever Vincent just said. His memories flashing through him, Cassian tried to fit this new piece into the puzzle and it wouldn't, couldn't, fit anywhere. Luke, Cassian, and so many other couldn't be wrong for so long. Iris died believing in this curse.

"I—" Cassian shook his head, the information soaking into Cassian like an unremovable stain. "My apologies." Cassian raised his hands, doing his best to keep his promise, but there was too much emotion bursting within and he didn't know where to put it. "I don't understand. No offense, this is not me calling you a liar or suggesting that you would lie to me about this, but there's no way the curse is broken."

Vincent made a face and his pity twisted the emotional knife in Cassian's stomach. Cassian shook his head, his hand curling into a fist. "Iris Whitlock, she—" Cassian tapped at the table. He needed to get through to this witch. "She died this year." This all felt so ridiculous. Cassian couldn't believe he had to explain this. "She died suddenly and out of the blue—" He shouldn't be raising his voice, but he couldn't stop it. "And you're trying to tell me the curse is suddenly broken."

"Oh," Vincent said, shrinking as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I'm sorry to hear that, but if you don't mind me asking um..." He flinched at his own words. "How old was she when she passed?"

Cassian's jaw tightened. His fury packed enough heat that his scales were boiling to the surface. "She was in her 80s."

"And how did she die?"

"A complication during surgery."

Vincent nodded. His voice was unbearably soft. "20 years ago, Luke Whitlock—I guess I should say uh, Luke Aster underwent heart surgery..." Cassian closed his eyes and turned away. It was hard enough thinking about Luke, let alone having to hear someone else talk about him, like they knew Luke better. Vincent told Cassian, "He died during surgery."

Cassian let out a breath. This was more painful than the chains. Vincent went on, "Uh, when a Whitlock dies, my family gains power and I felt it. I felt Luke dying—"

"Please, skip ahead."

"It was terrible, and I knew what happened. I knew it was happening to him. I could feel it, but then that magic was almost immediately taken away. Luke came back to life and, therefore, broke the curse."

Still, it was too good to be true, and Cassian knew Luke would feel the same way.

"Lord Alwyn," Vincent said, and Cassian finally turned back around. There was a whisper of a smile on his face. It was a sincerity Cassian wasn't entirely sure he deserved. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound cold, but sometimes, people in their 80s die. Sometimes, people die because of complications during surgery."

With nothing to say, Cassian stayed quiet for a long time. He reached for a chair, collapsing into it. He held his face in his hands. This was right. It wasn't fair. Iris Whitlock didn't deserve to go out so quietly. Only magic, only the greatest and most powerful curse, should have taken her away... but it was a quiet, gentle loss.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Vincent whispered.

Cassian shook his head. "But for the last year!" Cassian's voice raised as it seemed like he wasn't getting through to this man. "All these things keep happening and we keep running into these situations where either Luke or I nearly get ourselves killed. What about that? How is that not the curse?"

Vincent shrugged. "Not everything that happens to us is a curse. Sometimes, it's just life that happens. Not curses." Vincent said it and Cassian was thrown back to fighting Luke when they first met, the fire he almost started, Ernest stabbing him in the gut and coming back to nearly kill Luke. Cassian remembered all the pain. He could still feel his brother's teeth ripping through his throat.

Just life. Cassian's crazy, messed up, and adventurous life. No curses involved. Had he avoided living for so long? Had he forgotten what it was like?

"I don't know what else to tell you, Lord Alwyn." Vincent got up and poured himself some more tea. "You were on an adventurous path and that comes with dangers."

Cassian shook his head. "Luke will never believe there's no curse anymore."

"It must be difficult for humans to be under curses," Vincent said. "They can't really tell if the magic is still there or not..." Looking around, Vincent approached a small tin box sitting on a shelf. He pulled out an oval locket, flipping it open. For now, it was empty. He brought the necklace to the fire, closing the trinket around the flame.

"Here." Vincent placed the necklace in Cassian's hand. Upon closer examination, it was sterling silver with flowers pressed around the side. A red gem sat in the center, and if Cassian peered closer, he could see the wave of the fire inside. "Take this. It's just like my fire upstairs. It'll change colors if the person wearing it is being lied to. Have Luke wear it and tell him what's happened to the curse. He'll know you're not lying to him."

"Are you sure?" Cassian held it tight. "What about you?"

Vincent smiled once again, holding his tea in-between his hands. His shoulders did a little gleeful shake as he said, "Don't worry about me. This means my curse is broken too."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Update 2/5. So the curse is already broken??? LOL. 

Y'all know I plan out my books to the DETAIL and it's been so hard to keep this secret the entire time, but now you all know (and Cassian knows) that no magic was involved in Iris's death. All the drama and near death experiences were just consequences of being on an adventure! So, to their credit, it's also the reason Luke and Cass have lived. No curses involved :)

Are you surprised? Did any of you guess right??? Do you think Luke is going to believe Cassian if they see each other again? Lol. Let me know your thoughts and feelings!