I was born with a cursed tongue. Whatever bad I say, happens. Instantly. When I was four, I dropped a single grain of rice. My grandmother snatched me up and dragged me toward the old cesspit behind the house. “You wasteful thing! Still daring to waste food? I should just drown you now and be done with it!” I looked up at her and said softly, “You’re the one who’s going to fall in and drown.” The words had barely left my lips when her foot slipped on the muddy edge. She pitched forward into the filth and never climbed out. My grandfather pointed a shaking finger at me, his voice cracking. “You’re a jinx! A bad omen!” He said I’d killed her. The next day, he sold me to a man from out of town. As they walked away, I watched his back and whispered, “You and him. A speeding truck is going to hit you both.” No sooner had I spoken than a pickup truck, swerving to avoid a deer, barreled down the dirt road. It crushed them both beneath its wheels. The people in our small town said I was a devil child. They wanted to beat me to death, to silence my cursed mouth before I took them all down with me. My parents, desperate, knelt before the head of a spiritual sanctuary on Quiet Mountain for three days and three nights. They begged her to take me in, to let me live among them, hoping the mountain's deep silence could contain my voice, could… protect me. They promised they’d come for me when things got better. But I waited and waited. I grew up in the sanctuary, becoming known in whispers as the girl who spoke to the mountain, and still, they never came. Until the day my mother appeared, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She had come to take me down the mountain. “Seraphina,” she choked out, “your father… they broke his legs. And your sister… those animals, they ruined her… Come home with me, Sera. Come see them one last time…” Seeing the endless grief on her face, I said nothing. I just packed my simple clothes and walked out of the sanctuary gates for the first time in sixteen years. Since entering that quiet place, I had rarely spoken a word. But now, I was ready to speak. And when I spoke, I would bring ruin to the houses of the wicked. 1 My mother didn't take me back to our town in the foothills. Instead, we took a train, then another, journeying deep into the heart of a sprawling city, descending into a basement apartment. The room was sunless and suffocating, thick with the stench of sickness and despair. It held nothing but a single, dilapidated bed, upon which lay two people who were already ghosts. My father, once a man of broad shoulders and easy strength, was now a skeleton, his skin stretched thin over jutting bones. One leg was horrifically bent, a shard of bone piercing the skin, the wound crawling with maggots. My sister, Amelia, was even thinner. She was little more than a head on a skeletal frame, a husk wrapped in skin. Her eyes, wide and vacant, stared at nothing. She was a living corpse. A hot rage burned behind my eyes. In all my years at the sanctuary, Amelia’s letters had been my only connection to the world. She’d send them with whatever small comforts my parents could afford—a new shirt, a little cash. She was only two when I left, but I remember her pressing a sticky piece of candy into my mouth, her eyes shining. “For you, Sera. It’s sweet.” That was the one and only time my cursed tongue had ever tried to form a blessing. “You be good, Amelia. May you grow up happy and safe.” For all these years, I had allowed myself to believe she had. That my wish had somehow worked. Today, I learned the truth. My curse only worked one way. I wiped the tear from the corner of my eye. If they were so blind as to lay a hand on my family… Then I would teach them what it truly meant to be cursed. Before my mother could finish explaining, the steel door to the basement crashed and shuddered under a heavy barrage of kicks. “You filthy bitch, get out here! You didn't take care of us last time, so today you’re gonna pay!” “Little slut! Thought you could crawl into Mr. Blackwood’s bed and get away with it? You pissed off Miss Langford, and now Mr. Blackwood is pissed. He sent us to teach you a lesson, to help Miss Langford cool off. He’s paying us good money to make sure you never walk right again!” Amelia, who had been catatonic, began to tremble violently, her hands flying to her head as she shrieked, “I didn’t… I didn’t climb into his bed! I’m not a homewrecker… It wasn’t me!” My father, gritting his teeth against the agony, dragged his broken body across the mattress to pull her into his arms. Before I could process what was happening, the door burst open with a deafening crash. A bucket of red paint flew through the air, drenching me. In an instant, I was covered head to toe in crimson, dripping like some demon clawed up from the depths of hell. A few thugs with cheap, dyed hair froze when they saw me, then broke into leering grins. “Well, well. You hiding a new one? She’s not bad looking.” “Perfect. We’re tired of the old one anyway. Looks like we’re all getting a turn today, boys!” Spitting filth, they began to spray-paint the walls with words like WHORE, SLUT, HOMEWRECKER… The leader, a cigarette dangling from his lips, sneered at us. “You really think you could hide from us down here?” “Mr. Blackwood’s offer was too good to pass up. We’ve been watching you in shifts. There’s no running.” My mother, her eyes blazing with a fury I’d never seen, screamed, “You can only kill a person once! You broke her father’s leg, you… you did what you did to my daughter! What more do you want? Do you want us all dead?” The thug spat on the floor. “Dead? That’s too easy. Miss Langford is a kind woman. She wants you to live. A long, long time.” “You get to die when she gets bored. Not a second before.” Another one picked up a paintbrush and advanced on my sister with a twisted smile. “Come on, little slut. Let me write a little something on your face. A nice photo for Miss Langford to cheer her up.” “What should we write today? How about… ‘I’m a bitch in heat. Free to use.’” He reached for her, but I threw myself in his path. He kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me sprawling. “Get out of the way, you fucking mutt. You looking to die?” I lay on the filthy concrete, then slowly pushed myself up. A cold, thin smile touched my lips. “You animals don’t deserve to live another day. In a moment, you will all be crushed to death by stones falling from the sky.” The room erupted in mocking laughter. “Stones from the sky? Is she crazy? What the hell is she talking about?” The laughter died in their throats as a tremendous cracking sound echoed from above. The ceiling gave way. A gaping hole opened, and massive slabs of concrete rained down upon them. 2 They were all crushed instantly, their laughter replaced by the sickening crunch of bone. My mother and I didn't hesitate. We each grabbed one of my parents and hauled them out of that concrete tomb. The moment we cleared the doorway, the entire ceiling collapsed, burying them all. No one could have survived. My mother stared at the rubble, her face pale, her voice a trembling whisper. “Sera… what are we going to do?” I managed a faint smile, pulling a thick wad of cash from my pocket—lifted from the lead thug’s jacket in the chaos. “First, we find a quiet place. A clean place. Then we get Dad and Amelia to a doctor.” A flicker of hope returned to my mother’s eyes. She nodded, her resolve hardening. “Okay. Whatever you say.” We settled them in a small rented house on the edge of the city. As they rested, the full, ugly story finally came out. After I was left at the sanctuary, Amelia dedicated her life to one goal: getting me back. She studied relentlessly, determined to succeed, to make enough money so our family could be whole again. My parents, banished from our hometown, worked themselves to the bone at menial jobs, saving every penny for the day we could be reunited. But even in the city, the best they could afford was that lightless basement. They never wanted me to suffer with them. Life at the sanctuary was austere, but the headmistress was kind. I had food, shelter, and peace. They couldn't bear to drag me from that. Then, Amelia graduated from college and landed a job at Blackwood Enterprises, as a personal assistant to the CEO, Donovan Blackwood. She was brilliant. She single-handedly secured a major client, earning a massive bonus and a promotion. She called my parents, ecstatic. It was enough. Enough to move out of the basement, enough to get a real house, enough to finally bring me home. But Amelia never saw that bonus. At the company’s annual gala, Donovan Blackwood’s fiancée, Victoria Langford, stormed in. In front of hundreds of colleagues, she slapped Amelia across the face, the sound echoing through the ballroom. “A little slut who slept her way into a job, and you dare show your face here? You think you’ve earned a place at this table?” She looked down her nose at my sister, her voice dripping with venom. “Someone get over here and rip that cheap dress off her! Let’s show everyone the price of being a homewrecker!” Amelia, shaking, looked to Donovan Blackwood, her voice a desperate plea. “Mr. Blackwood, please… tell her. Tell her nothing happened.” He didn’t even meet her eyes. “Amelia, you’ve upset my fiancée. Whatever she decides is a fitting punishment, you deserve it. As long as it makes her happy.” He then wrapped his arm around Victoria and walked away. While the entire company watched, my sister was stripped and humiliated, her spirit shattered. That night, she climbed to the roof of the office building. The wind was cold, and all she wanted was the release of death. But before she could jump, a group of thugs dragged her back from the ledge and pulled her into a dark alley. All night, the only sound was her screaming. The next day, a video of her ordeal was delivered to Victoria Langford. Donovan’s voice was casual, offhand. “See, Victoria? You think I’d waste my time with trash like that? Are you satisfied now?” Victoria pouted, her red lips forming a sneer. “How do I know this isn’t all an act? That you won’t just whisper a few sweet words and have her wrapped around your finger again?” Donovan issued an order on the spot. “Hire some guys. Have them follow her. Let them do whatever they want. They stop when Victoria says she’s not angry anymore.” From that day on, my sister’s life became a living hell. They tortured her with every cruel method imaginable, until there wasn’t an inch of her skin left unscarred. When my father tried to protect her, they shattered his leg on the spot. Listening to this, the quiet stillness I had cultivated for sixteen years burned away, replaced by a fire that consumed everything. Once I saw that my father and sister were stable and safe, I told my mother to lock the doors and trust no one. I took the simple travel bag I’d brought from the mountain and walked out of the house without a backward glance. You used your power and influence to push my family to the brink of death. Now, it’s my turn. Don’t blame my cursed tongue for what comes next. I am simply opening my mouth and sending you on your way. 3 Dressed in the simple, homespun clothes of the sanctuary, I appeared outside the gleaming tower of Blackwood Enterprises. Years of mountain air and quiet contemplation had given me an aura of otherworldly calm. That, combined with a face that had been called beautiful, was enough to stop people in their tracks. Within hours, photos and videos of me went viral. “The Mountain Mystic.” “The Girl Who Speaks Fate.” An endless stream of wealthy young men and reporters came, trying to get a word, a reaction. I remained silent, my expression serene. Until Donovan Blackwood walked past me. For the first time, I spoke. “Sir,” I said, my voice clear and calm. “You have a darkness about your brow. Blood will be spilled today.” A murmur went through the crowd. “She spoke!” “Tell my fortune next!” Donovan Blackwood stopped, his gaze a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “Oh? And what kind of blood are we talking about?” I looked directly into his eyes. “In a moment, sir, your forehead will be cut open.” The crowd of onlookers pressed closer, amused. “Don’t go, Mr. Blackwood! Let’s see if the mystic is right!” He found the whole situation absurd but was intrigued enough to play along. He crossed his arms. “Alright. I’m waiting. Let’s see how accurate this prophecy is…” CRASH! Before he could finish, a car careened out of control, slamming into a nearby street sign. A piece of metal shrapnel flew through the air, slicing across his temple. Blood instantly streamed down his face. The crowd gasped, their amusement turning to stunned awe. Their eyes on me were now filled with a feverish reverence. That evening, Donovan Blackwood hosted a dinner in my honor, attended by the city’s elite. I simply nodded and accepted the invitation. The restaurant was a masterpiece of glass and light, overlooking the glittering city. A table of the finest vegetarian cuisine had been prepared for me. Donovan raised his glass. “To the mystic who spoke today. If not for your warning, that car might have hit me directly. May I ask your name?” I smiled faintly. “You can call me Seraphina.” The men at the table seemed captivated by that small smile. I had just picked up my fork when the restaurant's grand doors burst open with a violent bang. As expected, Victoria Langford swept in, flanked by a squad of grim-faced bodyguards. She marched straight to me. She raised her hand to strike, but Donovan caught her wrist. “Victoria, don’t be rude! This is Seraphina, a master.” Her eyes were wild and red. “Master? Don’t make me laugh! She’s just another slut in a costume trying to seduce you!” She ripped her arm from Donovan’s grasp. “She calls herself a mystic? Then why does she have hair? Men! Shave her head, right here, right now! Let’s show the whole internet what happens to wannabe-spiritual homewreckers!” She then jabbed a finger at Donovan. “Donovan Blackwood, if you dare stop me, the engagement is off! We’ll see how long your precious family business lasts then!” She glared around the room. “And if anyone else here isn’t afraid of making an enemy of the Langford family, feel free to step in and stop me!” Any words of protest died in the throats of the other guests. The room fell silent. Donovan tried to placate her. “Victoria, this time is different. Please, don’t make a scene.” “I’m making a scene?” Her eyes filled with tears. “You never cared what I did before, but for this… this fortune-telling tramp, you say I’m making a scene?” Her expression hardened instantly. “You forced my hand, Donovan! Men! Don’t just shave her head, break her legs! I’m going to throw her in a pit of snakes and let them bite her to death, piece by piece!” The guests turned pale. Victoria’s reputation as “The She-Devil” was well-earned; her cruelty towards those she deemed beneath her was legendary, and she always made good on her threats. With the Blackwood and Langford families behind her, no one dared to cross her. Seeing her fury, Donovan fell silent. He actually stepped aside, his tone suddenly indulgent. “Alright, alright. Whatever you want. I’ll handle the consequences.” I almost laughed. Consequences? This time, none of you are strong enough to handle the consequences. Donovan’s surrender only fueled her rage. Two bodyguards grabbed me, forcing me to my knees on the floor. She yanked my hair, pulling my head back, and brought her sharp, manicured nails toward my face. I spoke, my voice a low hum. “Victoria Langford, your hand is about to break.” It hadn't even touched my skin. CRACK! A sickening snap echoed in the silent room. Her wrist bent at an impossible angle. “Aaaah!” she shrieked, letting go of my hair and collapsing in agony. 4 The entire room stared in shock. In that moment of stunned silence, I shook off the dazed bodyguards, smoothed my clothes, and calmly returned to my seat. I picked up my fork and took a deliberate, slow bite of food. Five-star hotel. The food really was delicious. No one moved. No one spoke. They looked at me as if I were a ghost. Victoria was still writhing on the floor, screaming. Donovan’s face was a mask of disbelief as he rushed to her side. “What was that? What did you do? You spoke, and her wrist just… broke?” His voice hardened. “Miss Seraphina, you owe me an explanation. Or I won’t hesitate to use less pleasant methods.” In his arms, Victoria shrieked, “Donovan, kill her! Kill her right now! She did this to me!” I smiled gently. “Miss Langford, everyone saw. I didn’t lay a single finger on you. How could I have possibly broken your wrist?” “Perhaps you have a calcium deficiency. You should get more sun.” Donovan’s face was dark with rage. He lifted her to carry her out. He had taken only two steps when I spoke again, my voice casual. “Donovan Blackwood, you’re about to fall.” Before the words faded, his foot caught on something, and he pitched forward. THUD. He went down hard, sending Victoria flying from his arms. She landed in a heap, crying out in pain. As a Langford heiress, she had only ever been the one to inflict humiliation. To suffer it herself was unthinkable. Forgetting her broken wrist, she screamed at her bodyguards. “Get her! Shut her cursed mouth for good!” Donovan scrambled up, pulling her close, his voice a furious command to his men. “Do what she says!” But seeing what they had just seen, the men hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. One of the other guests asked tentatively, “Miss Seraphina… how did you know he was going to fall?” I smiled. “Oh, I saw his shoelace was untied. He tripped over it.” The simple explanation seemed to break the tension. The bodyguards took a collective breath and began to close in again. I set down my fork, lifted my tea, and took a slow, deliberate sip. My voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable warning. “I wouldn’t touch me if I were you. If you do, no one is having a good night.” The bodyguards had already earned a furious glare from Victoria for their hesitation. If they didn’t act now, their own fate would be grim. I spoke again, my voice barely a whisper. “The next person who touches me will have their arm broken.” One of them lunged, his hand brushing my shoulder. He recoiled instantly with a piercing scream. “My arm! My arm!” Everyone watched in horror as his arm, the one that had touched me, dangled at a grotesque, unnatural angle. It was clearly broken. Panic finally erupted. The guests shot to their feet, their eyes wide with terror. “This is… this is witchcraft! Whatever she says comes true!” “What is she? Is she even human? Is she possessed?” Some of the weaker-kneed guests were already starting to collapse. Everyone’s only thought was to escape. This was bad luck on a scale they couldn’t comprehend. Donovan, terrified now, supported Victoria and turned to flee, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and this creature of ill omen. As the crowd surged toward the exit, I spoke one last time, my voice soft but absolute. “Tonight, no one is leaving this room.” SLAM! The instant the words left my mouth, the heavy oak doors swung shut with impossible force. They pushed, they kicked, they threw their bodies against them, but the doors wouldn't budge. They were as solid as the wall itself. Even when the hotel’s maintenance staff came with power tools, the doors remained sealed tight. Donovan finally lost his composure completely. He spun around and yelled at me. “Miss Seraphina! We have no quarrel with you! This dinner was to thank you! Why are you doing this to us?” Only then did I slowly rise from my chair and walk toward him and Victoria. Victoria, all her previous arrogance gone, shrank behind Donovan, her eyes wide with a primal fear as she met my gaze. Seeing the panic on their faces, I finally let a real smile show, a smile as cold as ice. “I forgot to mention,” I said. “My family name is Song. I am Seraphina Song.” “The woman you slandered as a homewrecker, the woman you had tortured day and night… Amelia Song… is my sister.” “Now,” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper, “tell me again why I shouldn’t make your life a living hell?” The color drained from their faces. They stared at me in pure horror and stumbled back a step.
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