Chapter Twelve: The Journey
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The carriages rolled out slowly, their wheels creaking as the horses' hooves tapped against the cobbled road. Torchlight flickered in the night, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and writhe, as if alive. The sound of hooves echoed sharply in the air—a steady, rhythmic beat that was drowned only by the whispering winds through the trees. The world around them was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of branches and the soft sigh of the night.
Eva sat quietly in the coach, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She stole a glance through the window, watching the mist curling around the trees, their shapes barely visible in the haze. The journey had begun with an unnerving stillness, the kind that only the dead of night could bring. It felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something. And perhaps it was, for everything that followed felt like a prelude to something darker.
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A distant howl shattered the silence, its mournful cry slicing through the still air. Eva flinched, her pulse quickening, her heart caught in her throat. The air smelled faintly of wet earth and pine, a scent that momentarily reminded her of her old pack, of a time before the blood and betrayal. A fleeting image flashed in her mind—a memory of fur and family—before the fog closed in again, swallowing it whole.
She shuddered, shaking off the cold, creeping sensation that tried to take root in her chest. Her hand instinctively went to her neck, where her old pack's mark had once been.
The world beyond the window seemed to hold its breath, and the oppressive silence settled in around them once again. As the coaches pressed on, the fog thickened, and Eva's gaze grew unfocused, watching the shadows blur past them. Something stirred in the distance—quick, silent, wild.
She squinted, trying to make sense of the movements that darted in and out of the trees. In the distance, a figure paused, its form so still it was almost unnatural. With an inhuman grace, it bent down, its lips curling around something small. Blood. The dark red liquid stained the pale mouth of the vampire as it fed, eyes closed in pleasure.
Eva's stomach lurched, but she couldn't tear her gaze away. Another vampire sped by, trailing blood from its mouth, its speed a blur against the night. It was as though they were creatures of hunger, moving as shadows, feeding on whatever they could find.
Eva couldn't shake the feeling that something worse lingered just beneath the surface.
Inside the coach, the atmosphere was tense in its own way. Mira sat across from Eva, her gaze distant, her lips pressed into a faint, wistful smile. She attempted to lighten the mood with a few jokes, but they felt hollow against the night's oppressive weight.
"At least we're not walking, eh?" Mira tried, though her voice wavered. "Imagine trudging through all this fog... I'd much rather be in here with the horses."
Eva managed a weak smile but didn't respond. It was hard to find humor when the air itself seemed thick with dread.
Lira, seated beside the window, didn't respond at all. She had her attention fixed on a small object she was turning over in her hands. A blade? A nail file? Eva couldn't tell, but the sound of something sharp being honed sent a quiet shiver down her spine.
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Lira's eyes flicked toward Eva once, before narrowing, as though measuring her in some silent way. Eva quickly looked away, unable to shake the feeling of being studied.
For a moment, all that could be heard was the rumbling of the wheels beneath them and the occasional rattle of the horses' harnesses outside. The air inside the coach seemed to grow colder, thick with the unspoken words of those inside it.
As the hours passed and the convoy pressed on, the fog began to thicken, and the air grew colder still. The sound of wheels and hooves reverberated through the air, but something else was creeping in—dread. As they neared the Duke's lands, the distant glow of lanterns flickered, barely cutting through the dense fog. The carriages slowed, the rhythm of the convoy's march interrupted only by the distant whispers of wind.
From roads that twisted like veins in the night, other carriages began to emerge—more lavish than their own, their banners fluttering in the wind. They were almost unrecognizable at first, cloaked in mist and darkness, until their forms solidified. They were heavy with the weight of nobility.
The air, already oppressive, grew even heavier. This was not a friendly procession. There were no excited greetings or welcoming smiles—just the cold, calculated presence of those who had come to fulfill their duty.
The nobility was on the move, and the air seemed to hum with an unspoken tension. Eva could feel it in her bones—the eyes of the nobility were never kind to someone like her, a servant with no title, no purpose beyond that of a tool for those more important. But she could feel it in the oppressive quiet—this was no ordinary journey.
After what seemed like an eternity, the dark silhouette of the Duke's Manor finally appeared through the fog. The sight made Eva's breath catch in her throat. Black spires shot up into the sky, their jagged edges resembling the fangs of some ancient creature waiting for prey. Statues perched atop the looming towers, their grotesque faces twisted in silent mockery of life.
The manor was alive with light, but the light did little to quell the eerie sensation that settled over her. It was as though the building itself was watching, its every stone and pillar aware of their arrival.
The horses slowed further as they drew closer to the gates, and Eva swallowed hard, unsure if it was from fear or the chill that had wrapped itself around her.
The Duke's home was more than just a residence—it was a symbol. It loomed in a way that felt wrong. She had never felt more like an intruder in her life.
As they came to a stop at the manor's gates, an unsettling silence hung in the air. The faintest sound reached Eva's ears—a noblewoman's laughter—distant and eerie. It echoed, but there was no one to be seen. Eva's heart raced, and she quickly scanned the trees, her eyes darting through the mist. But there was nothing.
Then, in the distance, two glowing eyes appeared in the dark, staring unblinking from the tree line. They glowed with an unnatural light—predatory, cold. Eva froze, staring back at them. She blinked once, twice, and when her eyes opened again, the eyes were gone.
Something was wrong with this place. Eva felt it deep in her gut.
"We've stepped into a place that doesn't sleep," she thought, the weight of it pressing down on her chest. And as the carriages came to a final halt, the uneasy feeling deepened. Whatever awaited them inside this place, it wasn't just the night that had been watching them.