The chill was bone-chilling, colder than any night you've ever had. You open your eyes, your eyes are blurry. Your last memory is of your car tires popping out on a deserted mountain road, then darkness.
Now, you wake up in the middle of a trail covered in light snow. All around you, rickety old houses, built of dark wood and stone, stand frozen under the gray twilight sky. There is no sound. There are no footprints other than your own.
"Where is this?" you whispered, your breath instantly freezing in the air.
You start walking through the narrow alleys of the village. There was a strange smell floating around—a mixture of old blood, animal fur, and wet soil. That's when you realize: all the doors of the house are locked tightly, and the windows are boarded from the inside. It feels like the people here are hiding from something... or someone.
Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings rang out from a distance. You look up and see a large crow perched on the roof of an ancient church. The bird looks at you with fiery red eyes, then makes a hoarse sound that sounds like mocking laughter.
Fear begins to creep up your back. You have to find shelter. Your eyes are fixed on a large iron gate that stands at the end of the village, towering high on a hill. Behind the gate, a majestic Gothic-style castle stood upright, dominating the view. Dimitrescu Castle.
"Maybe there's someone there who can help," you think, even though your instincts are screaming for you to run in the opposite direction.
Me : Trying to sneak into one of the residents' houses that looked badly damaged to hide. (Sounds safer, but what's in it?)
You decide not to take risks on the open streets. With trembling steps, you approach a wooden house whose roof is tilted and the door is half destroyed. You sneak in, avoiding the creaking of the fragile wooden floor.
Inside, the atmosphere is suffocating. The smell of musty and fresh blood rushed out. A thin moonlight penetrated the crevices of the boards, shining on the dining table that still left the plates broken.
Suddenly, you heard the voice of "Srak... "..." from the kitchen.
Not a human voice. It was the sound of something sharp rubbing against the wood. You hold your breath, hiding behind a dusty old closet. From behind the shadows, appeared a hunched creature with pale grayish skin, holding a rusty sickle. A Moroaica. He sniffed the air, as if he smelled the presence of "fresh meat" that had just entered.
Your heart is pounding. If you make even the slightest noise, the creature will lunge. However, in the corner of the room near the broken window, you see an iron crowbar lying on the floor.
Me : Stay silent sculpting, hoping that the creature would go to another room.
You hold your breath as hard as you can, until your chest feels tight. You sculpt behind a dusty old wooden cabinet, closing your eyes and praying that your loud heartbeat will not be heard by the creature.
Srak... Srak... Scream!
The pale creature dragged its rusty sickle over the kitchen stone floor. It stops right in front of the closet where you're hiding. The stench of his withered body pierces your nose—the smell of death. He let out a low growl, a kind of terrible hoarse squeal, then sniffed the air greedily.
A moment of silence that felt like forever.
Fortunately, a strong wind suddenly hit the broken front door, making a loud banging sound. The creature's attention was distracted. With a broken motion, the Moroaica turns around and walks towards the sound source at the front door, away from you.
This is your chance. While the creature is busy checking the door, you see a gap to move around. However, just as you're about to shift, your eyes catch something glittering on a wooden table near you: an ancient key with silver wing ornaments.
At the same time, from outside the window, you heard the sound of a woman laughing high and melodious, but sounding bloodthirsty.
"Sister, look... there are fresh footprints in the snow," the voice came from one of Lady Dimitrescu's daughters who may have been patrolling the village.
Me : Stay silent in the hiding place, hoping that the daughters would not enter this house.
Very careful choice. You keep sculpting, pressing your back against the dusty wooden cabinet until the wood fibers pierce your jacket. You even cover your mouth with your hands so that the roar of your hunting breath is not heard.
Outside, the sound of laughter was getting closer. Srak... Srak... Thousands of tiny flapping of wings sounded like a storm of insects landing on the roofs of houses.
"Daniela, you're always imagining," another woman's voice sounded, colder and calmer. It must be Bela, the eldest sister. "Maybe it's just a hungry wolf."
"But the smell... The smell of warm human blood, Bela. I can feel it," said the voice earlier, Daniela, in a bloodthirsty tone that made your hair stand up.
The wooden floor in front of the house creaked violently. Dark shadows appeared in the cracks of the broken door. You see a swarm of black flies starting to enter through the vents, gathering to form a pale human hand on the doorstep.
Suddenly, the Moroaica creature that was eyeing you let out a snarling sound of fear. He tried to crawl away, but it was too late.
"Srekkk!"
A huge scythe slashed the unfortunate creature's neck in one swift motion. Moroaica's body collapsed, and you could hear a terrible sucking sound. The princesses are "eating".
"Ck, it's just this old garbage," Daniela complained disappointed. "Let's go, Mom is already waiting for us at the castle for the actual dinner."
The sound of the flapping of wings moved away again, leaving a gripping silence in the house. You're safe... for now. But you know, they won't be far from this village.
Just as you begin to feel relieved, you realize something: The winged silver key that was on the table has now fallen to the floor right in front of your feet from the vibration.