The Stone Lions' Curse A Son's Deadly Secret

Three years and a million dollars later, I finally finished renovating the old family homestead back in my hometown. Even installed two stone lions at the entrance to guard the place.

Our whole family moved in for New Year, thrilled—but the trouble started immediately.

The old woman next door kept hanging her underwear to dry on the lions' heads. When it wasn't underwear, it was dead chickens and ducks left to rot on them. And in the middle of the night, she'd sneak over and splash manure water all over them.

We confronted her several times. She'd agree to stop, then do it again the next day.

Everyone in town said Old Madge was a fool—impossible to reason with. They advised me to just build a fence around the yard.

I took their advice and started construction immediately. But Madge came running over, face white with terror, and blocked the workers.

"Poor people can't keep lions! If you can't feed the lions until they're full, they'll bite their owner back…"

——

"Hahahaha… A fool's a fool—everything out of her mouth is nonsense!"

She stood there with her two braids sticking up like ox horns, face flushed and simple, blurting out that line—and honestly, it was so absurd my anger dissolved into laughter.

Looking at this crazy old woman—foolish her whole life, mocked her whole life—I felt a pang of something. Pity, maybe.

I told her to stop making trouble. Kept my voice calm, tried not to get angry. But she just tensed up, braced her frail body in front of the stone lions, and repeated herself with dead seriousness.

"Poor people can't keep lions! If you can't feed them full, they'll bite their owner back… I'm not joking. I'm warning you. Believe me. I don't have much time when I'm lucid. Master Orion told me to tell you. I'm a page boy at his side. I won't live long. I'm about to return to him."

I'd heard this speech a hundred times.

Madge wandered this town her whole life. Crazy and foolish, never married, no children. She survived on vegetables from her little garden and charity from neighbors. That's how she'd made it to this age.

She had lucid moments—rare ones. And every time, she'd repeat the same lines. Everyone in town knew them by heart.

She claimed she was a celestial page boy, punished and sent down to the mortal world for some mistake. That's why she was mad. Now she sensed her time was almost up, so she was using her last bit of clarity to warn me—trying to earn blessings for herself by saving my family.

But the workers just spat and laughed.

"You said it yourself—poor people can't keep lions. This is Mr. Lambert's grandson! He makes millions a year! Runs his own company—how's he not rich?"

"Exactly! If you're gonna scare someone, pick the right target. The Lamberts are the richest family in the county. If they're poor, nobody's rich!"

They were cruel for fun. Mocking wasn't enough—they grabbed her braids and yanked.

Madge yelped in pain, baring her teeth, wailing. They laughed harder.

"I'm not lying! I'm not lying! I'm a page boy at the Oracle's side. Everything I said is true—don't laugh at me!"

She cried, truly hurt, and it twisted something in my chest. She'd caused my family plenty of trouble, sure. But watching this… I couldn't hate her.

"Alright, enough. She's ancient—can't you tell you're being too rough?"

I snapped at them, made them let go, and walked Madge back to her place.

At her door—a house that looked more like a garbage heap—she told me to wait. She hopped inside, rummaged around, and came back with two walnuts.

"Alex Lambert, don't refuse to believe me. I already warned you, and you won't listen. When the time comes, you'll suffer for it." She pressed the walnuts into my palm. "Keep these. To protect yourself."