Alexandra. Beginning

Prologue

The day promised to be warm. The early morning sky was clear and the fine dew had not yet fallen from the thick green that covered the ground.

Her gaze fell on the dirty hem of her favourite aquamarine dress, with its silver pattern. She often wore it to dinner when she wanted to appease her mother. She had worn it that night too, when she had fled her home after a prolonged argument that all the servants seemed to hear, leaving her former life and her past self trapped in a large, beautiful room: chic but soulless.

Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered rushing through the forest with her lover, hoping that her parents would not soon miss her. And the unknown lay ahead.

And now, a few days after her escape, she stands on the doorstep of a tall, half-rotten hut: her temporary shelter on the way to her new home. But why shouldn't she be happy to have her beloved with her at last? After all, they have a bright future ahead of them, a future she has dreamed of ever since she saw him, a young man with long blond hair and bright eyes, walking in the garden outside the house.

With a creak, the door swung open and he froze. The house was silent. Despite the sunny morning, it was dark inside. Light shone in through the small windows, of which there were only three in the whole house, dust particles dancing and playing in the dim rays. Everything about this place was a disgrace to her, but it would get better, wouldn't it?

My heart clenched uncomfortably, a small fear pounding in my chest. Why was the house so quiet? She called his name softly and listened, waiting for an answer. But there was none. Had he gone hunting? But the wolves had been howling all night and it was dangerous to venture far into the forest. "Maybe he's up there," she thought. Clutching the basket, she stepped onto the first step and stopped, startled by the creaking of the floorboards, which sounded ominous in the silence. What nonsense. There was nothing to fear. Even if they were found, her parents would never hurt her.

She pushed her doubts aside and moved upstairs, stopping at the end of the stairs at the only door in the house. Now she felt like a scared little girl again and wanted to run to her father who would protect her from any harm. He was a big man, perhaps the biggest man she had ever met, a true warrior, a hunter. She had always known that she was safe with him, and imagining her father beside her, she dared to step into the room. And froze.

The basket clattered to the floor, the berries scattered across the corridor and rolled down the stairs. Her heart beat slowly but loudly, her eyes filled with terror, her hands numb. She saw him, her lover, the one she had betrayed her family for, the one she had dreamed of spending her life with, and now... Now his breathless body lay on the floor, his grey eyes frozen, staring up at the ceiling, his skin white as if transparent. He was dead. She stood in the doorway for several minutes, trying to process the horror that had overwhelmed her. Tears streamed from her eyes and she rushed to him, trying to move the body, as if hoping he had just fallen asleep. How could he be? He's dead!

There was no telling how much time passed before the girl realised he was gone. She lifted her head from his chest, her shirt wet with her bitter tears. She looked into her lover's face, trying to guess what had caused his death. A thought pierced her mind: he had not died of his own accord. If he had, then someone had killed him. And that someone was close, for the girl had left only an hour ago, and then her lover was still alive. She was really frightened. What was she going to do?

My mind raced. Should she stay in the hut if her lover was gone? But she could not leave him, she loved him. A strange feeling inside her told her to run. To run home. The tiny thought grew wildly until it took hold of her mind and she stumbled away from the dead body and towards the stairs.