Darke Chronicles I: Where the Departed Come to Die

The Anthology of Vampirism

The Dark Princess soaked in the beams of the moon as she stood upon the balcony that overlooked the courtyard of the castle, hidden deep within the Balkan Mountains. Her pale face was still and she looked picturesque as she watched the nightlife go about their routines. She could hear the sound of Lady Sélene de Corbin fettering outside the door to her boudoir. Alma, the Princess, sighed, rolled her eyes and then called for the girl to enter.

"I did not know if you were busy." Sélene's voice was soft, like a blanket or cloud. She was of fair hair and complexion, her eyes a piercing blue. Like Alma, she too was bestowed with the Dark Gift. "Your father wished to know if you were still here."

"Ah, yes." Alma sighed. "The banquet. How could I possibly forget that?"

Sélene merely ignored her sarcasm and approached her, joining her side by the balcony, it was where she often was. Attached to Alma's hip.

"You could try and come down."

"He only wishes to bestow to me a husband, of which I could not care less about." Alma cracked her knuckles in anticipation.

"Is marriage really as bad as that?"

"The Count has three wives." Alma indicated with her fingers, her waist resting against the balcony. "So that could mean either he loves the concept of marriage that much that he must pilfer every wife he can, or, and this seems the more likelier of the two, he does not care enough for any of them and decides that with each one he marries, he may be able to have a fraction of happiness and contentment." She turned back to look over the courtyard, she could see carriages filter in through the gates, the servants rushing about like headless chickens, and the silhouette of the Count standing by the main doors to welcome his guests.

Whilst Lady Sélene had a Parisian accent, Alma spoke with a distinctive phrasal intonation that dragged out the end of a sentence in a peculiar fashion with a strange tonal rise and fall.

Sélene whispered into Alma's ear, "Ma chérie, your father only wishes the best for you."

"Si mi padre deseara lo mejor para mí, me permitiría amarte en voz alta y no a puerta cerrada." Alma muttered as she turned to face Sélene, a hand gracing her features before cupping her neck gently. In translation, if the Count really cared for Alma in the way that she and Sélene believed, then Alma would be free to love and marry who she chose to, she would be free to show Sélene how much she loved her, and not behind closed doors either.

Alma's chambers were the second largest in the old castle. The Count had the largest. It seemed she was forever in his shadow in more ways that one. There were large drapes that would cover the two sophisticated stained glass windows, one depicting a beautiful fair maiden with long, snow-white wings, the other a monstrous formation of a winged beast with sharp horns and equally sharp fangs. There was another pair of scarlet drapes with black detailing that were tied back, forming the entrance that led to the balcony where Alma would spend many arduous, melancholy hours upon. A desk, made out of the dark oak from what used to be an ancient tree a little way outside the boundaries of the castle, stood beside a tall mirror with golden trimmings. An inkwell in the shape of an owl stood in the middle of the back of the desk with a swan feather quill laying beside it with parchment and wax stamp that held the vampiric crest of the Count's family. A set of three enormous wardrobes, filled to the brim with gorgeous, fashionable clothing and accessories, stood towards the back of the room with a divider held up against the cold, stone walls. Upon the ceiling, in all of its grandeur, was a marvellous crystal chandelier, the flames of the dozen candles were gently flickering in the night. Attached to the walls, were a collection of sconces with their own flames betwixt them. A bear skin rug was laid across the floor with a pair of heels strewn over it, in front of an elegantly designed coffin, carvings of such beauty decorating the lid, the inside was made of the finest silk and feathers, dyed with soft, pastel pink and a small pillow where one should lay their dainty head as the sun rose in the blue sky above the castle. The chambers were as pulchritudinous as their owner, the bewitching princess of the castle hidden in the mountains. Some only heard of her, to see her was a fate that not all were granted.