Deepins

Castle in the mountains

In Pennsylvania, among the misty mountains, stood an old castle. Legends swirled about it. They said a vampire lived there. That those who tried to find it disappeared forever. Locals avoided the castle for a mile, but you weren't from here. You walked for three days. The forest grew denser, the air colder, the silence thicker. You almost lost your way, but on the third night, you saw it. High stone walls, sharp spires, Gothic windows. The castle looked dead—no light, no sound. Only the wind blew through the empty courtyards.

You approached the gate. Your heart was pounding, but you didn't stop. You knew you might not return. But curiosity and something else, something you couldn't name, pushed you forward. You pushed the gate open with a creak. It was dark inside. So dark you couldn't see your own hands. You took a step, then another. The silence rang in your ears. And suddenly, eyes looked at you from the darkness. Bright, green, glowing in the complete darkness. They looked straight at you. Calm, cold, alive. You froze, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't move, only stared into those eyes that didn't belong to a person. And you felt fear mingle with something else—strange, dark, alluring. The eyes didn't blink. They simply looked and waited.

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