The echoes of footsteps rise in the vastness of the courtyard, cutting through the thick, heavy air that cloaks the castle like a mantle of black silk. A profound silence, almost tangible, blankets this forgotten space, while the atmosphere grows dense with a biting chill, laden with the damp scent of ancient stone. The brick walls, worn and fractured by time, are drowned beneath a shroud of thick moss and climbing vines that coil in sinuous spirals, like dead arms grasping to claim the structure.

The sharp, deliberate footsteps reverberate, weaving their rhythm into the void like a macabre melody. The uneven cobblestones, smoothed down by centuries of passage, whisper beneath each step, murmuring secrets buried deep in their cracks witnesses to lives long past, of invisible servants and indifferent nobles. Weathered statues of stone, eroded by time and tempest, stand sentinel at the edges of the courtyard. Their broken, frozen forms seem to stare with eternal, lifeless gazes, yet they exude a silent presence, imbuing the space with an eerie aura. Flickering lanterns, suspended in the darkness, cast a dying light that paints shifting shadows, blending with the warped silhouettes of statues and ancient buildings in a dance of eternal stasis.

The footsteps press onward, leaving the courtyard to delve into the castle's shadowed halls. The thick stone walls, steadfast and unyielding, bear the scars of a distant past, etched by the relentless passage of centuries and the creeping touch of moisture. Hanging tapestries, weighed down by dust and decay, adorn the walls, depicting scenes of ancient battles and forgotten royal exploits. Their once-vibrant hues have dulled, the designs nearly erased by the breath of time, leaving behind a faded beauty steeped in melancholy. The corridor floors are lined with tattered woolen carpets, worn and frayed, their threads shredded by countless steps. Each stride sinks into the accumulated dust, breaking the oppressive silence of the dim corridors.

Descending the garden stairs, the light dwindles further, nearly swallowed by an omnipresent darkness. The rough, uneven steps, slick with moss and mildew, become treacherously smooth underfoot. The air grows wetter, heavy with the scent of earth and decay, as the path plunges into the castle’s lower levels. Wild vegetation, untamed and unchecked, forces its way through the cracks in the walls, its roots creeping outward like clawed fingers seeking to consume the very edifice. Small, high-set windows nearly imperceptible permit only the faintest traces of moonlight, barely enough to outline the contours of the space. Shadows writhe and shift, twisting and coiling like phantoms.

The footsteps draw closer, heading toward the servants' quarters. This part of the castle, secluded from the rest, feels like a realm suspended in time, where light dares not tread and the air grows heavier, more suffocating.

Do not ask me how I can hear all of this, for I have no answer. The echo of those steps reaches me like a distant, almost unreal melody, but I know someone approaches my room.

The door creaks open slowly, and a silhouette emerges in the doorway.

The princess.

She glides toward me without a sound, her movements fluid and ethereal, as though she floats rather than walks. But what freezes me in place is not her otherworldly beauty but the way she communicates. She speaks no words aloud, yet I hear them clearly in my mind. Her lips remain sealed, but her eyes glow with a peculiar light, a radiance that pierces directly into my soul.

She gazes at me, waiting for a reaction. Instinctively, I avert my eyes, overwhelmed by uncertainty and fear. Before I can flee, she places her right hand, soft as silk, against my face, compelling me to meet her gaze once more. Her warmth seeps through my skin, sinking deep into my core. Her voice resonates again in my mind, gentle and calm: "I know you're afraid, but it will be alright."

She brushes my cheeks gently, wiping away the tears staining them. The warmth of her hand slides slowly down to my neck, almost burning me with its intensity. I shudder at her delicate touch, but what unnerves me most is the faint smile that graces her lips a smile both comforting and unsettling, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing. She looks at me again, her gaze now deeper, and she asks a question not aloud, but with the same silent voice that invades my mind: "Are you hungry?"

I recoil as if struck, jerking her hand away from my face as I spring to my feet and retreat a few steps. She watches me without moving, her expression slowly hardening as the warmth of the moment dissipates. She becomes an impassive figure once more, an enigma encased in a fragile body. I stammer, my lips forming the words of my confusion and disgust aloud, unlike her, but it doesn’t seem to faze her.

She steps closer. I don’t have time to react before she produces a dagger, her motion swift and fluid, as though the blade were a natural extension of herself. With unnerving precision, she slices her palm, the weapon gliding smoothly into her flesh. I rush forward, horrified, to help her, but the moment her blood begins to flow, an uncontrollable impulse seizes me. I don’t understand at first, but then my lips press against her hand, and I drink. Feverishly. Unthinkingly. The taste is overwhelming, almost intoxicating, and I can’t stop myself.

It’s too late when I realize what I’ve done. My eyes widen in horror, and shame floods me as I stagger back, falling to my knees before her, one hand clamped over my mouth as though to stifle the guilt threatening to consume me. I stammer apologies, trembling with self-loathing, but the princess remains unfazed. She approaches me slowly, kneeling to meet me at my level. She lifts my face, her gaze locking with mine, and a reassuring smile graces her lips a smile that, strangely, soothes me.

She licks her wounded hand, and before my astonished eyes, the gash heals instantly, the skin closing as if it had never been cut. She speaks softly but firmly, her voice resonating in my mind: "Don’t worry. It’s alright. This is normal. Don’t be afraid." She wraps me in her arms with infinite tenderness, rocking me gently, whispering words I cannot understand words that seem to belong to another world. I surrender to the warmth of her embrace, my eyes growing heavy as a veil of sleep descends over me, and I drift into the comforting, engulfing darkness of the princess’s arms.