AllFreeNovel
Share Us
BONE WHITE, BLOOD RED. HERE LIES SOMETHING LONG DEAD.
TREE OF DEATH AND HEART OF STONE. NEVER ENTER THE CRYPT ALONE.
IF YOU DO, HE’LL MARK YOUR TRACKS, HUNT YOU DOWN, AND THEN ATTACK.
BONE WHITE, BLOOD RED. THERE LIE THOSE WHO SHOULD HAVE FLED.
I read it out loud for Thomas, my thoughts entirely set on our mission once again. He pushed strands of dark hair off his forehead and sighed. “I don’t recall Radu mentioning anything about battling strigoi, do you?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I shook my head. Our lessons on vampires hadn’t offered any hints on how we might survive a chamber dedicated to them. “Come on,” I said, lifting my partially dry skirts and nodded toward the entryway, “staying here won’t get us out of these tunnels any faster.”
“No,” Thomas agreed, following slowly, “but I’d much rather be covered in sludge than see what other delights are awaiting us.”
The tunnel wasn’t very long and spat us into another chamber, as if we’d walked from one grand room in the castle to another. “Like this. How charming.”
I tore my attention from the stone walls and inspected where we were, immediately regretting it. This chamber was an enormous old crypt split into two sections by an elaborate archway. Someone had recently been down here lighting torches, and my blood chilled at the thought. There had to be a way to get here other than the hellish route we had found. I found myself torn between pushing forward and running in the opposite direction.
Thomas and I stopped under the archway, unwilling to cross into the space beyond. He glanced at me and lifted a finger to his lips. We needed to move as quickly and quietly as possible.
I inspected the arch, trying to control the gooseflesh erupting down my body. It was made entirely of antlers. I couldn’t begin to comprehend how many stags must have died to fashion such a horrid thing, but my attention was quickly drawn elsewhere. The rest of the chamber was even more horrific.
The dead did not rest peacefully in this crypt. Their remains had been disturbed, manipulated into a nightmarish scene straight from the pages of gothic horrors. Everything was created from cold, white bone. Grave markers. Ornate crosses. The walls. Ceiling. Fencing. Everything, everything was made of parts of skeletons, both human and animal, at first glance. I swallowed down my revulsion.
Radu had been wrong about the woods being filled with bones. The space below the mountain was.
From here, we could see a fenced-in mausoleum, standing like a small, unholy chapel within a vast burial ground. Instead of having stone flooring, the graveyard had packed earth, making me wonder if we’d finally reached the true bottom of the mountain. The fence was constructed of upright bones that had been stuck into the soil. A crude, partially open gate sat at its center. My body hummed with anticipation and dread. I did not wish to cross into that section of Hell.
Huge columns of entwined bone stood tall along the four sides of the mausoleum, which was also made entirely from remains. In the center of what could best be described as a sprawling graveyard of half-unearthed skeletons, there was a large tree whose branches nearly reached the high ceiling. Like everything else in this horrid chamber, the tree limbs were composed entirely of bones. The monstrosity had to be at least twenty feet tall.
We walked on, pausing outside the fence. Thomas had gone as silent as the cemetery we were standing near, attention sweeping from one outrageous sight to the next. Upturned earth and mildew tickled my nose, but I dared not sneeze. Any number of things could be lurking in the tangle of horror surrounding us.
Thomas shifted his focus to the macabre scene directly on our path. “I believe we’ve found the Tree of Death mentioned in Poezii Despre Moarte,” he whispered, still glancing around.
“At least it’s aptly named. It certainly wouldn’t be confused with the Tree of Life.”
“It’s so… appalling. Yet I’m oddly enchanted.” Thomas rattled off each new bone he identified in the tree situated within the fence. “Humerus, radius”—he sucked in a breath, pointing to another bit of ivory—“and that’s an admirable ulna. Must have come from a near-giant. Tibia, fibula, patella…”
“Thank you for the anatomy lesson, Cresswell. I can see what they are,” I said quietly, nodding toward the gated entrance and its unearthed bones. “Where should we begin?”
“With the tree, naturally. And we need to hurry. I have a feeling whoever lit the torches will return soon enough.” Thomas handed the lantern to me. “After you, my dear.”
A vast part of myself did not wish to enter this devil’s acre—it seemed an annihilation of the sanctity of death—but we’d come too far to let trepidation rule my senses. If Daciana or Ileana or Nicolae was in trouble, we needed to keep moving forwar
d. No matter that my instincts were screaming for me to grab Thomas’s hand and run in the opposite direction.
I breathed deeply, hoping neither my imagination nor my body would fail me now. If ever there were a time for clear thoughts and a steady pulse, this would be it.
Without letting fear sink its claws into me, I lifted my chin and tiptoed toward the fence of long-picked-over cadavers. However, I couldn’t stop my sharp intake of breath when I entered the graveyard containing what the Poezii Despre Moarte called the Tree of Death.
I could very much imagine Vlad Dracula rising from this spot, coming to greet his last male heir.
TREE OF DEATH
COPACUL MORTII
BRAN CASTLE
22 DECEMBER 1888
