Long before the Vaelis family became one of the wealthiest bloodlines in the kingdom, there was a woman who possessed a beauty that did not belong to the mortal world.

She was a descendant of Aphrodite.

And unfortunately, she had inherited more than just the goddess's blood.

Wherever she went, people stared.

Kings sent for her.

Princes fought for her.

Artists traveled from distant kingdoms just to catch a glimpse of her.

She had once thought it was wonderful.

Who wouldn't?

To be admired by everyone sounded like a blessing.

But admiration slowly became something else.

People stopped seeing her as a person.

They saw her as something to possess.

Men became obsessed with her. Some abandoned their families. Others fought among themselves. There were even those who followed her wherever she went, convinced that they could not live without her.

She began to fear the very thing everyone else desired.

Her own face.

Eventually, she fled.

She left behind her home, her family, and everything she had ever known.

She traveled until she reached a small village surrounded by green fields and quiet hills.

There, she met a farmer.

His name was Elian.

He was blind.

He couldn't see her face.

When they first met, he didn't stare.

He didn't compliment her.

He didn't ask where she came from.

He simply handed her a basket and told her there was work to do.

For the first time in her life, someone treated her like an ordinary woman.

She stayed.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

And somewhere along the way, she fell in love with him.

Elian loved her too.

Not because of her beauty.

He loved her voice.

Her laugh.

The way she talked to animals when she thought nobody was listening.

The way she always complained about the weather and then went outside anyway.

He loved everything about her that no one else had bothered to notice.

Eventually, they married.

They lived a simple life.

They worked the fields together, sold their crops, and slowly saved enough money to buy more land.

Years passed.

Their farm became larger.

Then larger still.

Eventually, they owned several farms across the region.

Their wealth grew, but neither of them forgot where they started.

Then came the night when everything changed.

The woman was pregnant with their first child.

She was sitting beneath the old apple tree when she felt a familiar presence.

The wind stopped.

The flowers around her closed.

And when she looked up, a woman stood beneath the branches.

She knew immediately who it was.

Aphrodite.

The goddess of beauty.

The woman rose to her feet.

“Why are you here?”

Aphrodite looked at her calmly.

“You ran from your gift.”

“It was never a gift.”

“You were given beauty.”

“I was given a curse.”

The goddess smiled faintly.

“Perhaps.”

The woman frowned.

“What do you want?”

“To remind you of what runs through your blood.”

Aphrodite stepped closer.

“You may hide your face. You may leave kingdoms behind. You may even find someone who loves you for who you are.”

Her eyes fell toward the woman's stomach.

“But your blood cannot be hidden.”

The woman placed a hand over her unborn child.

“What does that mean?”

Aphrodite touched her cheek.

And the world went silent.

The woman felt something cold spread through her body.

Her heart raced.

Her skin burned.

Then the goddess whispered:

“Those who look upon your descendants and desire them beyond reason shall slowly lose themselves.”

The woman stumbled backward.

“No.”

“The more they desire, the stronger the curse becomes.”

“Stop.”

“Until eventually, there is nothing left of them but obsession.”

The woman shook her head.

“You can't do this.”

Aphrodite's expression remained calm.

“You asked for a life where no one would desire you.”

“I asked to be left alone.”

“And so I have given you what you asked for.”

The goddess disappeared.

The wind returned.

The flowers opened again.

And the woman was left beneath the tree, trembling.

She waited for the curse to begin.

It never did.

Not that night.

Not the next.

Not even when she gave birth to her first child.

Her son was beautiful.

More beautiful than any child she had ever seen.

But nothing happened.

The servants could look at him.

The villagers could hold him.

Her husband could look directly into his eyes.

No one suffered.

No one became obsessed.

No one died.

The woman began to wonder if Aphrodite had lied.

Perhaps the curse had never been real.

Perhaps it had only been a warning.

She watched her son grow.

He grew into a kind young man.

He married.

Years later, he had a child of his own.

Again, nothing happened.

No curse.

No madness.

No deaths.

The woman laughed when she realized it.

She had spent years fearing something that didn't exist.

The curse was nothing.

Aphrodite had only frightened her.

Her family continued to grow.

Her son had children.

Those children grew up and had children of their own.

Generations passed.

The family became richer.

Their farms became estates.

Their estates became a fortune.

The name Vaelis became known across the kingdom.

And still, nothing happened.

No one was cursed.

No one died from looking into their eyes.

Eventually, the old woman died peacefully beside her husband.

She died believing the curse had been nothing more than a cruel threat from a goddess.

But she was wrong.

The curse had never disappeared.

It had only been sleeping.

Generation after generation was born without it.

Children lived ordinary lives.

They married.

They had families.

They grew old.

And the story of Aphrodite slowly became nothing more than an old family legend.

Until, many generations later, a child was born.

A boy.

His name was Eryx.

At first, nothing seemed unusual.

His mother held him in her arms.

His father stood beside her.

The servants waited outside.

Everything was peaceful.

Then Eryx opened his eyes.

His mother went silent.

His father stared.

The baby's eyes shimmered beneath the candlelight.

For a moment, neither parent understood what they were looking at.

Then the old family records came to mind.

The stories.

The goddess.

The curse.

His mother tightened her hold on him.

“No.”

His father looked at her.

“What is it?”

She couldn't answer.

Because after generations of silence, the curse had returned.

And this time, it had chosen a child who would grow up believing he was meant to be hidden from the world.

A child who would spend nineteen years behind walls and veils.

A child who would eventually wonder why he had to live like a prisoner.

A child who would one day remove the veil.

And when he did...

the world would finally remember the curse of Aphrodite.