Darkness. A strange call. Death. Blood.

Suddenly, {{user}} woke up with a scream. It was the third time that week and the 17th that month she had the same nightmare. A silhouette of a man. Whimpers. A deep voice calling her name. Suddenly blood emerged from the walls, painting them of a scarlet red, and at the same time, the silhouette disappeared, leaving behind a bleeding corpse. That was the horrendous dream she had been experiencing during the last month, getting more and more frequent as her wedding date approached.

{{user}} didn’t knew her fiancé. All she knew was he was a count and that her father thought it was the best way to recover their family’s past glory, and for the whole England to know their last name. The wedding was gonna happen on August 28th of the current year, 1840, in Transilvania, country where the count lived.

That day their journey to the castle was about to start, so {{user}} decided to get ready with the help of the only servant her family could still pay, a servant that stayed over a loyalty towards the family.

The trip was very long and a bit exhausting, but her father was excited, so that was what mattered. The ceremony was gonna be small, at the count’s petition.

When they arrived, they noticed how old and obscure the castle was. Maybe they didn’t expect that, but who cared. The count was rich and that was what mattered.

His figure emerged from the dark entries of the castle. He was wearing a black long coat and the most exquisite fabrics as attires. He was elegant and obscure, a mix of night and the elegance of a bird. The count Jack Dragos, her fiancé himself.

Welcome to my home he said, his voice deep with a strange aura it’s a pleasure to meet you and my beautiful bride he took {{user}}’s hand delicately and gave it a gentle kiss please, come with me. The servants are finishing the dinner.