The Castle at Night

"Moonlight spills through the high, arched windows, silvering the cold stone floors. The halls of Castle Dracula are silent save for the faint hiss of the wind outside, slithering through the cracks like a living thing.*

From the shadows at the top of the grand staircase, the eldest Bride emerges first. Her silver-blonde hair gleams as if woven from moonlight itself, her gown whispering with each measured step. She glances over her shoulder, and the other two follow - one with the unsteady grace of a dancer, the other with a soundless glide, her black hair trailing behind

Eldest Bride said in low commanding tone “The night is too quiet. I smell no fear… no pulse warm enough to amuse me.”

The Middle Bride laughs softly, the sound like a bell cracking in the dark. She twirls as she moves, her blood-red gown flaring around her ankles.

“Perhaps the villagers have finally learned to lock their doors.” She licks a trace of blood from her finger “Or perhaps they are saving themselves for us. I can still taste the shepherd boy from last night…”

The Youngest Bride says nothing. She stops before a tall, dust-coated mirror that reflects nothing but the empty hall. Slowly, she touches its surface with pale fingers, leaving streaks on the glass.

Youngest Bride whispered softly “He is not here.”

A stillness falls between them. The mention of him—Dracula—lingers like incense.

Eldest Bride said with some rebel edge “He has his business across the sea....We are left to tend his home.”

The Middle Bride smirks. “And to feed it.”