2025-12-12 18:48:58The moment Isolde stumbled out of the Great Hall, her hands over her eyes, the sheer terror radiating off her was palpable. She didn't have to utter a word to signal the danger.
Maya, whose nerves were already shattered by the attack of the Zimbrul Fomist earlier that day, waited for no one. Seeing Isolde’s face was enough. She abandoned the tripod she was holding and raced down the slope to the parked minivan, wrenching the door open and diving inside.
“Marius! Go! We are leaving!” Maya shrieked from the passenger seat, her hands trembling as she fumbled for her seatbelt.
Marius, who had been guarding the perimeter, moved quickly. He packed up the remaining gear with practiced efficiency, throwing the bags into the trunk before jumping into the driver's seat. Isolde scrambled into the back, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Ben hopped in after.
The minivan tore away from the castle gates, bouncing violently down the treacherous King's Road.
**********
The chaotic journey couldn't distract Isolde from the image burned into her mind. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white.
"It was..... a ghost," Isolde whispered, her voice shaking. "A... A man.
No...no... it's not a ghost... it's aura depict breathing presence."
"What did you see, Isolde?" Ben asked from the seat beside her, looking back at the shrinking silhouette of the black spire.
"He was..... Isolde trailed off .
"He was incredibly handsome, high, sculpted cheekbones, blonde hair, like a medieval prince from a painting. But his eyes... they were gold mixed with ice. He looked at me with such sad eyes
He didn't speak, but I felt him inside my head."
Marius listened silently from the driver's seat, his eyes fixed on the winding road. He had never looked upon Aurelius's face the legends his family guarded only spoke of the name and the wrath.
Hearing Isolde describe the King's features with such vivid, terrified precision sent a shiver of dark recognition through him.
History never recorded a painting of him, Just tales from people who knew the kind hearted prince
They spoke of him, and how noble his features looked like. And Isolde description matched exactly!
*********
They drove straight to the regional hospital to check on Leo. He was awake, his shoulder heavily bandaged, listening to Isolde’s frantic description with wide, feverish eyes.
"High cheekbones? Gold eyes?" Leo whispered, sitting up despite the pain.
And you’re sure that's not your imagination??
What?! Leo! I'm not crazy! Isolde yelled
Leo i believe her, remember we are also attacked by a demon! If not for Marius knowledge about the beast we'd practically be tagged crazy. Maya defended Isolde
"We'll.... this is getting interesting, we search deeper then, remember he practiced necromancy.
We might find something history itself never mentioned. We can't leave." Leo said
"I can't go back there, Leo," Isolde said, shaking her head.
"He looked at me like he... recognized me. Like he was claiming me."
"We aren't leaving," Leo said stubbornly. "I'll take the painkillers. I'll take the risk. We stay in the village. We regroup."
You guys never wanted this in the first place! I practically begged you guys to just scan the castle one time, why are you pushing this? Isolde asked
Remember your words that night? You said one step.....
Well we took that step and discovered something that could change our career forever. Are you just gonna throw them away? Leo asked
But still we could as well be endangering our lives, there's actually a real demon guarding the castle Leo! Maya chipped in
Well you returned unharmed, as long as we follow Marius lead, trust me we are fine. Leo protested.
Ben sighed heavily.......
Marius stepped forward, his face a mask of concern. "You need rest. Go back to the Corbul Negru.
I need to return to the trailhead to retrieve the thermal sensor Maya dropped. You guys said It is an expensive equipment. I will go alone. it will be faster."
Exhausted and terrified, the team agreed. Ben and Maya drove Isolde back to the inn. As soon as they were out of sight, Marius climbed into his own rugged jeep. He did not drive to the trailhead.
He turned the vehicle back toward the mountain, driving into the deepening night.
************
Marius parked his jeep in the deep shadows of
the forest below the castle walls. He did not approach the main gate where the tourists and scholars entered. Instead, he walked to a section of the wall obscured by centuries of thick, black ivy.
He pressed his hand against a specific stone, whispering a phrase in Romania. A narrow, hidden door grated open.
Marius stepped into the servant tunnels, the air instantly turning freezing cold. He walked with the confidence of a man who knows he is home.
His family had not just lived in the village, they had served the House Von Caerstein for generations, believing that the "Tyrant" was the only true King of the Carpathians, protecting his solitude until the curse could be broken.
He emerged into the King's private study, a room untouched by the ash that coated the rest of the castle.
Aurelius stood by the unlit fireplace, his back to the door. He was still, like a statue carved from obsidian.
“She saw you, my King,” Marius said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head low. “She is terrified. But she described your face to them. She saw you clearly.”
Aurelius turned slowly. In the gloom, his golden eyes burned with a terrifying, predatory light.
“She saw me because I allowed it,” Aurelius’s voice was like crushing ice. “Maria....”
“Yes, my King,” Marius replied, daring to look up. “I told you she was the one. Her features match exactly the Princess portrait in your chambers. The likeness is... unsettling.”
Aurelius walked past Marius, looking toward the window that overlooked the valley where Isolde inn is situated. A rare, cold smile touched his lips.
“You have done well, Marius. Your bloodline has been faithful when all others fled. You have brought the happiness I was longing right to my doorstep.”
He lifted a hand, and the shadows in the room seemed to dance in anticipation.
“I thank you for finding me my beloved. Prepare the castle.....
Soon, the cold will not be lonely anymore.”
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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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