Page 171 of Castings & Curses

As I delved deeper, nothing I read made me feel better about Cristian’s fate. I needed to know for certain what had happened to him. If the rumors were true.

That evening, as I retired to my tiny attic room, I found myself gazing at the moonlit landscape. Somewhere out there, Cristian might be dealing with the aftermath of his transformation. The thought filled me with an inexplicable longing, a yearning to reach out, to help.

Wrapped in my cloak of worry and armed with newfound knowledge, I resolved to face whatever might come. If Cristian had plunged into the realm of darkness, I would bring him light. He was not just a nobleman or a vampire; he was a man I found myself undeniably drawn to, and I was ready to fight for him. A sense of determination welled up in me, as powerful as the magic that pulsed in my veins.

I whispered, “I must be the witch, the healer, the friend.” The words carried a promise, a vow not just to understand Cristian’s new world, but to be a part of it, for better or worse.

* * *

The next day,I went to the village. As always, it bustled with life. Women sang as they did laundry by the riverside, and children scampered through the street, their laughter ringing amid the cottages. And all the while, the burden I carried weighed heavily on me.

I visited the elderly Mrs. Dascalu, her wrinkles deepening in her round face as she smiled at me. “Ah, our lovely witch! What brings you here?”

“I need your wisdom,” I admitted, my fingers clutching a small leather-bound journal filled with decades of her wisdom about the supernatural. She had seen and known more about the otherworldly than most in the village. Little escaped her notice. “I seek information on vampires.”

Her smile faltered, replaced by an expression of profound concern. “That’s a dark path, my dear. One best left untraveled.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury,” I confessed. “I fear a friend is in trouble.”

We huddled over linden tea sweetened with honey in her small, cozy cottage, discussing the more salient pages in her journal. She regaled me with tales she’d heard as a child, warnings about the creatures of the night. “Powerful but cursed. Their allure can be deadly.” She paused a moment, gazing into her steaming cup. “May I ask… Is your friend Lord Lazar?”

I bit my lip and slowly nodded.

She exhaled heavily. “I’m not one to spread rumors”—she absolutely was; this was why I had sought her out—“but I have heard he’s been seen skulking through the village on Radu Mirea’s estate, late at night. And several men have been found”—she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper—“drained of every last drop of blood.”

“Might it have been something else? Perhaps Lord Lazar was there hunting whatever caused this?” I asked hopefully.

Mrs. Dascalu’s plump cheeks trembled as she shook her head. “I saw his man, Vasile, leaving Ravenscroft a week ago. He told the other servants not to return to the castle. What cause could there be for that other than that his lord had fallen to the shadows and become a creature of the night?” She took a noisy sip of her tea, her wide brown eyes studying me over the rim of her cup for my reaction.

Well, that was bad news indeed, the very worst. Mrs. Dascalu’s words merely confirmed what my heart already knew. Cristian’s ambition had caused him to seek a transformation. My stomach clenched at the thought.

“Do you know of the curse between vampires and our kind?” I asked her.

“Of course,” Mrs. Dascalu said, picking at her pear-filledfrgál, freshly baked that morning, “the feud arose from that curse. No vampire or witch may fall in love. Else disaster will rain down upon us all. It is so ominous that as far I know, no one has challenged it for centuries. Perhaps your grandfather might know more?”

“Perhaps. I’ll be sure to ask him…next time I see him,” I said, not wanting to sound too anxious. Her shrewd gaze missed nothing.

As dusk fell, I left Mrs. Dascalu’s with a troubled mind. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling leaves in a mournful song as I walked back to my cottage.

I paused for a moment outside my home, looking up at the silhouette of Ravenscroft castle against the twilight. It was a stark reminder of his wealth, his status, his power, and now, his damnation. Determination filled me. He was trapped in a world of darkness, and I would be his beacon, guiding him back toward the light.

The small, iridescent crystal pulsed with warm energy, the embodiment of my resolve. The supernatural world was vast and complex, full of ancient beings, secret curses, and endless enchantments. But I, Sage Hawthorn, the village witch, was ready to stand up to it all.

“I will help you, Cristian,” I vowed under my breath, clutching the pendant around my neck.

The promise echoed in the stillness, a silent vow to a man I barely knew, yet to whom I felt inexplicably connected.

CHAPTER8

Sage

After waitinguntil dusk had fallen the next day, I decided to seek Cristian out, Mrs. Dascalu’s stories still ringing in my ears. I knew that vampires could be active during the day as long as they avoided sunlight, but I was more likely to find him by night.

A deafening silence marked the journey to the castle, the normally chirping crickets now ominously quiet, as if in anticipation of the confrontation that was about to unfold.

As I reached the castle’s grand entrance, I hesitated. My fingers brushed over the pendant around my neck. The tiny crystal hummed with warmth, a silent reassurance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.

No one answered my knock. Neither his adviser, Vasile, nor any other servant appeared when I pushed open the heavy iron and wood door, confirming Mrs. Dascalu’s information. The atmosphere within was cold and still. No fire burned in the great hearth of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I forged ahead, down one corridor then another, until finally, I discovered what must be his library.

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