My breath still rattled from running, the silver hairpin digging into my palm as I pressed myself against the wall of the corridor. The cold stone bit into my back, and my chest rose and fell with uneven gasps. The shadows of Thorn Manor stretched long and thin, curling across the floors and walls like living things. The sound of my own heartbeat echoed in my ears, mingling with faint creaks and groans of the old mansion.
Then I felt movement behind me—a tug, a force that yanked me sideways. My scream caught in my throat as I stumbled, arms flailing. The hand that gripped me was familiar, yet terrifying. My mind raced, panic clawing at every thought.
"Elara?" I croaked.
She fell into my arms, trembling, her breath ragged, her face pale and streaked with tears. Her clothes were torn, her gown stained with blood in places I didn't want to look at. She clutched me like a lifeline, shivering from both cold and fear.
I held her, trying to steady my own trembling. "What… what happened? Where did that creature come from? Elara… what's going on?"
Her body shook against mine as she buried her face into my shoulder. The words that came next were broken, desperate.
"It's him," she whispered. "Anthony… that thing… it's him."
My chest tightened. "What? How is that even possible?"
She pulled back, eyes wide with terror, staring at me as though I held the last bit of reason in the world. "He's cursed, Danise. That… that creature you saw attacking me—it's the master. Anthony. That's why he's gone so long, why no one knows when he will return. He… he takes a bride, and the curse demands blood. He will kill me, like the others. That's what this mansion is. That's what the brides are for."
My mind spun. Every fragment of the mansion's secrets clicked into place: the forbidden library, the book on supernatural creatures, the chamber of discarded gowns and jewels, the servants' whispers about rituals, the strange instructions to stay in our rooms at night. Every unexplained thing finally made sense. And yet, the horror of it crashed over me in waves I could barely withstand.
I stepped back, letting my hand brush against the wall for balance. My thoughts raced. "But… why here? Why us?"
Elara's lips trembled, and she lowered her gaze. "I don't know why we are chosen. All I know is that if he wants a bride… I'm already doomed. And you… you're his next."
My stomach churned. The realization was unbearable. I had felt invisible, like a shadow among shadows, and yet the curse had already marked me. And worse… the creature in the hall, the one I had narrowly escaped, was him. Anthony. Master of the house. The man whose beauty had struck me days ago. The man whose cold indifference had haunted my thoughts.
Everything I had feared about the mansion was true.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to think. "Then we can't stay here. We have to leave. Now."
Elara shook her head violently. "There's no leaving. The doors… the gates… every exit is sealed. You can't escape. Not from this place."
I clutched her hands, desperation burning my chest. "No! There has to be a way. There's always a way. I saw a broken window in one of the storage rooms—east side. You can get through it. You can escape."
Her eyes widened with a flicker of hope, then faltered. "And you?"
"I'll stay. I'll distract him," I said firmly. "You're the bride he's after. He won't notice me—not the way he notices you. Now go. Go before it's too late."
Her hands trembled against mine. "Danise… you can't know that. He's cursed… and powerful. You could die—"
I shook my head. "I don't care. You survive. That's what matters. Go."
She hesitated, lips quivering, eyes filled with terror and confusion. Then, with a small, shaky nod, she turned and ran toward the east wing. Her steps were uneven, but fast. I could hear the faint scrape of her gown as she vanished down the corridor.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. My legs ached, my chest burned, but the silver hairpin pressed into my palm gave me a shred of courage. I was alone now.
The grand hall awaited.
I stepped forward, forcing my feet to move through the twisting, shadow-filled corridors. Every creak of the floor, every whisper of wind against the windows made me flinch. The hairpin dug into my skin, a reminder of defiance and survival.
And then I saw it.
The creature.
It stood in the hall like a living shadow, perfectly still. Its shoulders rose and fell with deep, even breaths, and its head tilted slightly as though it had been expecting me. Those piercing silver-gray eyes met mine.
The air around me froze.
I could feel it before I could see it fully—an overwhelming presence, something not entirely human, and yet not completely alien. My instincts screamed for me to run, but my legs refused. I clutched the hairpin tightly, imagining the stories from the forbidden book, imagining that maybe, just maybe, this small shard of silver could give me some power.
The creature's head jerked slightly, and I noticed a subtle hesitation in its stance—as if it had not expected me to confront it, had not expected me to act with courage. My small act of defiance—throwing that candelabrum in the hall days ago—echoed now in the way it studied me. There was recognition. Awareness. Something almost… human.
I forced my legs to move, taking careful steps backward, keeping my eyes on the beast. Each step felt like a trap, each breath a countdown. My mind raced with thoughts of Elara, her frightened eyes, her trust in me. I couldn't fail her. I wouldn't.
Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the hall was empty. The creature was gone. Vanished. Only the lingering echo of its breathing remained, and the blood-stained floor where it had been moments before.
Relief and terror clashed violently in me. I didn't pause. I ran, darting down the corridors, slipping into shadowed alcoves, pressing myself against walls and pillars, trying to silence my breathing. Every corner I rounded could hide a threat. Every door I passed could conceal the creature's return.
Minutes passed—or hours, I couldn't tell. Time had lost meaning. The only thing that mattered was survival.
And then—
A hand shot out from the darkness, gripping my arm with unyielding force.
I gasped, my body jerked, and I felt myself being pulled violently into the shadows. My feet scraped against the stone, my skirts tangling around me, and my heart nearly stopped.
The hand was strong. Warm. Human—or at least, unmistakably aware.
"Who—" I choked, but no words came.
The darkness swallowed everything else.
All I could feel was the grip holding me, the icy manor walls around me, and the impossible knowledge that whatever awaited me in the shadows was something I had not bargained for.
And then the faintest whisper brushed against my ears: the weight of anticipation, of danger, of something both terrifying and… curious.
I realized in that instant—this was far from over.