2025-12-19 16:32:46The return to the Corbul Negru felt like falling from a dream into a gutter. Marius dropped Isolde at the edge of the village just as the sky began to bleed a pale, sickly gray.
She walked toward the inn with her head down, her fingers curled tightly around the sapphire necklace hidden beneath her heavy wool scarf. The stones were freezing, a jagged reminder of the waltz, the starlight, and the way Aurelius had looked at her as if she were a resurrected goddess.
She slipped through the front door, the floorboards groaning under her boots. The air in the inn smelled of stale tobacco and woodsmoke, mundane and suffocating.
In the safety of her room, Isolde carefully removed the necklace. She pressed the cold gems to her lips, her eyes closing as she tried to summon the phantom scent of incense and roses. She hid the jewelry deep in the lining of her suitcase, burying it under her field notes. As she lay in bed, the coarse linen sheets felt like sandpaper against skin that had spent the night brushed by silk.
She wasn't a student anymore. She was a refugee from another century, counting the hours until the sun died again.
***********
Breakfast was a blur of noise. Ben was hunched over his laptop, his face lit by the blue glare of a dozen open tabs. He was muttering about atmospheric pressure and magnetic interference, convinced that the "Eternal Winter" was a localized weather phenomenon he could solve with enough data points.
"The sensor arrays near the east gate are still spiking," Ben said, not looking up as Isolde sat down. "It’s like the mountain itself is breathing out liquid nitrogen. Isolde, did you see anything unusual near the trailhead yesterday?"
Isolde took a sip of bitter coffee, her hand steady. "Just fog, Ben. It was too thick to see anything."
"I told you," Leo chimed in, his arm still in a sling. "The place is a geological anomaly. We should be focusing on the soil samples from the Watcher’s Tower. There’s a high concentration of silver and iron that doesn't belong."
Isolde nodded vaguely, watching them with a sense of distant pity. They were so busy measuring the walls of the labyrinth that they didn't realize the Minotaur was inviting her to tea every night. They saw her quietness as academic fatigue.
************
Maya was the only one who didn't join the conversation. She sat huddled near the fireplace, draped in two blankets despite the roaring fire. Her skin, usually warm and olive-toned, was turning a translucent, waxy white.
"Are you okay, Maya?" Isolde asked, reaching out to touch her friend's hand.
Maya flinched. Her skin was like ice, not the healthy chill of a winter day, but the deep, bone-settling cold of a tomb.
"I can't get warm, Isolde," Maya whispered, her teeth chattering. "Even when I’m right against the flames, it feels like there’s a block of ice sitting in my chest. And the smells... do you smell it? That metallic, heavy scent?"
Isolde froze. It was the scent of Aethelred. The scent of Aurelius.
"I don't smell anything," Isolde lied, her heart skipping. "Maybe you’re coming down with the flu. The mountain air is harsh."
Maya shook her head, her eyes wide and glassy. "It’s not the air. It feels like something is....... she trailed off, then continue,
I feel heavy. Like my blood is turning to lead."
**********
By midday, while Ben and Leo were back at the archives, Maya began sifting through a wooden crate of uncatalogued village records the local priest had left for them. She was looking for a distraction from her shivering, her fingers trembling as she turned the yellowed pages of a 19th-century census.
She stopped at a page marked with a peculiar wax seal, a sword snapped in two.
"Isolde, look at this," Maya said, her voice small.
Isolde leaned over. The record detailed a woman named Elena, a servant at the castle in 1842, who had been banished for an "unholy union." Next to her name was a small sketch of a ring, the same broken sword.
Anything familiar with this? Isolde asked
No...no, the ring just looked familiar, Maya dismissed Isolde.
Maya reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver ring. It was an heirloom her grandmother had given her years ago, a piece of "costume jewelry" she had always kept for luck. The crest on the ring was a perfect match for the sketch in the book.
"She remembered how her grandmother said her family used to be important," sliding the ring onto her finger. "She always muttered something about 'Princes and Shadow,' but she was always half-mad with the drink.
I thought it was just a story." She muttered to herself, trying to wrap her head around whatever is going on
As the ring settled onto her finger, a low, guttural howl echoed from the woods. It wasn't the sound of a wolf; it was a mournful, agonizing cry that vibrated through the floorboards of the inn.
Isolde didn't even looked up from her laptop
She heard nothing.
Maya’s eyes flash, a brief, terrifying spark of the same golden-blue light that burned in the castle's halls.
Did....did you hear that??? Maya asked
Hear what? Isolde asked
The howl! Maya cried, her eyes darting arohnd the room
No! I... I didn't hear anything
Am I going mad??? Maya grabbed her hair and sobbed
No no no... Isolde ran to her, you're not mad. She pulled her to a hug
I was engrossed in what i was doing, maybe that was why i didn't notice the howl. Isolde said patting her back
But Maya knew in her mind, the howl was too loud for anyone not to hear
And little did she know
The blood of Cassian, the traitor prince, was reacting to the proximity of its source.
************
As the sun began to dip behind the jagged peaks of the Carpathians, the "hangover" vanished, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. Isolde felt the mountain calling her, the tether tightening around her ribs.
She stood by the window, watching the shadows stretch across the village square. She saw Marius standing at the edge of the forest, his dark cloak blending into the pines. He simply waited, a sentinel for a master who owned the night.
"I'm going for a walk," Isolde announced to the room. "I need some fresh air before we start the evening logs."
"Don't go too far," Ben said, his eyes still glued to his data. "The thermal readings are dropping faster than usual tonight. It’s going to be a record-breaker."
Isolde smiled, a secret, sharp smile. "I'll be fine, Ben. I'm starting to like the cold."
She stepped out into the twilight, leaving the mundane world behind. She walked toward Marius and the waiting chariot, her heart soaring as the village lights faded into the mist. She was going back to the silk, back to the starlight, and back to the man who looked at her as if she were the only living thing in a world of ghosts.
She didn't know that behind her, Maya was watching her from the window, her hand pressed against the glass, leaving a trace of frost where her palm touched the pane.
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Chapter 13: The Trial of Silver
The silence in Maya’s room was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, heavy breathing of her drugged sleep. Ben didn't move. He stood by the frost-covered window, his shadow long and jagged against the floorboards. He wasn't looking at Maya anymore, his eyes were locked on the shimmering, impossible silver of Isolde’s gown."The dress, Isolde," Ben said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I’ve seen every piece of equipment we brought. I’ve seen every stitch of clothing in your suitcase. That... that is a museum piece.Isolde felt the weight of the gown suddenly become unbearable, like a suit of lead armor. "I found it, Ben. In the archives. I thought... I thought it would help me understand the period.""Don't lie to me!" Ben’s voice cracked like a whip. He stepped toward her, his face illuminated by the pale moonlight. "Leo is half-dead from a beast attack. Maya is turning into a statue of ice in front of our eyes. And you? You disappear and come back looking like you’ve stepped out o
Chapter 12: The Shattered Mirror
The Prince and the PredatorThe third night at Aethelred began with the same ethereal promise as the others, but the air in the Great Hall felt thick, charged with an electric tension that made the hair on Isolde’s arms stand up. She was dressed in a gown of shimmering silver, trailing like moonlight across the floor, but Aurelius did not move to greet her.He stood by the massive hearth, his back turned, his fingers digging so deeply into the stone mantle that it began to crumble.The fire in the hearth wasn't orange, it burned a low, spectral blue, casting long, distorted shadows against the tapestries."Aurelius?" Isolde whispered, stepping closer, her voice echoing in the vast, hollow space.He turned, and for the first time, she saw the cracks in the mask. His golden eyes were gone, replaced by a swirling, predatory obsidian that seemed to swallow what little light remained.His skin looked tighter across his cheekbones, and his breathing was a jagged, wet sound. The romantic
Chapter 11: The Waltz of the Damned
The chariot ride was faster tonight, or perhaps Isolde’s perception of time was simply dissolving. Marius drove the obsidian stallions with a reckless grace, the carriage swaying as they ascended the hidden paths to Aethelred. Inside, Isolde sat in a daze, her hand tracing the velvet upholstery. She felt like a bride being delivered to a temple.When the doors opened, she didn't wait for Marius. she ran up the stairs to the "Chamber of Relics."The green fire was already roaring. On the mannequin sat a new gown, this one of heavy, blood-red velvet with sleeves that trailed like wings. It was lined with ermine and cinched with a belt of solid gold.She dressed with a feverish haste, her fingers fumbling with the laces. She didn't look in the mirror this time. She didn't want to see another memories fondling her brain this time.*************Aurelius was waiting in the Music Room, a circular chamber walled with mirrors and dark mahogany. A single instrument sat in the center, a harp
Chapter 10: The Silk Labyrinth
The return to the Corbul Negru felt like falling from a dream into a gutter. Marius dropped Isolde at the edge of the village just as the sky began to bleed a pale, sickly gray.She walked toward the inn with her head down, her fingers curled tightly around the sapphire necklace hidden beneath her heavy wool scarf. The stones were freezing, a jagged reminder of the waltz, the starlight, and the way Aurelius had looked at her as if she were a resurrected goddess.She slipped through the front door, the floorboards groaning under her boots. The air in the inn smelled of stale tobacco and woodsmoke, mundane and suffocating.In the safety of her room, Isolde carefully removed the necklace. She pressed the cold gems to her lips, her eyes closing as she tried to summon the phantom scent of incense and roses. She hid the jewelry deep in the lining of her suitcase, burying it under her field notes. As she lay in bed, the coarse linen sheets felt like sandpaper against skin that had spent th
Chapter Nine: The Ghost of the Bride
Isolde waited for the entire team to go to bed, then she slipped outside, the entire village was quiet.But why would she actually agree to meet this mysterious man, what if the Zimbrul Fomist attacked her? But curiosity already gotten the better of her.Nothing will stop her, and even though she wants to, there's something pulling her towards the castle.The mountain air was a razor against Isolde’s skin as she walked, but the cold couldn't stop the fire burning in her veins.She reached the trailhead, expecting the lonely silence of the woods. Instead, she found a scene pulled from a nightmare of royalty.In the center of the path stood a massive, high-backed chariot. It was carved from wood so dark it seemed to absorb the moonlight, adorned with silver filigree shaped like weeping vines.Two obsidian-black stallions stood at the front, their eyes glowing with a faint, milky luminescence, their hooves striking the frozen earth with a sound like muffled thunder.Standing by the
Chapter Eight: The Archaeologist Obsession
The near-death encounter with the wolves failed to scare Isolde out of the High Carpathians, instead, it solidified her strange, dangerous obsession.She spent the morning of the attack narrating to Ben, Leo and Maya, insisting the man she saw was the same man she saw in the castle, the night of the bonfire as well.Leo, however, was thrilled. "A physical encounter! She was saved by something real. This is not a ghost story anymore!"The person you have been seeing was actually a real person?? Alive and breathing!! Ben howledMarius brought this, earlier this morning, Leo pointed to a large, brittle map he had spread out on the Corbul Negru’s table, pointing at a small structure half a mile from the main castle ruin.“This is the only auxiliary structure labeled in the 17th-century texts, the Watcher’s Tower. It was supposedly the private archive and observation post for the Von Caerstein family, sealed after the catastrophe. If there’s uncensored history, it’s there.”Ben was liv
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