Chapter Text
“I’m watching you.”
Those three words were all it took to send a chill down Ingrid’s spine. When she was making her way through the cellars, she only had to endure the hisses, shrieks, and growls from bloodthirsty creatures that were once young women, like her.
She shivered, remembering the notes she’d read along the way. After waking up from what seemed to be the longest sleep she’d had since her arrival to Castle Dimitrescu, she discovered the sinister, ancient truth buried beneath the castle’s golden, lavish exterior. All through a series of notes and diary entries.
The first had been found in a hole inside the wall of her cell. It was written by someone who was attempting to escape this castle and it led her to the very first thing she needed to get out of the dungeon.
Bolt cutters, shoved forcibly in the back of a long-dead woman.
When she escaped the dungeon and made it into the main hall, Ingrid had learned even more truths about Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters, mainly the daughters’ penchant for scarring their maids and berating them for trying to ease their discomfort. Passing by the doors bearing House Dimitrescu’s family crest, Ingrid repressed a shudder as the contents of each note filled her mind.
Maids being sent to the cellar for simple mistakes was horrifying enough. Discovering that they were being experimented on, their virginal blood being drained and used as the Lady’s most popular vintage...these things made Ingrid question everything she thought she knew about this village.
And that included its leader.
What kind of leader allows their followers to suffer such an atrocious fate?
Why would Mother Miranda condone such a thing?
Ingrid had initially believed that Mother Miranda had Her reasons for separating children from their parents and siblings. Surely, she’d thought, that it would do some good for the villagers to receive training from Her Children, the Four Lords of the Village.
Had she known any of this beforehand, she would never have volunteered herself. But at the same time, she had no other choice, because Mother Miranda would’ve chosen her younger sister instead.
Evanna…
Ingrid’s heart twisted in knots as she imagined Evanna alone in this large castle, among a group of strangers. She knew the villagers saw them both as interlopers rather than two orphaned girls forced to flee their home in Sweden after their parents’ gruesome murders at the hands of three entitled vagrants. If not for Mother Miranda’s blessing, they would’ve been left to die in the cold, unforgiving woods surrounding her village.
There was the additional fact that Evanna was a witch. More specifically, a naturhaxa, a witch who could control the four elements. The night when Evanna’s powers manifested for the first time was a night that would remain tattooed in Ingrid’s mind.
A chilling laugh broke the silence in the castle, and it sounded like one of the Lady’s daughters (perhaps the same one who taunted her?). Touching the necklace of animal bones--her own protection against evil--with one hand while gripping the stolen courtyard key with the other, Ingrid made haste down the stairways to the dining room door…
...only to be faced with another problem.
“I won’t last until dinner.”
The swarm of flies swirled around Ingrid’s body, taking the form of Lady Dimitrescu's middle daughter, the sadistic Miss Cassandra. Before Ingrid could even move, Cassandra moved in and took two bites.
Ingrid shrieked in pain, which only made Cassandra laugh in delight while pushing her away. “Yes, yes!”
Without looking behind her, Ingrid opened the door and shut it behind her. The windows were open, allowing the wind to blow inside. To her relief, Cassandra didn’t bother to follow her. She grabbed the courtyard key, unlocked it, but the doors were pushed open with a force that knocked her back.
The relief dissipated, and pure horror took its place. Standing in the entrance and blocking her way to freedom was none other than Lady Dimitrescu.
“Poor, poor little Ingrid.” Lady Dimitrescu crooned, her smooth voice laced with venom. Smiling like the cat that got the canary, she grabbed the poor maiden by the neck and lifted her up, unsheathing claws as long as the many swords in the castle.
“You’ve disappointed me for the last time.”
The last thoughts Ingrid had before the claws sliced through her body and everything around her faded to black was:
Forgive me, Mother and Father.
Forgive me, Evanna.
I failed you all.
I failed myself.