Despite the warmth of Astoria’s body next to mine, the nightmares still came. The coldness and ruin of the estate whispered to me, insidious and relentless. I knew that until we cleansed the dark magic from this place, I would never truly be free.
I fell into a restless sleep, but the night didn’t grant me peace. Instead, it brought me back to the basement—to one of my worst memories from the war.
It brought me to her, my classmate, the girl I couldn’t save. In the dream, I was powerless again, reliving the moment that her screams filled the air.
“Let me go! Please! I beg you!” I shouted, my body jerking with the memory.
My father’s voice echoed in my mind, cold and unforgiving. “A Vesper never begs.” His hollow eyes held my gaze just before he slit her throat.
It felt like my fault all over again. I should’ve known better than to use the word “beg.” I should’ve found a better way to reach him, to plead for her life. But I hadn’t. I had failed her. And now she was dead.
I woke to someone shaking me. Blinking, I opened my eyes to meet Astoria’s soft, violet gaze—concern etched in every beautiful line of her face. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I imagined her as the girl in the basement, my father’s next victim.
“You can’t!” I shouted, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
Her voice came back, sharp with worry. “Can’t what?”
Reality rushed back. I was in the library, and my father was dead. Shame washed over me as I straightened, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry. It was just a dream.”
She studied me, her brow furrowed. “Yes,” she said softly. “It was.”
But the truth lodged itself in my chest like a knife—it wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory. One that would haunt me until my dying day.
* * *
The following morning, over breakfast, Astoria’s eyes locked onto mine. “I’m worried about you. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you’re not sleeping. Please talk to me. I don’t want what’s between us to be some shallow fling.”
“It’s not,” I assured her quickly, but I knew that wasn’t enough.
She waited. Her gaze urging me to say more.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “It’s this place. It feels like the magic is going to consume me.”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I thought the light spells were helping.”
“It’s just a feeling...”
She wasn’t convinced. “It’s more than a feeling. You’re barely sleeping.”
“There are dreams,” I admitted, hesitating. “And it’s so cold.”
“Cold?” Her eyes widened slightly. “You—you don’t feel it?”
I looked at her, worry creeping in. “You don’t?”
“Well, perhaps a little, but estates like this are often drafty.”
I shook my head. “It’s more than a draft. The gloom in the hallways. The way the shadows shift…”
She bit her lip, considering my words. “And there is the matter of the shadow wolves and the barrier that’s formed around the estate. They don’t seem to be fading.”
Relief washed over me—she understood. “Exactly.”
“That feeling... where is it worst?” she asked quietly.
“The basement,” I replied, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Then, panic surged through me. “No! We’re not going down there.”
“Why not?” Her tone was calm, but her gaze sharp.
I clenched my fists, trying to rein in the fear bubbling inside me. “It’s not safe,” I snapped.
Her eyebrow arched in response, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air.
I exhaled, my frustration deflating. “I don’t want you to see what’s down there.”
The basement was the place of my nightmares. I didn’t know what horrors remained below, and I never wanted to find out. But more than anything, I didn’t want Astoria to see. To know the truth of what I had allowed to happen within these walls. To see the monster I had become during the war.
“You aren’t responsible for your father’s deeds,” she said softly.
“You’re letting me off too easily,” I muttered bitterly. “I may not have been directly involved, but I was a witness. I did nothing to stop it. And the one time I tried—” My voice broke off, shame choking the words.
Astoria tilted her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “What happened?”
I didn’t want to tell her. How could I? But as she reached across the table, her hand brushing mine, I realized that maybe she was right. Maybe my nightmares, my past, held the key to breaking free from this place.
I drew in a ragged breath, preparing to unearth memories I had buried for years. “Many fae prisoners were held here during the war, but there was only one I knew. A classmate of ours, several years younger. I watched them drag her through the front doors in iron shackles. Her arms were covered in bleeding sores. I knew I had to do something.”
I lowered my head, shame flooding my veins. “I’d seen countless people brought through those doors and done nothing. My father always told me they deserved it—that it was for the good of our people. And I believed him. At first.”
Astoria remained silent, her gaze unwavering, as though she understood how hard this was for me to say.
I continued, my voice raw with emotion. “Until her. She was only sixteen and still a student. What could she have possibly done wrong? I knew her once… and now she was locked in my family’s basement. I couldn’t just let it happen.”
“Who was it?” she asked softly.
We both knew the weight of her question. There were still so many unaccounted for, on both sides. After three months, most were presumed dead.
“Elyssa Fairweather,” I whispered.
Her lip trembled. “I knew her. I tutored her once, for a test.”
The unspoken question lingered between us. “Is she... dead?”
“I’m sorry. She never left the house.”
Astoria’s breath hitched, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”
I hesitated, every part of me wanting to stop. “The day she was brought here, I snuck down to the basement. That’s where they did their interrogations, their rituals. You know enough about blood magic to understand what it involves. I won’t—can’t—go into detail.”
Her hand covered mine, a gentle reassurance. “I understand.”
How could she comfort me when I didn’t deserve it?
“I tried to save her,” I said, the words heavier than I expected. “I waited until my father was out in the fields with his men. I knew I had about an hour.”
“And?” she asked, leaning closer, though she already knew this story didn’t end well.
“I found her chained to the floor. I tried every key I could find, but none worked. I didn’t dare use magic—it would’ve alerted my father. So I promised her I would return, that I’d find a way.”
I paused, unable to continue. The worst part was that Elyssa had believed me. She died thinking I would come back for her.
“So, you went back?” Astoria urged gently.
“I waited,” I admitted, barely able to meet her gaze. “I was so worried she would die before I could reach her. But then the very next day, my father went into town. It seemed like the perfect opportunity, but my father had become suspicious by then. He left guards behind—hidden by enchantments. They caught me and clapped me in irons.”
Astoria’s face paled. “And then?”
My voice was barely a whisper. “And then my father killed her. Right in front of me. When he was done, he sliced my hand and used it for part of the ritual.”
Astoria covered her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t believe he did that to his own son.”
I shook my head. “Why should you be sorry? I failed her.”
“But you tried to save her,” she said softly. “You did everything you could.”
“Trying wasn’t enough!” My voice cracked, tears pooling in my eyes. “By the end of the war, my father was hollow—consumed by dark magic. He was a monster. He loved to drag his weak, useless son to the dungeon to watch the killings. If I cried out or tried to intervene in any way, he made sure their deaths were slow and cruel.”
Astoria moved toward me, wrapping me in a warm embrace. Her arms around me were a small comfort in the face of so much pain, but I held onto her like a lifeline. “I’m so sorry, Hugo,” she whispered, her voice soft in the quiet room.
* * *
When I regained control, I knew there was only one thing left to do. I led Astoria toward the kitchen, and together we descended the stone spiral staircase. With every step, the cold tendrils of dark magic brushed over me, clinging like frost. Phantom whispers echoed through the passage—faint, broken voices of the fae who had perished here. Some begged for mercy, others cursed the humans who’d imprisoned them. The screams of agony cut through the air, chilling me to my core.
Astoria’s hand rested gently on my shoulder, grounding me. “I can hear them, too,” she whispered, her voice laced with sorrow.
I was sorry she had to bear the weight of such terrible memories, but her words gave me a grim sense of relief. It meant the voices were real, that I hadn’t fully lost my mind to madness.
We passed cell after cell, each a macabre reminder of the horrors this place had once held. Iron chains dangled from the walls. Cold metal chairs stood like sentinels over the remnants of suffering. Blood stained the floors in dark patches, and scattered among the stones were grisly fragments—bones and hair—left behind.
At last, we reached it. The room that had called to me, its icy grip tightening around my heart. The place where gatherings had been held, where blood rituals were performed—the room where Elyssa had died.
I stopped in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. The room was stark and empty, the stone walls gray and lifeless. In the center stood a large metal table and chair/
But what caught my eye—what made my blood run cold—was the single object resting on the table.
A red rose. Perfectly preserved beneath a large bell jar. Its petals were as crimson as the day I’d plucked it from my lapel and handed it to Elyssa.
My heart twisted painfully in my chest. The rose was a cruel reminder of the promises I had made to her. Promises I had failed to keep. I had vowed to return. I had vowed to save her.
And I had broken them both, irrevocably and tragically.
I stared at the rose in horror, unable to tear my eyes away.
Astoria stepped forward, her voice soft but resolute. “It’s not your fault, Hugo,” she said, her eyes reflecting the pain I felt.
But I couldn’t respond. The rose was too much. It mocked me with its fragile beauty. All I could do was stare, as the memories of that day threatened to drown me.