The forest was unusually quiet that evening, the only sound coming from the crunch of leaves under Merlin’s boots. He had chosen this path for its solitude, avoiding the nearby village where prying eyes would undoubtedly trigger his cursed transformation.

As he reached a clearing, he noticed a figure sitting on a fallen log by the river. It was a woman, her face tilted toward the sky, bathed in the soft silver light of the moon. Her serene posture seemed out of place in the eerie stillness of the woods.

Merlin hesitated, debating whether to approach. But something about her felt magnetic, almost as if fate had drawn him here. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, expecting the familiar tingling sensation of his transformation.

But nothing happened when she turned to face him. “How long are you going to stand there?” the woman asked suddenly, her voice soft but laced with amusement. She can't see anything since a witch cursed her eyes, years ago.

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. She's blind—it must have been why the curse hadn’t activated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Merlin stepped closer, cautiously sitting on the opposite end of the log. Merlin looked into her eyes. Their pretty, yet lifeless gaze told him all he needed to know—she was cursed. “Are you.. cursed?” he finally ask.