Scarlet Curse

Chasing Carmilla

The cottage was silent, save for the occasional creak of the wooden beams as the cool night breeze swept through the trees. Carmilla lay in bed, her eyes heavy with sleep, but her mind restless.

Even now, the events of the past few days replayed in her mind—her journey to Thylonos, her encounter with the men who meant her harm, and, of course, the prince who had saved her. Magnus, she thought, the memory of his intense gaze lingering. He had been both distant and protective, an enigmatic figure who seemed to know more than he let on.

Finally, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

The sound of rustling leaves woke her suddenly. Her eyes snapped open, her heart racing as she strained to listen. At first, she thought it might be the wind brushing through the trees, but then she heard it again—footsteps, faint but deliberate.

Her pulse quickened as she slipped out of bed and reached for the knife she kept by her bedside. Holding it tightly, she moved to the window and peered out into the darkness.

The moonlight illuminated the yard, and her breath caught when she saw fast-moving silhouettes darting between the trees.

“Who’s there?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.

The shadows were too quick for her to make out any details, but the eerie stillness of the night made her skin crawl.

Summoning her courage, she crept to the door. Her hand hovered over the handle, hesitating as fear coiled in her chest. But the rustling continued, and curiosity outweighed her caution. She pulled the door open, the cold night air biting against her skin.

“Hello?” she called, stepping onto the porch.

The forest was silent. No shadows moved, no footsteps echoed. Just the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.

She let out a shaky breath, telling herself she was imagining things. But as she turned to close the door, a chill ran down her spine.

Someone was behind her.

Slowly, she turned, her breath hitching. A figure cloaked in black stood just a few feet away, their glowing eyes piercing through the darkness.

Her knife slipped from her hand as terror gripped her.

The figure stepped closer.

She screamed, bolting into the woods without thinking. Her bare feet pounded against the earth as she ran, her breath coming in frantic gasps.

“Help!” she cried, though she knew the cottage’s remote location made it unlikely anyone would hear her.

Branches scratched at her arms, and her legs burned with exertion, but she pushed herself to keep running. Behind her, the sound of movement grew louder. The cloaked figure—or figures—were chasing her, their speed unnatural.

Her lungs burned, and her vision blurred with tears of panic. Just as she thought she couldn’t run any further, a familiar voice cut through the night.

“Over here!”

She stumbled to a stop, her chest heaving as she turned toward the sound. Emerging from the shadows was Magnus, his dark cloak blending into the night.

“You—” she gasped, relief and disbelief flooding her chest. “Magnus, it’s you!”

He wasted no time. In an instant, he closed the distance between them and scooped her into his arms as though she weighed nothing.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice low and steady.

“Wait, what—”

Before she could finish, he began running. But this was no ordinary run. The world around them blurred, the wind whipping through her hair as he moved with impossible speed.

“How are you—” she started, her words catching in her throat as the ground seemed to disappear beneath them.

Magnus didn’t answer, his focus on the path ahead.

The sound of pursuit grew louder, and Carmilla twisted in his arms to see more cloaked figures emerging from the trees, their glowing eyes fixed on them.

“They’re still coming!” she exclaimed.

“I know,” he said, his voice cold and calm.

Her heart pounded as she clung to him, her mind racing with questions. “Who are they?”

“Vampires,” he replied bluntly.

Her breath caught. “What? Vampires?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his tone clipped.

Her head spun as she tried to process his words. Vampires were nothing more than myths, weren’t they? But the glowing eyes, the unnatural speed—it all fit.

“Why are they chasing me?” she demanded.

Magnus’s jaw tightened. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“That’s not an answer!” she shot back, her fear giving way to frustration.

“It’s the only answer you’re getting right now,” he said sharply, his gaze fixed ahead.

They reached a clearing, and Magnus came to an abrupt stop. He set her down gently, though his movements were quick and deliberate.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Carmilla’s legs wobbled as she tried to steady herself. Her eyes darted to the edge of the clearing, where the cloaked figures began to emerge.

There were five of them now, their glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

Magnus stepped forward, placing himself between her and the intruders.

“This is your only warning,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Leave now.”

One of the figures chuckled, the sound cold and menacing. “You can’t protect her forever, Your Highness.”

Carmilla’s breath hitched. Your Highness. Of course. He wasn’t just Magnus—he was Prince Magnus Silvius of Thylonos.

Magnus’s expression hardened. “You’re not welcome here. Leave before I make you.”

The figure sneered. “She’s important, isn’t she? Hand her over, and we won’t have to spill blood tonight.”

Magnus smirked, though there was no humor in it. “You think you can threaten me? You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

The tension in the air was suffocating. The vampires lunged toward Magnus, their movements a blur of speed and aggression.

But Magnus was faster.

In a flash, he grabbed one by the throat, slamming him into the ground with a force that made the earth tremble. Another came at him from the side, but he dodged effortlessly, delivering a powerful blow that sent the attacker flying.

Carmilla watched in stunned silence, unable to believe what she was seeing. Magnus moved with the precision of a predator, every strike calculated and deadly.

The remaining vampires hesitated, clearly unnerved by his strength.

“This isn’t over,” one of them hissed before disappearing into the shadows.

The others followed, retreating into the night until the forest was silent once more.

Magnus turned to Carmilla, his expression unreadable. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, still struggling to find her voice. “What… what just happened? Who were they? Why did they call you Your Highness?”

Magnus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “It’s a long story.”

Carmilla glared at him, her fear giving way to anger. “I think I deserve an explanation!”

He met her gaze, his expression softening slightly. “I’ll explain, but not here. It’s not safe.”

She wanted to argue, but the concern in his eyes stopped her. “Fine,” she said reluctantly. “But you’d better tell me everything.”

“I will,” he promised, offering his hand. “Let’s get you back to safety first.”

As they made their way back through the woods, Carmilla’s mind swirled with questions. Who was Magnus, really? Why were vampires after her? And what did he mean when he said she was “important”?

Whatever the answers were, one thing was certain—her life in Thylonos was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.