9. Dorian

Chapter 9

Dorian

The ancient tome lies open before me, its pages brittle and yellow, like the bones of long-dead secrets. The library around me is a tomb of silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the mournful howl of wind outside. Snow falls in thick flurries, blanketing the estate in deceptive calmness, as if trying to bury the horrors that lurk within these walls.

I’ve been here for hours, days, or maybe even weeks. Time loses meaning when you’re racing against your own sanity and each tick of the clock brings you closer to oblivion. My fingers, usually steady, tremble as I turn the page. Another symptom of the curse’s progression, or just the weight of impending madness? It’s getting harder to tell where I end and the curse begins.

I scan the faded text, searching desperately for any mention of a curse like mine. The words blur and twist, becoming a jumble of archaic language and obscure references that mock my efforts. I blink, trying to focus, but the shadows at the edges of my vision writhe and dance, a constant reminder of the darkness growing within me, threatening to consume all that I am.

The curse of Dorian Gray.

My inheritance. My burden. My… damnation?

The price of eternal youth and beauty is paid by madness and corruption. I can’t help but think of my infamous ancestor, the original Dorian Gray, who sold his soul for immortality. His portrait bore the weight of his sins while he remained forever young, but when the painting was destroyed, the curse didn’t die with him.

It lived on in his descendants—in me .

The ones he never knew existed. The ones left to bear the weight of his sins.

Without the painting to absorb the darkness, it settles into our souls, becoming a cancer of the spirit, and drives us slowly, inexorably insane. For me, with my shadow shifter abilities inherited from my mother, the curse is even more volatile. The shadows respond to my emotions, making every moment a battle for control.

My eyes drift to the family portrait on the wall, a gallery of beautiful faces hiding ugly truths. I can almost hear my great-grandfather Edmund’s screams echoing from the attic where he spent his final years. Aunt Vivian’s absent smile reminds me of the day she vanished, leaving behind only shattered mirrors and unanswered questions. Each face tells a story of our curse, a legacy of madness written in shadows and blood.

Then there’s me, Dorian Gray II, possibly the last of my line. The weight of their collective suffering presses down on me, a constant reminder of what awaits if I fail. Their eyes seem to follow me, accusing, pleading, and warning.

A movement in the corner of my eye startles me. For a moment, I see a shadowy figure reaching for me with gnarled hands, its face a twisted mockery of my own. I blink, and it’s gone, leaving only the lingering scent of decay. These hallucinations are becoming more frequent. I rub my eyes, willing the encroaching madness to recede, knowing it’s a futile gesture.

“Find anything useful?”

The familiar drawl of my uncle’s voice makes me flinch. I don’t look up, partly because I’m afraid of what I might see if I do. The scents of martinis and potato chips waft into the room before Everett does, a jarring note of normalcy in this mausoleum of madness.

“Nothing,” I croak, my voice raw from hours of muttering incantations and cursing at dead ends. I rub my eyes, trying to focus on the words swimming before me. “Just more useless gibberish about eternal youth and the price of vanity. Nothing we don’t already know.”

He sighs dramatically, flopping into an armchair and spilling some of his drink. “You know, kiddo, there might not be a cure. The painting was our salvation, and without it… well, we’re pretty much screwed—screwed with a capital S, and probably some fancy calligraphy to boot.”

I can’t help but smile despite the gravity of our situation. Uncle Everett has always had this effect on me, his irreverent humor a balm to the darkness that threatens to consume us both. I remember summers spent here as a child, with Everett teaching me to fence with tree branches and recounting outrageous family stories that walked the line between truth and tall tale. Those memories are tainted now, though, overshadowed by the knowledge of what’s to come.

As I meet his gaze, I see the weariness behind the mirth, the desperation lurking in the depths of his eyes. Everett has been fighting this curse longer than anyone. He’s watched family members succumb one by one, their minds shattered and souls corrupted. Now, he’s all I have left. The thought sobers me, a cold reminder of what’s at stake.

I turn back to the book, determined to find something, anything, that might save us both. “There has to be a way,” I mutter more to myself than to Everett. “I refuse to believe we’re destined to go mad and become monsters.”

“Monsters?” Everett laughs, but it’s hollow, echoing through the room like a death knell. “Hate to break it to you, but we’re already there. Ever wonder why I live alone on this massive estate and why our family tree looks more like a withered branch? We Gray men don’t exactly make great company in the long run.” He pauses, his expression softening into something almost pitying. “You know, I always thought immortality would involve more bikini-clad women and fewer dusty books. Talk about false advertising.”

The shadows around me pulse, like hungry beasts responding to the anger and fear inside me. I feel them trying to break free. My breath comes in short gasps as I wrestle them back, every fiber of my being straining against the darkness threatening to consume me. It’s like trying to hold back an ocean with my bare hands.

Control. I must maintain control. My shadow shifter abilities, amplified by the curse, are a constant threat. One slip, one moment of weakness, and I could lose myself to the darkness forever.

“I won’t accept it,” I say, standing. My words come out clipped. “And I won’t let it take me like it took my father.”

Everett’s face softens, the humor in his eyes replaced by a pain so raw it’s almost tangible. My father, his brother, succumbed to the curse when I was just a child. I still remember his descent into madness and the way the curse consumed him in the end, leaving nothing but an empty shell where a brilliant man once stood.

“Your old man fought it hard,” Everett says quietly, his usual joking tone absent. “But the curse… it’s relentless, and with your mom’s shadow shifter blood in the mix, well, it’s a whole new ballgame—for you, that is.”

I turn away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze and the truth in his words.

My mother, Evangeline, was a shadow shifter who thought she could tame a Gray. She believed love could conquer even the darkest curse. Her own powers accelerated the curse’s effects, leading to her early, tragic demise. Now, it’s just Everett and me—the last of the Grays, standing on the precipice of oblivion.

My gaze falls on a small, ornate box on a nearby table. Inside is a fragment of the original painting—all that remains of our family’s salvation. It pulses with a malevolent energy, a siren song of power and madness.

A dangerous and desperate idea forms, a spark of hope in the encroaching darkness.

“What if,” I say slowly, my tone laced with a power I can’t control, “we could recreate the painting? Not the whole thing, but enough to… contain the curse?”

Everett nearly chokes on his martini, coughing and sputtering. “Recreate the—Dorian, have you lost your marbles already? That’s impossible! And coming from a guy who’s seen the impossible on a weekly basis, that’s saying something.”

“But not the magic that sustained it,” I counter, grasping at straws, looking for anything that could save us. I lean in, my voice taking on a charismatic edge that borders on hypnotic. “Uncle, you’ve always said I have a knack for the impossible. Let me prove it one more time. Let me save us both.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Everett jumps up, spilling chips everywhere, his eyes wide with a fear I’ve never seen before. “Pump the brakes, kid. Your powers are wonky enough as it is. Messing with the curse could turn you into a human light switch—on, off, shadow, not shadow. Poof! No more Dorian, just a puddle of goo and regret on the floor.”

I want to argue, but a sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, stealing the words from my lips. The room spins, and shadows lengthen and twist into grotesque shapes. Faces form in the darkness, screaming silently, reaching for me with grasping hands. I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles white, willing the hallucination to pass, but it doesn’t.

It grows stronger, more vivid. Suddenly, the shadows in the room begin to writhe and twist, responding to my loss of control. Books fly off shelves, their pages fluttering like the wings of trapped birds. The fire in the hearth flares dangerously high, casting monstrous shadows on the walls. The very air seems to darken, thick with the taste of ash and decay.

“Dorian!” Everett shouts, his voice barely audible over the chaos. “Get a grip! Don’t let it take you!”

I can’t.

The darkness is overwhelming and consuming, a tidal wave of madness threatening to drown me. In my mind’s eye, I see Frankie, her face contorted in fear as she backs away from me. Her eyes, once filled with love and trust, now show only terror and revulsion. The image sends a jolt of pain through my heart, momentarily breaking through the haze of the curse.

With a monumental effort, I force the shadows back, collapsing to my knees as the room returns to normal. Everett rushes to my side, his face pale with shock as he helps me up.

“I… I’m sorry,” I rasp, my body trembling from the horror of what almost happened. “I couldn’t… I almost… Oh God, Everett, I almost lost control completely.”

“You shifted again,” he accuses.

I had to. I don’t say that. He knows if I shifted, it was for a good reason—to keep Francesca alive.

Everett helps me to a chair, his usual playful demeanor replaced by grave concern. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it? The curse, your powers… They are becoming harder to control. You’re slipping away, aren’t you?”

I nod, unable to meet his eyes, shame and fear warring within me. The fear of what I might become and what I might do to those I care about settles over me like a suffocating blanket. “If I can’t find a solution soon, Everett, I could hurt someone. I could hurt Frankie. I could become the very monster I’ve been fighting against.”

The thought sends a fresh wave of determination through me, tinged with desperation. I can’t let that happen. I won’t. I’ll find a way to break this curse or die trying—and therein lies the crux of my dilemma, the terrible truth I’ve been avoiding.

“You see?” Everett says softly, genuine fear creeping into his voice. “It’s already progressing faster than we anticipated. Your shadow shifter heritage… It’s like nitro to this curse’s glycerin. One wrong move and boom—no more Dorian, no more anything. I… I can’t lose you too. Not like this. Not to this goddamn curse.”

I straighten and push down the fear threatening to overwhelm me, drawing on a well of strength I didn’t know I possessed. “All the more reason to find a solution fast, before it’s too late for both of us.”

Everett sighs, suddenly looking every bit his true age, the weight of centuries pressing down on his shoulders. “Alright, alright, but be careful, Dorian. The path you’re walking is more treacherous than a tightrope over a shark tank with lasers, and the sharks have lasers too and they are hungry and angry. You get the picture.”

Despite everything, I feel a smile tugging at my lips, a spark of the old Dorian breaking through the darkness. “I know, Uncle. Thank you for everything. Thank you for not leaving me to face this alone and being the one constant in this sea of madness.”

“Hey, what’s family for if not to face eternal damnation together, right?” He grins, but I can see the concern in his eyes, the love that’s kept him by my side through it all. “Now, let’s crack open some more dusty books and see if we can’t find a way to outsmart this pesky curse. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a Curse Breaking for Dummies hidden away somewhere.”

As we turn back to our research, I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. For a moment, I swear I see a flicker of madness in my eyes, a darkness that wasn’t there before. My reflection grins back at me, a twisted, malevolent thing that makes my blood run cold. I look away quickly, but the image lingers in my mind, a portent of what’s to come if I fail.

Time is running out. For my sake, and for everyone I care about, I have to find an answer. Unbidden, Francesca’s face flashes in my mind, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

My little owl.

Francesca is the one bright spot in this cursed existence. She is one person who makes me feel… human, normal, and alive. I remember the softness of her lips, the spark of electricity when we touched, and the way she looked at me like I was something precious, something worth saving, but I also remember the fear in her eyes when she saw the darkness within me. She stepped back, wary and uncertain, as if she could sense the monster lurking beneath my skin.

The thought sends a fresh wave of pain through me, sharper than any physical wound. This is why I have to find a cure—not just for me, but for her and the chance, however slim, that we might have a future together.

Even as I think it, doubt gnaws at me, a cancer of the soul. Am I being selfish? Would Francesca be better off if I just disappeared, sparing her the danger of my curse and the volatile nature of my powers? Would she mourn me, or would she breathe a sigh of relief, finally free from the darkness that clings to me like a second skin?

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Everett’s voice cuts through my reverie, sharp and knowing. I look up to see him watching me, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “That shadow shifter girl. Frankie. The one who has you tied up in knots.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, afraid of what might come out if I open my mouth.

Everett sighs, swirling his martini thoughtfully. “You know, in all my years, I’ve never seen a Gray look at someone the way you look at her. It’s like she’s your own personal sun or something. It’s disgustingly sweet, really. Makes me want to vomit rainbows and kittens.”

Despite everything, I feel a smile tugging at my lips and warmth spreading through my chest at the thought of her. “She’s… special. Francesca’s faced her own demons and came out stronger. Maybe, with her by my side, I could do the same. Maybe she’s the key to breaking this curse once and for all.”

“Special enough to fight this curse for?” Everett asks, his tone gentle but probing, laden with centuries of pain and loss.

I meet his gaze, feeling a surge of determination and love so fierce, it threatens to consume me. “Special enough to beat it for. Special enough to live for.”

Everett nods, a glimmer of pride in his eyes mixed with a sadness so profound, it takes my breath away. “Well then, kiddo, let’s get back to work. Can’t have you turning into a drooling shadow maniac before you get your happily ever after, can we? Although I have to say, Beauty and the Beast: Shadow Edition has a nice ring to it.”

The shadows gather around me as I turn back to the ancient texts, a constant reminder of what I am and what I’m becoming. Now, though, Frankie’s memory shines like a beacon in the darkness, giving me strength and purpose. Her face, her touch, and her very essence become my anchor, keeping me tethered to sanity as I delve deeper into the abyss of my family’s curse.

I am Dorian Gray, heir to a cursed legacy and bearer of shadow’s power, and I will find a way to break this curse, not just for my sake, but for the chance of a future with Francesca, or I’ll die trying.

Therein lies the crux of my torment, the terrible truth I’ve been avoiding. If I break this curse, I may very well die. Before meeting Frankie, I was ready to embrace death and welcome it like an old friend, but now the thought of leaving her behind is a pain almost worse than the curse itself.

“Uncle,” I say, my voice rough with emotion and fear. “There’s something I haven’t told you. Something I’ve been too afraid to say out loud.”

Everett looks up from his book, his eyes sharp with concern. “What is it, kiddo? You know you can tell me anything, unless it’s about that time with the goat and the feather duster. Some secrets are better left buried.”

I can’t even muster up a smile at his attempt at humor. The weight of my realization presses down on me, threatening to crush me beneath its terrible truth. “If we break this curse and we find a way to end it once and for all… I might not survive it.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and oppressive. Everett’s face drains of color, his usual jovial expression replaced by one of stark horror. “What do you mean, you might not survive? Dorian, what aren’t you telling me?”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “The curse isn’t just affecting me anymore. It’s become a part of me. The shadows, the power, the very things that are driving me mad… they are also keeping me alive. If we destroy the curse…”

“You could die,” Everett finishes, his voice barely audible. “Gods, Dorian. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

I laugh, but it’s a hollow sound devoid of any real mirth. “How could I? How do you tell someone that your choices are madness or death? That the very thing that’s killing you is also the only thing keeping you alive?”

Everett sets his drink aside, all pretense of humor gone. He leans forward, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I don’t. “And you’re still willing to go through with this knowing what it might cost?”

For a moment, I hesitate. The selfish part of me, the part that wants to live, screams at me to stop and find another way, but then Frankie’s face flashes in my mind again, and I know what I have to do.

“Yes,” I say, my tone filled with a resolve I didn’t know I possessed. “I have to… for Francesca, you, and all the Grays who came before me and suffered under this curse. I can’t let it continue, even if it means my own destruction.”

Everett nods slowly, a mix of pride and sorrow etched on his face. “You’re a braver man than I ever was, Dorian, but are you sure? Is Frankie worth dying for?”

The question hangs in the air between us, charged with centuries of pain and loss. I close my eyes, letting Francesca’s image fill my mind—her smile, her laugh, and the way she looks at me like I’m something precious.

“She’s worth living for,” I answer softly, opening my eyes to meet Everett’s gaze. “And if living isn’t an option, then yes, she’s worth dying for. A world where she’s safe, where she can live without the shadow of my curse hanging over her, is a world worth creating, even if I’m not in it.”

Everett’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, I see the weight of all the loved ones he’s lost and all the pain he’s endured. He reaches out, clasping my shoulder with a grip that’s almost painfully tight. “Then we’ll find a way together, and if the worst happens, I’ll make sure she knows. I’ll make sure she understands what you did for her.”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. The gravity of my decision settles over me, both terrifying and liberating. I’ve made my choice.

The moment the decision settles in my heart, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The shadows, once content to lurk in corners, begin to pulse and writhe with a life of their own. The air thickens, heavy with the acrid taste of ozone and something older, something primal.

“Dorian?” Everett’s voice wavers, a note of fear I’ve never heard before creeping in. “Something’s not right…”

A book slides off a shelf, then another. The fire in the hearth flares impossibly high, casting grotesque shadows that seem to reach for us with grasping fingers.

“Uncle!” I gasp as pain suddenly lancing through my skull. “I think?—”

“Your eyes!” Everett stumbles back, his face pale with shock. “Dorian, your eyes!”

I spin toward the nearest mirror, my heart pounding. What I see nearly stops it altogether. My reflection stares back at me, but my eyes… they are not mine. They glow with an unholy light, with shadows and golden flecks swirling in their depths like some hellish galaxy.

The curse. It’s fighting back.

Pain lances through me, sharp and burning. I double over, gasping for breath as the shadows claw at me from the inside. “Uncle,” I choke out, “I think we’re running out of time.”

Everett is at my side in an instant, his arm around me as the room spins and distorts. “Hold on, kiddo. We’re close. We have to be. Just hold on a little longer.”

As the pain intensifies and the shadows threaten to consume me entirely, I cling to one thought, one name, like a lifeline—Francesca.

I’ll break this curse and keep her safe, even if it’s the last thing I do.

By scale and sky, I swear it.