Eternal Dance

The forest grew colder each winter, and Petyr longed for the years when the castle’s warmth made him feel safe. He stalked its ruins, haunted by echoes of ballroom dances and faces long dead. At night, he hunted like a beast, but his prey grew scarce, wary of his curse. Through broken window glass, he watched their torchlight grow closer.

The snow-covered walls shook as the ancient door crumbled under their weapons. Dozens poured into the ballroom, their cries echoing, seeking vengeance for souls he’d claimed. From the shadows, Petyr stepped into view, laughter wicked and fangs sharp.

The castle would host another dance tonight.