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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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