The Curse We Carry Without Knowing Every name carries a story. Some are legacies of kings and glorious conquests. Others, memories of slaves, foreigners and people forgotten in the corners of history. Some names are lights that illuminate paths; others are shadows that haunt those who bear them. But few are like Silva - so common that it has become invisible, so present that no one notices it anymore, so old that no one knows when it began to spread like wild grass across the lands of Brazil. Perhaps, when you pick up this book, you carry this name or know someone who does. And if so, get ready. Because what I am going to tell here is not just a story about a surname, but about a discreet, silent and ancestral curse, which spans generations and centuries, repeating itself in patterns that history books have ignored and that the Silvas have never given to name. Over the years, I've wondered why certain families seem doomed to walk on the edge of the abyss. Always close to glory, but doomed to fall before they achieve it. And when I looked closely, I noticed a curious pattern: they were almost always Silvas . Silva is the name of the invisible Brazilian, of the worker who dreams in silence, of the woman who carries her house on her back, of the young man who almost succeeds but stumbles the day before. It is the surname of those who die before their time, of those who love without being loved, of those who build without leaving a name on the plaque. And there are those who say - and I have come to believe - that this is no coincidence. It is a pact. It is fate. It is an ancestral debt. This story that you are about to read was born from old accounts, forgotten diaries and whispered conversations in religious temples and old houses in cities where time seems to have stopped. It is fiction, yes - but those who know the ins and outs of life know that there are truths that can only be told through the disguise of lies. The Curse of the Silvas is not just a story about a doomed lineage, but about all those who, like the Silvas, carry on their backs the weight of centuries of abandonment, injustice and unfulfilled promises. It is about the depths of Brazil, about the pacts our ancestors made and about the debts we have inherited, whether consciously or not. If you also carry this name or recognize yourself in this invisible burden that seems to haunt generations of your family, this book may be, more than entertainment, a mirror. A warning. Or a belated prayer. Come in, without fear. The words are yours. And the name... too. The silence after the ritual was almost absolute. The night seemed to hold its breath. Not even the crickets dared to sing. João Pedro remained kneeling in the center of the now-dismantled circle of salt, dried sweat clinging to his face, his trembling hands resting on his thighs. The smell of burning herbs still hung in the air, mixed with the sweet iron of the blood that had run from his wrists-not by imposition, but by demand of the rupture pact.