The Cursed Graves: Chronicles Of Elya

Prague In The 12th Century Was a City Caught In a Delicate Balance. By Day, Its Narrow Cobbled Streets Bustled With Merchants And Craftsmen, Their Laughter And Bartering Carrying Over The River. By Night, The City Transformed Into Something Entirely Different. The Shadows Seemed Alive, Whispering Secrets That No One Dared To Repeat. 

It Was a Time Of Unrest—Kings Bickered Over Thrones, Nobles Feuded Over Land, And Commoners Scraped By, Hoping To Avoid The Ire Of Both. For Me, However, The City Was A Playground Of Opportunity. My Name Is Elya, And I Had Once Been a Scholar. The Son Of a Modest Bookseller, I Had Lived For The Ink-stained Pages Of Knowledge And The Endless Pursuit Of Wisdom. I Studied Until My Fingers Bled From Turning Ancient Tomes, Dreaming Of One Day Joining The Ranks Of Prague's Most Celebrated Intellectuals. 

But Dreams Shatter Easily When Struck By The Hammer Of Reality. My Father's Sudden Death Left Me Buried In His Debts, With No Means To Pay. The Doors Of The University, Once Open To Me, Closed As Quickly As The Creditors Arrived. Books Would Not Feed Me; Scholarship Would Not Save Me. Desperation Became My Teacher, And She Taught Me The Art Of Survival. 

The Graveyard Became My Classroom. At First, I Dug Graves As An Honest Living—Backbreaking Work But Enough To Keep Me Alive. Yet, As I Stood Among The Tombstones, I Began To Notice The Wealth Buried With The Dead. Rings Of Gold Glinted In The Moonlight, Necklaces Tangled In Skeletal Hands. I Convinced Myself It Was a Victimless Crime. The Dead Had No Use For Such Treasures, But I Did. 

My First Theft Was Small—a Single Ring From An Elderly Merchant's Grave. I Remembered How My Hands Trembled, How I Looked Over My Shoulder Every Second. But The Gold Was Easy To Sell, And The Guilt Faded As Quickly As My Hunger. Soon, I Began To Seek Out The Graves Of The Wealthy Deliberately, Planning My Work Under The Cover Of Darkness. 

It Was On One Such Night, Under A Moon Half-hidden By Clouds, That I Uncovered The Grave Of Ludvik Von Bohemia. 

Ludvik Had Been a Nobleman In Life, Known For His Vast Wealth And His Eccentricities. His Death Decades Earlier Had Been Shrouded In Mystery, And His Name Had Faded Into Legend. I Hadn't Meant To Dig His Grave Specifically; The Cracked Headstone Was Too Worn To Read. But As My Spade Struck The Hard Earth, I Felt Something Different—a Pull, Almost Like An Instinct Urging Me To Continue. 

The Tomb Was Deeper Than Most, Its Walls Reinforced With Heavy Stone. When I Finally Uncovered The Lid, My Lantern Flickered Violently As If Protesting My Actions. The Carvings On The Stone Were Strange—Symbols That Seemed To Writhe In The Dim Light, Shapes That No Language Or Book Had Ever Described. My Heart Raced, But Greed Pressed Me Forward. 

With a Grunt, I Slid The Lid Aside, Revealing a Chest Nestled In The Center Of The Tomb. It Was Small, Made Of Dark Wood Bound With Iron. My Hands Shook As I Lifted It Out, The Weight Of It Unnatural, Almost As Though It Resisted Being Moved. 

Inside Was a Single Object: a Ring, Impossibly Ornate, Its Metal Shimmering In a Way That Seemed Alive. Its Surface Was Etched With Runes That My Scholarly Mind Struggled To Comprehend. It Wasn't Gold Or Silver But Something Older, Something... Other. 

As I Held The Ring, The Air In The Tomb Grew Colder. A Low Hum Filled My Ears, And For a Moment, I Thought I Heard a Voice—Not a Whisper, But a Deep, Guttural Murmur That Reverberated Through My Chest. I Should Have Stopped Then, Should Have Left The Ring And Fled. 

But I Didn't. 

I Pocketed The Artifact And Filled The Grave As Quickly As I Could. The Night Felt Heavier As I Left, The Shadows Longer, The Wind Sharper. By The Time I Returned To My Modest Home On The Outskirts Of The City, I Was Drenched In Sweat. 

Sleep Did Not Come Easily. My Dreams Were Plagued With Strange Images—Faceless Figures Reaching For Me, Their Hands Clawing At The Ring In My Pocket. I Awoke Gasping, The Room Thick With A Suffocating Chill. 

And Then Came The Screams. 

They Started Faintly, Somewhere In The Distance, But Grew Louder And More Frantic. I Rushed To The Window And Saw Movement In The Streets Below. A Woman Stumbled Through The Darkness, Her Hands Clutching Her Throat As Though Trying To Keep Something Unseen At Bay. She Collapsed Before My Eyes, Her Body Twisting Unnaturally As a Shadow Peeled Itself Away From Her And Vanished Into The Night. 

For The First Time, I Felt True Fear—Not For Myself, But For What I Had Done.