𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑
𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

The townspeople jittered with nervousness as crowds of people erupted from their homes, standing around the very podium I had seen yesterday. Children clung to their mother's dresses, husbands hugged their wives, and parents shielded their babies' eyes.

The wooden table, now an instrument of the dead, loomed beside the podium. I gazed at the ropes tied on the sides by metal shackles. Golden loops were secured in place where your ankles and wrists would slide underneath.

The intricate designs seemed almost mocking, a display of craftsmanship in service to a dark purpose. I shivered as I thought about the last sacrifice. I was only 6 but my god...it was torture to witness.

The memory flashed in my mind- the terrified eyes of the older man- he could've been in his 50s or 60s yet his older age couldn't hide his desperate pleas for mercy.

I had hid behind my mother's old apron yet nothing could block out the piercing screams from him. His deep voice clamored with agony as he scrambled around under the chains of the ceremony. He's dead now.

I gaped as I saw a man step up onto the stand. His leather boots hammered against the wood as his long black coat flowed in the wind. The fabric was light and airy, covered in silver dottings of thorns and roses. The man's gaze swept over the crowd, he licked his lips as he began to talk.

"Quiet!" His voice bellowed across the square. His hand slowly reached into a hidden pocket within his coat, producing a small, ornate box.

The delicate object seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, its patterns catching the light of the setting sun. As he opened it, it revealed slips of paper bearing the names of potential sacrifices, an icy feeling seeped through my veins.

The raffle, a twisted lottery of fate, was about to begin. The man's gloved hand hovered over the slips, and with a deliberate motion, he selected one.

The paper seemed to dance in the wind for a moment before landing in his grasp. As he unfolded it, the hushed expectancy of the crowd intensified.

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched, my breath caught in my throat. The man's eyes scanned the name, and for a fleeting moment, our gazes locked.

No. No please no. Visions of my young fleeting body in a blue ball gown rang through me. My big blue eyes pleading. Tears escaping me. It can't be.

The man's lips parted as he read aloud, "Anastasia." The syllables hung in the air, reverberating through the square. Gasps and murmurs swept through the onlookers, and I felt the weight of their collective gaze turning toward me.

My heart thundered in my chest, the beating of my chest pulled down into the pit up my stomach.

My mind succumbed to an empty feeling, my body and soul ripping apart and building itself up again like waves of molten lava.

The world seemed to blur as I was roughly grabbed and pulled forward, my feet stumbling against the wooden surface of the podium.

The chains clinked as they were fastened around my wrists and ankles, the cold metal biting into my flesh.

Desperation clawed at my throat as I screamed for my parents, my voice drowned out by the collective gasps and sobs of the townspeople.

Through tearful eyes, I sought out my little brother in the crowd, his innocent eyes wide with terror. Tears blurred my vision as men quickly started to undress me, shoving a blue-tattered gown over my figure. They buckled me under the chains.

"N-no please no!" I cried. But they all stood there, mouths agape as they fumbled as my mother had dropped down to her knees. Her hands clasped together as she began to mumble words under her breath, her eyebrows crinkled together.

Men with stern expressions approached the podium, their faces a mask of solemn duty. They exchanged hushed words, glancing at me with a mix of pity and remorse.

"What the hell is this...?" I watched as they pulled an old paper from my old linen pants. Crap I forgot about the map! This must've been where I put it in before. God...how could I be so stupid? The men contorted with anger, suspicion darkening their features.

Whispers of betrayal hissed through the crowd as the news spread like wildfire, each word like a damning verdict.

The atmosphere shifted from one of reluctant acceptance to an outright condemnation. A collective gasp swept through the crowd, followed by a low murmur that crescendoed into a chorus of accusations.

"You're one of them!" someone shouted, their voice cutting through the night air like a blade. The crowds began to cheer around me, shaking the ground below.

"Burn her alive!"

"Stake her heart!"

"Slit her by the throat!"

The cries of the crowd circled around me, suffocating me with their cacophony of hatred. Their sea of faces was contorted with a thirst for death. Flames danced in their eyes, fueled by centuries worth of fear. Drawn by a monster of stories, a charming booth of foreseen sins.

Bound by heavy metal chains, I stood in the center of the silted area, my gaze was locked on the sand. I watched their torches spark up the closer it got to me, its fire begging for a taste of my blood.

My feet were barely able to move as I gazed at the tight rope cutting my circulation. I could only imagine the veins on my face popping out like a burn against my skin as the chains bit into my neck.

Accusations continued to rain down upon me, I closed my eyes attempting to escape their defiling. This wasn't my choice. I didn't ask for this.

Darkness encircled me as images flushed past me, myths...legends, of a bloodthirsty creature—a man, nonetheless, who had driven my village to insanity once more.

The chains clinked as they dragged me toward the edge of the forest, The townspeople, fueled by fear, were convinced that I was one of them.

The murmurs of the crowd seemed to meld together. I stumbled and faltered as they forced me to run into the forest, each step taking me further away from the life I had once known.

My breaths came in ragged gasps, and my heart pounded against my chest."Go on now, or we'll release them into the woods with you." I looked down as their hands slowly reached out like sharp knives, the metal twinkled under the stars, teasing me with a promise of death.

I watched as they dropped the map to the floor, pressing it deep into the ground.

I slowly looked back, my eyes wide like a deer in headlights. "Goodbye, Liam. Goodbye mother. Goodbye father. " I mumbled.

It was one final goodbye before I quickly ran before to grab the map, hands grasping my waist as torches almost flamed my hair.

I shoved them away, running farther and farther away from the mobs.

The deeper I got into the woods, the odd warmth sensation of my necklace seemed to grow harsher, hotter, and more dangerous leaving a bruise against my alabaster skin.

Each step carried a weight, as if the pendant sensed the approaching convergence of the living and dead. My heart quickened its pace in tandem with my steps, the anticipation of the unknown tightening its grip on my senses.

As I finally stepped into the woods, memories stirred like dormant spirits, eager to break free from the shackles of time.

Unfamiliar images flickered at the edge of my consciousness. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the energy of the new realm.

As I passed by the olden trees, the gorey images of the trunks transformed and turned into graying moss and crackling branches. Their crooked smiles gazed at me, as if welcoming me to the world that lay beyond.

    "What the hell..." I whispered. The map in my hands pulsed with an otherworldly light, guiding me through the labyrinthine twists and turns of the woodland path.

The crunch of the leaves beneath my feet seemed to harmonize with the distant groveling of the spirits. Their voices weave a haunting melody, similar to the one I had heard ten years ago. The map, now a radiant guide, led me to a clearing bathed in the soft glow of the moon.

I watched the map slowly glow brighter and brighter, a crystal golden hue glossed over the paper as it transformed into new. The muddled and tattered page sewed back together as if a day hadn't gone by since it was first made.

The gold melted into the page, completely pure liquid gold dripped from my fingers into the ground. I watched with horror as the chains around my hands twisted tightly together before bunching up and falling to the ground.

The map was gone. I was free. And there was no portal in sight.

"No- this can't be it! This couldn't have all been for nothing!" I ran my hands through my hair. Frustration seized me as I flipped a heel off my foot, chucking it into the field before it whipped right back hitting me right in the face.

"What the hell," I muttered, as I stood there, one shoe on and one shoe off. Was this some sort of joke? Despite my irritation, a reluctant chuckle escaped my lips.

With a resigned sigh, I retrieved the rebellious slipper, placing it back onto my foot. Perhaps there was more to this than meets the eye.

Looking back at the ground, I picked up one of the broken sticks flinging it into the air. Again the stick flung back around but this time it was as if I had broken the universe itself as a crack of lightning split the air open.

The portal was there, it was just hidden in plain sight. But why could I see it as a young child but now I can't?

I slowly stepped towards the opening, gently putting my arm in first watching my hand as it began to glitter, transforming into something crystallized.

As if my skin had been dipped in silver paint. I watched mesmerized as the silver started seeping upwards towards my shoulder as I proceeded to step my foot into the dome.

    The transition through the portal was like stepping into a lucid dream.

As my body crossed the threshold, the world around me shifted and blurred and suddenly I found myself standing on the other side, facing the grandeur of the palace. Its black facade glistened with an otherworldly essence, a surreal dance of gold and silver that painted the very air.

    The ghosts outside moved with an elegance that spoke of Renaissance prime. Their Victorian gowns, though visually aging, seemed to blend in with waltz in a never-ending dance.

Their faces were untouched by time, a boring witness to the timeless celebration through the palace. Their footsteps were in sync as they danced to the hymns of the violin and piano playing gently in the background.

In the midst of dance, my eyes were drawn to a figure that stood out from the rest. A body stepped around gracefully, only to abruptly stop and clutch its neck.

I gasped as I witnessed the horrifying spectacle unfold. The figure's hand tightened, and with a sickening twist, the head snapped to the side, permanently tilted like a broken puppet.

The shock of the scene propelled me into the castle's entrance, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Alone in the dimly lit corridor, I couldn't shake the haunting image from my mind. Gathering my courage, I approached one of the ghostly figures and stammered, "What the hell was that outside?"

The ghostly visage turned toward me, its features frozen in a perpetual mask of serenity. The echo of its voice reverberated in the empty air, "A reminder of the cost of this eternal celebration. Some are trapped in their final moments, reliving the agony of their death."

As the words lingered, I shuddered, realizing the eerie reality that awaited me within the confines of the castle.

Living souls mingled with the spectral dances, their faces mirroring the ethereal glow that now covered my hand. I could only assume that I looked the same.

The air buzzed with the music, their fast-paced sequence filling the air with tension. I watched as the women's gowns brushed the ground as the men held their waists swaying to the soft melodies.

Their gazes were soft, not a day in their eyes had gone by in which their love was lost. I couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty of the scene, the delicate balance between the ephemeral and the enduring.

I carefully made my way across the room, my heels click-clacking across the flooring, but not before I managed to bump into another figure. The dimly lit light of the chandeliers revealed a man.

He wore a Victorian overcoat that hung neatly across his slim build. The etchings of velvet thread created weavings of intricate designs. His eyes, though I won't ever forget, were a clear translucent white, holding a strange emptiness that aged him 10 years despite his youthful face.

The wine in his glass slightly slipped over the edge as he turned to look at me.

"Gosh I'm so sorry, excuse me," I mumbled, trying to sidestep the distraction he posed.
He flashed a disarming smile, his attempt at charm more of an intrusion than a welcome. "My apologies. I couldn't help but take notice of your beauty from across the room."

I snorted at the aged line. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Save the lines. I'm not here for small talk. Listen I really really need to-"

"-go," He finished my sentence, his dead pupils fixed on me. "You're not the first to say that. But you see, we're all trapped in this dance, aren't we?"

"Trapped?" I questioned, my gaze narrowing at the unsettling emptiness in his eyes.

"Trapped between worlds, between moments", he continued, his voice taking on a haunting cadence. "We dance and we dance, but do we ever truly move forward?" My necklace grew hotter after his words, the warmth spreading through my cold skin. I hadn't even noticed that I'd been freezing.

I tried to pull away, the strange encounter sending a wave of discomfort through me. "Look, I don't have time for this pondering- wait- what happened to you?!" I questioned, my eyes instinctively drawn to the wound in his chest, a giant piece of his flesh missing, blood dripping down from his torso.

For some reason I hadn't noticed it before, it was as if it had been hiding from me, shadowed away.

The man, seemingly unfazed, regarded with a grin as if the gaping wound hadn't even bothered him. "Why concern yourself with my past, my dear? Just revel in the festivities. We're all here to enjoy ourselves," He replied dismissively, as if my inquiry was inconsequential. Okay, that is NOT normal.

"What happened to you...answer. me. " I grabbed his shoulders, my eyes widened with fear. But the man in front of me just tilted his head. His mouth curving upward showing a row of sharp teeth.

What the hell...I quickly tore my hands off of him. He began to chant in a language both eerie and unworldly. His pupils started to dilate backward, becoming smaller and smaller, the whites in his eyes only becoming larger, brighter.

A woman from behind bumped into me causing the man to spill his wine into me. The red liquid oozed onto my blue dress, turning it into a muddled purple color. He quickly shook his head, shaking out of his trance.

"Oh dear! I am terribly sorry!" The woman exclaimed, her voice a mix of concern and embarrassment. As she began to smile a chunk of her cheek slipped off her mouth.

The flesh slopped onto the ground as another couple stepped on it, gliding the blood across the gold room. Something wasn't right. At. All.

"It's fine, really," I replied, my voice restrained as I tried not to gawk at the sight. The dress wasn't really a bother, I didn't have anyone to impress but as I glanced down at the strained dress, frustration crept in.

You just saw a woman with her face torn off, your dress is gonna be fine.

"Great. Now I really need to go. Nice chat Shakespeare, but a lady's gotta get out of here." I quipped, attempting to diffuse the odd tension that lingered between us.

He chuckled, a hollow sound that sent a chill down my spine. "In this timeless realm, there's no need to rush. But if you must depart, I truly hope to see your face again." His words were cryptic, as if reciting an old passage, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this encounter than met the eye.

Nevertheless, I nodded and continued through the grand ballroom. The music swelled, carrying me deeper into the heart of the haunting celebration.

As I made my way to the end of the ballroom, I took note of a wide mirror beside, my eyes widening at my reflection.

As I stood before the wide mirror at the end of the ballroom, my eyes were drawn to the exquisite details of the Victorian dress that draped over my form.

The gown, a symphony of rich burgundy and midnight black, cascaded in elegant layers, each one adorned with delicate lace and intricate embroidery.

The bodice hugged my figure, accentuating the curves in a manner that echoed the refinement of a bygone era.

The sleeves, billowing and adorned with lace cuffs, added an air of timeless grace to the ensemble. Every stitch seemed to tell a story of craftsmanship from a different age, a narrative woven into the very fabric that adorned me. The skirt flowed gracefully around me as I moved, its layers whispering tales of sophistication.

My hair, once a simple and modern arrangement, now embraced a Victorian elegance. Delicate curls framed my face, reminiscent of a time when such meticulous styling was a hallmark of societal norms. The strands held a certain softness, an echo of the past that harmonized with the gown's timeless allure.

In the reflection, I saw a convergence of eras—the classic silhouette of Victorian fashion seamlessly blended with the familiarity of my own features. It was a visual paradox, a collision of temporal aesthetics that created a unique and enchanting image in the ornate mirror.

As I marveled at my altered appearance, the distant murmur of conversations reached me.

Two women, their words laden with concern and warning, spoke of a mortal girl trespassing the castle. As I stared closer to the woman, her hand, or what remained of it, dangled, the sinews and tendons barely keeping the severed limb connected.

Fragments of torn flesh clung desperately to the exposed bones. A shudder ran down my spine as I observed her movements.

Despite the ghastly state of her appendage, she continued to move gracefully through the space. My necklace grew hotter as I stared at her friend next to her. She was even more frightening.

Half her face had been violently torn away, leaving behind a nightmarish void where features should have been.

The exposed skeletal structure, draped in tattered shreds presented a forever haunting image. The exposed eye socket, bereft of its natural covering, stared into the unseen abyss with an unsettling emptiness.

Strands of hair clung to the remnants of her skull. And yet they all barely take notice. Not even the living.

"Did you hear, Emily? A mortal girl has dared to set foot in our realm. This is not permitted. Consequences will be severe I hear," whispered the one with the damaged hand.

"Aren't mortals allowed in the proximity of the castle Catherine" replied the other, her voice carrying a heavy weight.

"Only mortals that have been accounted for, this one snuck in on her own. Oh dear I heard she is young too, only 18. You can only imagine the horrors that girl will go through from him." Oh crap. I was too shaken to listen to the rest of the conversation.

My fingernails dug into my skin, causing my palms to bleed. Panic gripped my entire body, and I realized their words were directed at none other than me. In this realm, I was an intruder. An outsider. I'm so dead.

The haunting strains of the violin intensified, each note reverberating through the air with a slow cadence. It was a familiar melody from the echoes of my childhood.

Which only meant one thing. He was preparing to make his entrance.
I watched as the audience simmered with anticipation.

With cautious steps, I retreated behind the heavy curtain, its rich fabric concealing me from the watchful eyes of the visitors.

The world around me seemed to move in languid motion as if time itself had succumbed to even him. Each moment stretched on as I braced myself for his encounter.

My heart pummeled as I heard the door slowly open, a loud thundering bolt echoed throughout as the board hit the walls of the palace.

The hinges groaned, protesting against the old doors. My feet shook beneath my feet, my legs barely able to keep me upward. I gripped my necklace as it seared through my skin, blood dripping down my neck.

The pendant had managed to slice through my skin. God why is it doing this...
Through the gap in the curtain, I caught a glimpse of him.

He entered with a regal grace that seemed to defy the constraints of the mortal world. His presence commanded the attention of every figure in the ballroom.

He wore an attire befitting his mysterious aura, a cloak of shadows that billowed him as if carried by wind. The silver mask on his face concealed him, leaving only his piercing eyes visible.

His black hair neatly framed his face, a curl tussled in front of his eye. His height looms over the tall crowds of people. This was him alright

Word count: 3768

Let me know what you think! <333
𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭!

Follow me on Instagram for updates!
@moonxttea