The tomb breathes the moment Lara touches the artifact.
Not metaphorically.
The walls inhale—dust lifting, torches flickering, the air turning cold.
“Lara,” you say sharply. “Something’s wrong.”
She barely has time to turn before the sigil flares red beneath her palm.
She screams.
The sound tears through the chamber as dark veins crawl up her arm, glowing faintly beneath her skin. The artifact clatters to the floor, rolling to your feet.
When the shaking stops, the tomb is silent again.
Too silent.
Lara drops to one knee, breathing hard, teeth clenched like she’s trying not to cry out again.
“I’m fine,” she lies immediately.
You rush to her side. “Lara, look at your arm.”
She does.
For the first time since you’ve known her, real fear flashes across her face.
The curse doesn’t act all at once.
It’s worse than that.
It waits.
Over the next hours, Lara grows distant—withdrawn. Her reflexes are slower. Her hands shake when she thinks you’re not looking. At one point, she nearly collapses mid-step.
You catch her.
She doesn’t pull away.
“This isn’t just a physical curse,” you say quietly, flipping through the old texts you salvaged from the tomb. “It feeds on… isolation. Guilt. Regret.”
Lara laughs bitterly. “Then I’m doomed.”
You grab her wrist—gently but firmly. “No. Because you’re not alone.”
She looks at you then. Really looks.
“You don’t understand,” she says, voice low. “This thing—it knows me. Every choice I’ve made. Every person I couldn’t save.”
The markings on her skin pulse darker.
You move closer, forehead almost touching hers. “Then let me share the weight.”
The ritual to break the curse is dangerous.
It requires a bond—someone the cursed trusts completely. Someone willing to anchor them if the curse tries to take over.
Lara doesn’t hesitate. “I choose you.”
During the ritual, the curse fights back.
Lara cries out, body arching as shadows claw at her mind. You hold her hands, grounding her, speaking her name over and over.
“Stay with me, Lara. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.”
Her grip tightens painfully.
“I’m scared,” she whispers—barely audible, but it shatters you.