The castle on the hill

3

Finally, the heavy tread of footsteps broke the silence. Elena, the eldest maid, her face etched with worry, entered the room.  Her gaze swept over your startled faces, taking in your wide eyes and trembling hands.

"Did you hear that?" Olive whispered, her voice barely audible.

Elena nodded curtly, a deep sigh escaping her lips.  "It happens sometimes," she said, her voice low and measured.  "Best not to dwell on it."

"But what was it?" you pressed, unable to contain your curiosity.  "Who screamed?"

Elena's gaze flickered to the flickering flames in the fireplace, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing her features.  "There are things in this castle," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "things best left unseen and unheard."

She hesitated, then continued, her voice laced with a weariness that belied her years.  "The Lady Dimitrescu... she has a way of dealing with those who... displease her."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air.  Displease.  The word conjured unsettling images, a glimpse into a world of unseen punishments meted out within the castle's ancient walls.  You stole a glance at Olive, finding a mixture of fear and defiance in her eyes.

"What happens to them?" Olive asked, her voice barely a tremor.

Elena shook her head, the lines on her face deepening.  "That, child, is none of our concern.  Our duty is to serve the Lady and her daughters, to keep silent, and to never, ever forget the walls have ears."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine.  Walls with ears.  The castle, it seemed, was more than just a collection of stones and mortar.  It was a living, breathing entity, a silent observer of all that transpired within its walls.

The following days were shrouded in an unsettling silence. The memory of the scream lingered, a constant reminder of the hidden dangers that lurked beneath the castle's stoic facade.  You found yourself looking at the Lady Dimitrescu with a newfound apprehension.  Her usual cool demeanor now seemed laced with an undercurrent of something much darker.

One afternoon, while cleaning the Lady's private chambers, you stumbled upon a hidden compartment within a carved wardrobe.  Curiosity, a force you could no longer suppress, gnawed at you.  Ignoring the voice of caution whispering in your ear, you cautiously pried open the compartment.

Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten scarves and a collection of tarnished silver trinkets, lay a small, leather-bound journal.  Your fingers brushed against the worn cover, a thrill of excitement coursing through you.  This could be a glimpse into the castle's secrets, a way to understand the enigmatic Lady Dimitrescu and the chilling scream that had shattered the night's stillness.

Just as you were about to peek inside the journal, a sound from the doorway froze you in your tracks.  The Lady Dimitrescu stood there, her dark eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger sparking within them.  You had been caught, your curiosity leading you down a forbidden path.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating.  You stammered an apology, dropping the journal back into the hidden compartment as if it burned your fingers.

The Lady Dimitrescu advanced towards you, her presence filling the room.  You flinched, bracing yourself for a harsh reprimand.  But her voice, when she spoke, was surprisingly calm.

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing within these walls," she stated, her gaze unwavering.  "Remember, silence is your shield.  The less you know, the safer you are."

You nodded fervently, vowing to never repeat your transgression.  The Lady turned and swept out of the room, leaving you alone with the echo of her words and the unsettling knowledge that your curiosity could have come at a terrible price.

The following days were a blur of guilt and unease.  The incident with the journal served as a stark reminder of the boundaries that existed within the castle.  You were a servant, nothing more, and your place was to keep your head down, your voice quiet, and your curiosity firmly in check.

One evening, as you and Olive were preparing for bed, a low, rhythmic chanting drifted through the stone walls.  It originated from somewhere deep within the castle, a haunting melody that sent shivers down your spine.  Olive clutched your arm, her eyes wide with fear.