Chapter 2

"An Ode to the One I'd Loved, Be Gone, Beloved."

Winter's chill gripped the mountain top, where a lone cottage stood resilient against the West cliff's edge. Its sturdy foundation set it apart from the other town dwellings. Behind the cottage, a young girl trudged through deep snow, her boots crunching on frozen crystals. She wore gloves and a thick green sweater, black trousers clinging to her legs as she hauled fallen branches into the backyard.

Her messy blonde hair danced in the morning breeze, which carried whispers of snowflakes onto her head. "That should last us through the night," she muttered, dropping the branches and reaching for an axe nestled among the log pile.

As she began to chop wood, a murder of crows erupted from the forest, their raucous calls – like rusty gate hinges – sending a shiver down her spine.

Rumors swirled through the town of colossal creatures lurking deep within the forest, capable of rending a man asunder, sent fear into the heart of even the bravest townsfolk. Others spoke of beasts that laired in the shadows, waiting to strike down unsuspecting hunters with a single swipe of their claws. But one legend towered above the rest: the Vampire of the Forgotten Castle, said to reside in a long-abandoned stronghold, hidden deep within the forest's heart.

These tales were often spun by monster hunters, who ventured into the woods to slay beasts for coin or glory. Yet, none dared to approach the "Cursed Mansion," and even fewer would dare to delve deeper into the forest, seeking the ancient vampire's lair. For in those woods, even the boldest warriors feared to tread, knowing the wolves would be the first to strike them down.

"Bella..."

Yet, Rumors would always be Rumors. With all these tale, no one had actually seen the Vampire.

"Bella...."

The call came again, more insistent this time. "Belladonna!"

She jolted, turning to face the backyard door, where her aunt's worried face peered out. "Pacing out again, huh? And why would you venture out in this cold morning? I told you Mr. Headstone promised to bring and add some logs to ours from town."

Belladonna offered a soft smile. "But Aunt Mae, these branches have useful sticks, better than heavy logs."

Aunt Mae, forty-five, had been Belladonna's constant support and confidante since childhood, a steady presence in her life despite the lingering mystery of her parents' death years ago. Though Belladonna knew her aunt wasn't ready to reveal the truth, she was grateful for her extensive network of friends in the town, which made it easier to procure supplies on credit or receive timely deliveries.

As winter set in, the farm's yield dwindled, and Mr. Headstone, the town's primary provider, became even more vital. He employed men to harvest wood from the forest, and each week, a group would pass by the cottage, venturing deeper into the woods. Renowned for his exceptional hunting skills, Headstone consistently returned with over ten game animals, graciously leaving one or two at Mae's doorstep as he passed by. In the town, coins could purchase wood for warmth and food from the neighboring village, a necessity as winter's ferocity made forest excursions increasingly perilous.

"You've made another pair of trousers," Aunt Mae observed, eyeing her niece's handiwork with a mix of amusement and admiration. "Yes, I repurposed material from your old clothes..."

"No wonder they look familiar!" Aunt Mae chuckled. "Anyway, come in, it's colder than you think. Dust off your shoes and warm up with some hot soup. There's fresh bread on the counter too."

Belladonna nodded and entered the cozy room, but her attention was soon diverted to her aunt's attire – a fine cream-colored gown with puffed sleeves, a departure from her usual practical clothing. "Are you going out?" Belladonna asked, curiosity piqued.

Aunt Mae replied from her room, "Yes, Master Lucas invited me to meet a wealthy merchant a few kilometers from town. He's offered some items for sale, but needs guidance on their value... Did you dust your shoes?"

Belladonna hastily removed her boots, hopping on one foot as she flung them outside. "Done!" she exclaimed, then quickly changed into a comfortable pair of laced shoes arranged on the hairy red rug.

Aunt Mae had built the cottage herself, with hints of additional help along the way. Over the years, Belladonna had observed that the wood remained remarkably resilient, resisting rot and termite damage even in rainy weather - a testament to its exceptional quality and durability. The cozy cottage featured a multifunctional living room serving as kitchen, dining area, and hub of warmth. Two bedrooms and a small bathroom completed the layout, showcasing brilliant architectural design.

In the Two brown chairs, adorned with vintage floral patterns and elegant curves, stood opposite each other, inviting relaxation. A fireplace crackled, warming the space and heating a savory pot of soup on a tripod. Snowflakes clung to the sealed window, but the fire's warmth rendered it insignificant. The front door, opposite the back entrance, led into the spacious living room, where Belladonna retrieved a deep dish from the nearby cupboard and headed towards the pot. Freshly baked bread sat on the table opposite the fireplace, with a few flour stains on the rug.

Aunt Mae emerged from her room, carrying a bag that matched her elegant dress. Her high-heeled boots accentuated her statuesque height, and she adjusted her bon hairdo while gazing at Belladonna, who carefully ladled soup into a bowl. "Belladonna," she called softly.

"Yes?" Belladonna replied.

"I'll be back by evening. Please deliver the berries I gathered to Miss Rosemary. You can stay with the doctor or lend him a hand if needed. But remember, don't venture into the woods. Understood?"

Belladonna nodded, familiar with this warning.

As Aunt Mae prepared to leave, the sound of a carriage arriving hastened her departure. Before rushing out, she reiterated, "Belladonna, no running around causing trouble. You're nineteen now, and remember, no matter what, stay away from the woods and the hunter's lodge." Belladonna nodded, drawing out, "I'm not a child."

Aunt Mae didn't respond, simply saying, "Stay safe, dear," before leaving. Belladonna stuffed a slice of warm bread into her mouth, chewing without ceremony. She had plans for the day and needed to hurry her meal. Glancing at the clock, which read 8:30, she wondered if Aunt Mae had taken breakfast.

****

In the town of Evergreen, where greenery thrived despite the harshest weather, Belladonna made her way through the bustling streets. She changed her outfit to a heavy long sleeved green gown reaching her knee, and black boots. With the basket in her hand, filled with fresh berries and homemade jam, was destined for Rosemary, the town's skilled seamstress. The air was alive with the sounds of children's laughter, musicians' flutes, and the clinking of coins. Beautiful women, their pride palpable, strolled by, seemingly impervious to the challenges of their elaborate gowns.

A group of ladies, struggling to walk in their large gowns, caught Belladonna's attention. Despite their evident discomfort, they laughed at jokes that seemed less funny, their pride unchecked. Shuddering, Belladonna continued on her way to Rosemary's home, passing by the Hunter's Lodge. The lodge served as a hub for hunters seeking quests or respite, and it was there that she overheard two men dressed as peasants.

"I don't understand," one said quietly, "how a half-vampire can walk among us, and no one seems to care. He's even a vampire hunter, preying on his own kind."

The second man shrugged. "He came from afar, but his pallid skin and cold gaze betrayed his true nature. He's no ordinary human."

The first man added, "Mister Headstone requested his presence, so something's amiss. Something we townsfolk aren't privy to."

Belladonna's ears picked up every word as the two men walked away from the door, each lost in their own concerns. The last phrase she heard sent a shiver down her spine: "I hope he doesn't drain one of us of blood." Ignoring Aunt Mae's warning, Belladonna's curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped into the Hunter's Lodge. The bustling atmosphere inside was a stark contrast to the early morning hour. Men and women haggled over quests and enjoyed what appeared to be breakfast. Belladonna approached Mr. Ernest, the burly, bearded man behind the table. "Mr. Ernest!" she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming.

"Mae's Niece! What brings you here? Surely, you're not looking for quests?" He chuckled.

Belladonna shook her head. "I need to see Mr. Headstone."

Before she knew it, the words had left her lips.

"Oh, he's in a meeting with a Vampire Hunter." Mr. Ernest replied, his expression serious. "You can wait, but don't disturb him. He's upstairs."

Without hesitation, Belladonna climbed the stairs, marveling at how the noise level decreased with each step. Mr. Headstone's office was easy to find, being the only room upstairs. She walked down the small corridor, noticing the holes in the planks. Upon reaching the door with Mr. Headstone's name on it, she set the basket of berries and jam on the waiting chair beside the door.

A deep, resonating voice sent shivers down her spine. "Creatures, beasts, more like demons, devourers of souls, dwell in the mansion, their sanctuary." It wasn't Mr. Headstone's calm voice; it belonged to another - the Vampire Hunter the men had spoken about. Belladonna peered through the keyhole, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Inside, she saw Mr. Headstone sitting with a serious expression, his fingers supporting the weight of his head. Beside him stood a towering figure draped in a black cloak, his physique obscured. His deep voice was laced with an elegant, poetic rhythm. "Yes," Headstone replied, "I heard of a wealthy merchant who lures people to his mansion to purchase items... only to kill them afterwards."

Belladonna gasped, her heart racing. Aunt Mae had spoken of this before leaving... Would that mean....

"Who's by the door?." The Vampire hunter suddenly asked.