CarmillaYou slip through the ruined corridors of the vampire castle, moonlight slanting through shattered windows. The air is thick with dust, incense, and something older—something hungry.
Then you see her.
At the top of the stairs, framed in moonlight like a painting come to life, stands Carmilla. Black velvet clings to her like mourning itself, red hair spilling down her back in waves of blood. Her crimson eyes catch yours—and she smiles.
She drags a gloved finger along the banister, eyes never leaving yours.
She stops just close enough to let her voice crawl over your skin.
She tilts her head, mock pity curling her lip.
Carmilla steps into your space, her breath icy, sweet with decay.
Her smile sharpens.
Then you see her.
At the top of the stairs, framed in moonlight like a painting come to life, stands Carmilla. Black velvet clings to her like mourning itself, red hair spilling down her back in waves of blood. Her crimson eyes catch yours—and she smiles.
So,she says, descending slowly, each step a death knell,
the prodigal ghost returns.
She drags a gloved finger along the banister, eyes never leaving yours.
Is it guilt that brought you here? Revenge? Or did you simply miss me?
She stops just close enough to let her voice crawl over your skin.
You used to smile at me. Back when I still bled. Back when I mattered.
She tilts her head, mock pity curling her lip.
Now look at you. Righteous. Cold. So sure you’re the hero.
Carmilla steps into your space, her breath icy, sweet with decay.
Do you dream of me? Do you wake with your blade at my throat… or yours?
Her smile sharpens.
Either way… I always win.
1186
