Chspter 4: A Silent Night's Scream
1470 Words
The castle seemed to come alive as November deepened. Fresh garlands of pine and holly were hung along the stone corridors, twinkling fairy lights added a warm glow to the windows, and the scent of cinnamon and clove wafted from the kitchens. Even the icy drafts that snaked through the halls felt less biting, softened by the hum of carols drifting from the village below.
Ellie found herself easing into the rhythm of castle life. The steady flow of tours filled her days, and the festive atmosphere of the castle worked its way into her heart. She caught herself smiling more often, laughing with guests, and humming along to the carols she’d once dismissed as background noise. Slowly, the weight of her heartbreak began to lift, like snow melting in the sunlight.
Her favorite place to be, as always, was the portrait room. The quiet gallery felt timeless, its stories unfolding in each brushstroke of the oil paintings. While the guests admired the grandeur of the earlier portraits—the kings and queens, the lords and ladies—Ellie was most drawn to the last painting of the von Krähenburg family.
Unlike the others, this portrait didn’t show a formal indoor scene. Instead, it depicted the family and their staff standing outside the castle gates, surrounded by a backdrop of wintry gray skies and bare trees. Lord Wilhelm stood at the center, his strong features commanding attention, while Lady Eveline held a small child’s hand. Flanking them were the staff, their expressions somber. No one smiled.
“It’s an unusual painting,” Ellie often told her guests. “It’s the last portrait of the family before their disappearance. Unlike the earlier portraits, which were full of warmth and grandeur, this one feels... cold. Distant. Some historians believe it was meant as a farewell of sorts, though we’ll never know for certain.”
The tour group murmured in agreement before moving on, but Ellie lingered. She stepped closer to the painting, her eyes scanning the intricate details. The brushstrokes were remarkably fine, capturing every fold of fabric and strand of hair with lifelike precision.
Her gaze fell on a figure near the edge of the group—a young man in a simple shirt and straw hat. He stood with the other laborers, his posture upright, his features finely painted despite his small size on the canvas. Ellie leaned in, squinting to see him better.
“Hm,” she said to herself.
The resemblance was uncanny. The man in the painting could have been Nick. The same sharp jawline, the same dark, piercing eyes, even the same way he held himself, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Ellie stepped back, her pulse quickening. It couldn’t be Nick. It just couldn’t. This portrait was three centuries old.
She shook her head, telling herself it was just a coincidence. A trick of her imagination, nothing more.
Still, the thought lingered as she finished her tour. The castle’s mysteries seemed to grow deeper with every passing day, and for the first time, Ellie felt a strange pull to uncover them.
That evening, as she joined the staff for dinner in the cozy dining hall, her thoughts were still on the painting. She noticed Greta sitting nearby and leaned over.
“Greta,” Ellie began hesitantly, “I was wondering... have you seen Nick lately? I don’t think I’ve run into him for a few days.”
Greta glanced up from her plate, her brow furrowing. “Ah, Nick. He’s been unwell. Took to his bed a few days ago. Caught a nasty bug, I think. Happens this time of year.”
Ellie’s chest tightened with concern. “Is he okay? Does he need anything?”
Greta smiled warmly. “He’s a tough one, that Nick. He’ll be fine. I think he just needs to rest. I told him to stay in his quarters until he’s feeling better.”
Ellie nodded, but the worry lingered. Nick had always seemed so strong, so unshakable. The idea of him being sick and alone in his room made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
She glanced out the window at the snow falling softly in the courtyard. The castle felt quieter without him, as though something vital was missing. She resolved to check on him tomorrow, even if it was just to leave some soup at his door.
As the carols played faintly in the background and the fire crackled in the hearth, Ellie found herself thinking of her pack, of her duties. She pictured her family and felt a crushing pain as she imagined Megan's face, a sister she could no longer trust. Did she really need to return home?
—-
Ellie woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what had roused her. The castle was silent except for the faint creak of wood settling in the cold. Then she heard it again—a sharp, desperate squealing sound, cutting through the stillness like a blade.
She sat up, her breath visible in the icy air of her room. The noise came again, high-pitched and pained, echoing from the courtyard below. Ellie’s stomach twisted. Something—or someone—was in trouble.
She dressed quickly, pulling on her thick coat and boots and wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck. The castle was dark as she made her way down the corridor, the sconces unlit and the windows offering no moonlight to guide her steps. Outside, the night was black as ink, the thin crescent moon hidden behind clouds.
The cold hit her like a wall when she stepped out into the courtyard, her breath rising in small clouds. The squealing had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She scanned the courtyard, squinting into the darkness. Kida remained silent, as if sedated inside her. Normally she would have been able to see quite well in the dark, however with Kida so separate she found herself helplessly human.
At first, she saw nothing. Then, her eyes adjusted, and she noticed a faint trail in the snow—dark smudges leading from the edge of the garden toward a cluster of bushes near the wall.
Ellie’s boots crunched softly as she followed the trail. Her heart thudded as she drew closer and saw that the dark smudges were red. Blood. She instinctively moved to shift into her wolf form but stopped, suddenly remembering Kida's absence. A hole opening up in the pit of her stomach.
The trail ended at a large bush, its branches heavy with snow. Ellie hesitated, her hand trembling as she pushed the branches aside.
A deer lay beneath the bush, its body still and its eyes wide, reflecting what little light the night offered. Its brown fur was matted with snow, and a thin trickle of blood ran down its neck, staining the pristine white ground beneath it. Ellie scanned the animal for wounds but saw none other than the small punctures where the blood seemed to originate.
Her mind raced. What could have done this? A wolf? But there were no signs of a struggle—no torn fur or tracks in the snow other than the trail of blood.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she glanced around, the weight of the dark pressing in on her. The courtyard was empty, but it felt far from still. Her senses prickled with the uneasy feeling of being watched.
A sudden creak behind her made her whip around. The heavy oak door leading back into the castle was ajar, swaying slightly as though someone had just passed through.
“Hello?” Ellie called, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
No answer. She stepped toward the door, peering into the darkness beyond, but saw nothing. The cold bit at her skin, and the night seemed to press closer, urging her to retreat.
The snow began to fall again, soft flakes drifting down to cover the bloodstained trail. Ellie turned back to the deer one last time, the sight of its still form filling her with a strange mix of sadness and unease.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she hurried back inside, closing the door firmly behind her. The warmth of the castle offered little comfort as she climbed the stairs to her room, her thoughts racing.
She climbed into bed, pulling the blankets tightly around her, but sleep didn’t come easily. The image of the deer’s lifeless eyes and the strange, watchful silence of the courtyard stayed with her.
As the hours stretched on and the snow continued to fall outside her window, Ellie finally drifted into a strange, unrested sleep.
- Writer
