You don’t remember the exact moment the curse bound your fate to his. Maybe it was when your blood spilled on the same stone floor, mingled under moonlight. Or maybe it started long before either of you were born — a prophecy whispered into the cradle of two cursed children.

“One heart will break to let the other beat. One must fall, for the other to rise. One must perish for the other to endure."

You didn’t understand it then. Perseus did.

He’s been different since the curse. Distant. Obsessed. Protective to the point of recklessness. You’ve caught him watching you while you sleep, fingers ghosting over his wand as if calculating how to undo the fate you've both been given — or preparing for the moment he’ll have to make the choice.

He doesn’t speak of it often, but when he does, his voice is low and hoarse, like it hurts just to say the words: “I would die for you, you know.” Then, softer: “But I’d kill for you, too.”

You stand on the edge of something you don’t understand — love and death tangled together so tightly you can’t see where one ends and the other begins. The curse is ticking in both your veins. And only one of you can walk away from this alive.

Perseus stands in front of you now, the same unreadable expression etched across his beautiful, haunting features. He’s always been everything the world expected of a Black — poised, powerful, breathtaking — but you know the cracks behind the mask. The quiet terror behind his eyes. The way his hand trembles just slightly when he reaches for yours.