Dracula
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On that forgotten land, the Carpathian Mountains rose like black spines on the earth, tearing the sky into fragments in the gloomy twilight. I, Jonathan Harker, now stand in the shadow of the towering castle. As a legal practitioner, I have come to handle the property matters for its owner. I was greeted by a noblewoman in a deep red velvet gown, who introduced herself as "Dracula," a Countess of Transylvania. Never had anyone described to me such a chilling beauty: her skin pale as wax, her figure full and lush, her eyes lowered, and her crimson lips so striking they almost shocked the senses, glistening with a faint moisture as if she had just sipped fresh blood. "Welcome to my manor, Mr. Harker," she chuckled with an ancient accent. "Please, enjoy the tranquility here." When her cold fingers touched me, a chill ran up my veins and straight to my heart, making me shudder. It was not the warmth of a living person, but the chill of soil from deep within a grave. After the work was done, she insisted that I stay a few more days, claiming that certain legal details of the estate still needed to be finalized. But as days passed, I began to realize that there were no servants anywhere in the castle, and still lavish meals would appear out of nowhere late at night. What terrified me most was that when I tried to explore the boundaries of this castle, I found every gate to the outside world locked. Even when I climbed the tower in desperation to look beyond the walls, I only saw bottomless cliffs isolating the castle from the world. There was no way out here, save for the iron door bolted shut and the cliff that drops into the abyss. I once tried to send a letter to my fiancée Mina, but the Countess smiled and took it from me. The way she looked at me was like one might regard a canary in a cage. "Mr. Harker, the roads are treacherous at night. I would not want any misfortune to befall my guest." And so the castle became a luxurious cage. I never once saw the Countess eat, except at night. But whenever darkness fell, howls of wolves echoed from outside the windows, as if paying homage to her. I still remember the warning she left me on the night I arrived. "Mr. Harker, whatever happens, do not fall asleep in any room other than your bedroom. This castle has its own rules, and they are not kind to outsiders." Until that night, the anxiety of prolonged captivity and my desperate yearning to find an escape drove me to break the warning. I fell asleep in a dusty side hall. At the edge of a hazy nightmare, I saw them. Three youths of striking beauty approached me, their pale skin and crimson lips betraying their true nature. The blonde one leaned down and whispered to me: "You are mine..." I could feel the scent of sweet blood and decay on his breath. His fangs glimmered coldly in the moonlight, aimed straight at my neck. My body went rigid, as if gripped by an invisible hand, caught between terror and a perverse, intoxicating fascination. "Begone!" With a sharp command, the Countess emerged from the shadows. She seized the youth by the throat and hurled him against the wall as if he were a rag doll. "He is my guest!" she roared, her elegant mask shattering in an instant to reveal the predator beneath. "This man belongs to me!" "You always claim the finest prey for yourself, Mother..." The youth rose from the ground, a mixture of mockery and reverence curling at the corners of his mouth. She tossed a heavy sack from behind her, inside which something alive seemed to be writhing and emitting faint cries. I shut my eyes, not daring to witness the tragedy that would follow, only hearing the bone-chilling sounds of chewing and beast-like growls. At that moment, I finally understood that they were not human. The next morning, through eavesdropping, I learned that she had departed by carriage for the port, bound for London. This meant that only I remained in the castle with the three ravenous fiends. When night fell, they would surely break through the doors. I had no choice. I had to escape, even if it meant falling to my death over the cliff, it was still better than being devoured by those fiends. So I pushed open the tower window, revealing a thousand-foot abyss below. The only way out was to climb down the vertical cliff. I swung myself out, my fingers digging into the weathered stone cracks, my nails splitting and bleeding, staining the gray rock red. With every inch I descended, I was gambling with death. The fierce wind tried to tear me into the ravine, but my fear of those red eyes drove me onward. Finally, just as my strength was about to give out, I plunged into the cold, rushing river at the bottom of the ravine. Time piled up like layers of rotting leaves. Though I miraculously survived the icy river and spent weeks in a monastery in Budapest, returning to the civilized world weakened and terrified, the shadow had not lifted. Instead, it spread like a plague to London. It was a ghost ship, laden with death, crashing onto the shores of Whitby. It was Countess Dracula. She had come at last. She purchased a mansion in the city center, transforming into the deadliest poison in the mist, corrupting the city with a secretive and proud demeanor. The first victim was Mina's dear friend, Lucy. That girl who once shone like sunshine was now visibly withering. And Professor Abraham Van Helsing, as an expert specializing in the undead, his arrival confirmed our deepest fears. The elderly scholar's eyes gleamed with reason as he looked at the two tiny, pinprick red marks on Lucy's neck. He whispered with grave sorrow, "These are the devil's marks, the curse of the undead..." Every night, Lucy struggled in her nightmares. She spoke of a beautiful woman calling to her from the window, a voice like a siren's song, promising eternal life and beauty. But things didn't unfold as she wished. On that stormy night, we rushed into Lucy's room. The windows were flung wide open, white curtains dancing wildly in the wind. At her bedside, a tall dark figure was hunched over Lucy. It was her, Dracula. She turned her head, fresh blood staining her pale jaw and the lace on her chest. She smiled at us menacingly, with an unmistakable air of arrogance. "The taste of blood is so sweet. Why resist this gift?" With a flash of lightning, she transformed into thousands of bats, burst through the window, and vanished into the downpour. Lucy ultimately died, or rather, she became something else entirely. When we saw her again in the graveyard, Lucy was no longer the gentle girl we knew, but had become a seductive temptress, clutching kidnapped children she intended to feed upon. Professor Van Helsing could only drive a wooden stake through her heart with tears streaming down his face. That piercing scream still echoes in my nightmares. We became hunters, pursuing the most cunning of "beasts." Dracula possessed not only immense power but centuries of cunning. She used mist to conceal her whereabouts and tormented Mina with telepathy... Yes, my beloved was forced to drink her cursed blood. If she were not destroyed, Mina too would become one of the undead. We destroyed every coffin Dracula had in London, forcing this noble beast to flee back to her lair. It was a chase across continents, and finally, we returned once more to this cursed land: Transylvania. Winter had arrived in full force, with the Carpathian Mountains buried under heavy snow, and fierce winds carrying ice shards that cut into us like knives. Professor Van Helsing, our two companions, and I struggled forward through the blizzard, pursuing the carriage carrying Dracula's last coffin. A group of gypsies was escorting her, but even more terrifying were the wolves that followed. Their eerie green eyes flickered through the snowstorm like will-o'-the-wisps. "Hurry! The sun is about to set!" Professor Van Helsing shouted hoarsely. "If she lives until sunset, the night will grant her immense power, and none of us will survive!" Gunshots echoed fiercely through the canyon as we finally broke through the gypsies' defensive line and drove back the wolf pack with torches and silver bullets. At last, I leaped onto the speeding carriage and struggled with all my might to pry open the heavy coffin lid. Just as the last ray of sunset was about to be swallowed by the mountain peaks, the coffin lid was thrown open. Dracula lay there, heartbreakingly beautiful. Even in slumber, she radiated a suffocating majesty. Her face resembled a delicate porcelain doll, yet beneath those tightly closed eyes seemed to lurk a thousand years of loneliness and resentment. Mina screamed in agony nearby, the curse churning within her. I did not hesitate. The curved blade in my hand caught a glint of cold light as I drove it toward her heart. Dracula's eyes snapped open, and in that instant, the crimson fury and murderous intent that once burned within them vanished. In their place was an indescribable sense of release and profound sorrow. She gazed toward the sky, as if peering through the heavy clouds to glimpse the sunlight that may once have belonged to a human world centuries ago. "Is this... silence?" She let out a final, sighing whisper. As the sun fully set, her body began to crumble. The undead form that had once made this continent tremble disintegrated into countless tiny gray particles, like roses reduced to ash, scattering across the vast snowfields. In that swirling dust, I witnessed a phenomenon I still cannot explain, nor dare to officially record. Those particles did not settle with the wind, but rose upward, defying gravity, gathering into a brilliant spiral in midair. In that instant, the air seemed torn by an invisible force, forming a razor-thin rift. Through the shimmering ripples of strange light, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a sight I had never seen before. It was not a terrifying abyss, but a strange world with a violet sky and verdant forests. In that brief glimpse, I seemed to see the ashes coalesce once more, forming new shapes that fell toward that thriving land. But this vision vanished instantly. As the last speck of dust disappeared into the rift, everything returned to nothingness. The wind ceased, and Mina collapsed onto the snow. The red mark on her forehead gradually faded, and she finally regained the essence of humanity. The queen of the night had departed, her castle still standing on the cliff like a massive tombstone. The legend of the undead had come to an end. For her, this may have been death, or perhaps the beginning of another long journey. But in the quiet of the night, when fierce winds rattle the windows, I still think of those crimson eyes. Perhaps in some unknown world, she has found the peace that Transylvania never offered her.
Title
Sanguine Queen
Max ascension
Ascended 5★
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