Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 25: The Dungeons

The dank corridors stretch before me, and I can’t help but feel a shiver run down my spine as I creep alongside David. His ragged breaths are almost as loud as the pounding of my heart. The air is dense with the stench of dampness, a musty odour that seems to seep into my very bones. My footsteps echo softly on the cold stone floor, and I steal glances at David, who seems to be leading me through this labyrinthine nightmare.

“Please, Arianna, David wheezes and pleads with me for what seems like the hundredth time, “this is a terrible idea. We have to get out of here, while we still can. You have no idea how evil this place is. You‘ only seen the tip of the iceberg. We can escape, we’ll get help, we can send someone else to rescue the other prisoners…”

“No,” I whisper back, my voice determined. “We’re not leaving without the others. And I need to know the truth, no matter how horrifying it might be.”

We descend further, the blue–flamed torches along the walls casting flickering shadows that dance like phantoms. The furnishings grow older, covered in a shroud of dust and neglect. It’s like walking back in time as we go down, down, each floor another century back. The once–decorative features of the castle have now transformed into eerie relics of a forgotten past. The very air seems to cling to my skin like a shroud of death, and I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m descending into an ancient tomb.

And then, as we step into a dimly lit chamber, I realise we’ve entered the catacombs. Rows upon rows of alcoves line the stone walls, carved directly into the black volcanic stone. Each niche has a threadbare greyish white curtain covering its entrance, so worn away and moth–eaten that they are practically see–through, floating on an invisible breeze like sheets of ephemeral gauzy spider’s silk. Like a row of ancient cocoons, every one of the alcoves holds a skeletal figure lying on its back, adorned in decaying remnants of mediaeval clothing, the hands folded over their empty chests as though in a deep and peaceful sleep. A chorus of glowing crimson eyes glints in the

+10 torchlight, gazing up at nothingness. It takes me a moment to realise that each skull’s empty eye sockets have a pair of large shimmering rubies embedded within, as though the bloodthirsty skeletons are gazing out at the world through a sea of blood.

Delightful.

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The sight is both morbid and mesmerising, as if time itself has been suspended in this chilling place. Bone dust and the scent of decay fill my nostrils, and I can almost taste the ages that these skeletons have witnessed. The floor below is damp and slippery, and I have to steady myself as I creep forward.

“We’re close,” David mutters, his voice trembling as much as his hands. We continue, and finally,

Chapter 25: The Dungeons

after what seems like an eternity, we descend one final level and we reach the dungeons. My heart races with a mix of dread and determination.

The coldness of the dungeons envelops me as I step inside. The scene before me is a gruesome tableau of suffering and despair. Rusty chains dangle from the walls, and old torture devices evoke a history of unspeakable pain. A row of wooden buckets are lined up along the far wall, their contents too horrible to contemplate. The stench is overwhelming – a nauseating blend of human waste, rotten flesh, disease and the metallic tang of old blood. My stomach churns, but I force myself to keep moving forward.

Most of the cell doors are firmly shut, but one stands open, a gaping maw into the abyss. That must be David’s cell.

Then I hear a whimpering, coming from one of the locked cells. The figure inside is barely visible, shackled and moaning softly. I rush forward, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice trembling.

“Can you hear me?”

The response is a feeble, unintelligible murmur. I grab the cell door and rattle it, hoping against hope that it will give way. It doesn’t. It’s locked tight, a cruel barrier between freedom and this tortured soul. I strain my eyes, squinting into the shadows at the back of the cell, trying to see the captive’s face.

“Are you an angel?” the figure whispers, their voice filled with desperate hope. “Or a devil?”

Before I can respond, a chilling gust of air rushes through the dungeon, icy tendrils snaking their way around us. David cries out, his terror palpable as he retreats further into the shadows.

“They’re back! No!” he exclaims, his voice fraught with fear.

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I turn to the doorway, and dread courses through me like a cold current. The shadowy di grows darker, and then Aleksandr steps into veiw, flanked by Konstantin and Anya. I star my anger and betrayal bubbling to the surface.

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“Arianna, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice laced with surprise.

“Finding out the truth,” I hiss, my voice a venomous whisper. “You lied to me.”

Aleksandr takes a step toward me, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Arianna, please believe me. You’re in danger. Step away from him.”

Chapter 25: The Dungeons

The thought of the broken, emaciated man cowering at my back being dangerous in any way at all is laughable. David’s vulnerability evokes a protective instinct in me. I raise my fists, ready to

defend him if necessary, shielding him from the monsters closing in on us.

“He’s dangerous, Arianna,” Aleksandr insists, his tone weighted with an unspoken warning. He sounds sincere, and there’s real fear in his eyes, an edge of anxiety I haven’t seen before.

“The only danger I see is coming from your family, I retort, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

“The man you’re shielding isn’t who you think he is,” Konstantin interjects.

“Listen to them, girl,” Anya adds, a strange fear glinting in her eyes. “Come closer to us. Start walking.”

“And why the hell would I ever want to do that?” I challenge, my defiance masking my fear.

“To avoid becoming a skewered decoration on my rusty shiv, you stupid little girl, David’s voice morphs into something cold and menacing. In an instant, a cold, sharp blade presses against my neck, the metal icy against my skin as he hovers behind me. In an instant, the tables have turned, and I realise I’m his captive.

“Back away from the doorway, or I’ll turn this sweet young lady into a bloody shish kabob,” David commands the vampires, his voice dripping with malice. “She and I are leaving. Which way to the exit, bloodsuckers?”

I feel a mixture of terror and anger surge within me. How did I let this happen? I’m trapped, held hostage by the very man I sought to save.

“Don’t think I won’t do it!” David growls, an edge of desperation colouring his voice. He presses the blade into my throat, and I feel a sharp sting as the metal bites into my flesh. A trickle of +10 blood seeps from the wound, trailing down my

neck.

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My eyes lock onto Aleksandr’s, searching for a shred of the man I thought I knew. But all I see i07:0 web of secrets and lies, entangling us all in a deadly dance.

And in that moment, in that split second before life and death, Aleksandr makes his move.

Chapter 26: Into the Night

A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins as witness the horrifying swiftness of Aleksandrs actions. In the blink of an eye, hex upon David, and the violence that unfolds before me is utterly horrifying. David is flung against the wall with such force that the sickening crunch of breaking bones echoes in the dungeon. His neck is clearly boken, his head at an impossible angle, one arm twisted out of its socket, a bloody smear on the wall where his lifeless body slid down the stones, now slumped on the floor.

My voice escapes me in a horrified whisper, “Oh my god, you killed him. My hands tremble, and my legs feel weak as I stare at the lifeless, bloodied heap that used to be a man.

“And he would have killed you, had I not,” Aleksandr says His eyes dark and intense, approaches me, his hand reaching out in what I assume is meant to be a comforting gesture. But I cringe away from his touch, recoiling from the violence I’ve just witnessed.

My voice trembles with accusation as I confront them, my gaze hard and unwavering. This doesn’t change anything,” I say bitterly. “You lied to me, you all did.”

Anya and Konstantin, standing by the doorway, bear the weight of my gaze as I accuse them. “You said you only drink from donated blood in blood banks, I remind them. “That’s what you told me in the library, Aleksandr. You lied.”

The air in the dungeon seems to thicken with tension as I challenge them. My eyes dart between them, waiting for an explanation, an admission of their deception.

Aleksandr, his voice unwavering, counters my accusation, “You’re mistaken, Arianna. I never lied. What I told you about our diet is the truth the Vasieliev family drink only from blood banks, blood given freely and with love, by the choice of the giver. But we had to cater for the guests at tonight’s Blood Moon Ball. Most of our kind insist on drinking fresh blood from a human. There aren’t many who are as…” he pauses for a moment, maybe struggling to find the right word This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

…open–minded as the Vasiliev family.”

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I’m incredulous, my voice filled with disbelief. “But I saw those men down here! They’re covered in scars and bruises, emaciated. You’re telling me you only brought them here for tonight? Well. they’ve obviously been there longer than that. You’ve been feeding on them, on humans.”

Anya interrupts, her tone chillingly casual, as if discussing the weather. “Think about it, child. When guests drop in unexpectedly, it’s rude not to have snacks on hand. We’ve kept these men, if you can even call them that, in storage for events such as tonight. We’ve been keeping them on hand, as your kind might keep a box of crackers or potato crisps in a kitchen cupboard in the event that they are suddenly needed when acquaintances come to visit. We aim to be good hosts,

Chapter 26: Into the Night

after all. What sort of host doesn’t feed their guests?”

My shock and horror render me speechless. The revelation that the Vasiliev family has been using innocent people as a source of sustenance, as if they were nothing more than cattle, is beyond my worst nightmares.

Anya continues, her voice dripping with contempt, “But before you start feeling sorry for this pathetic mongrel, know this – we only prey on bad people. Very, very bad people the worst of the

worst.”

I want to r

reject her words, to believe that this is some twisted lie, but the memory of David’s transformation and the pure evil malice in his eyes as he took me hostage haunts me. Anya’s words begin to sink in, and I’m filled with a mixture of revulsion and disbelief.

She saunters over to David’s lifeless body where it is slumped against the back wall of the dungeon, and to my surprise she kicks it, sneering down at him.

A wave of nausea crashes over me. “This is monstrous,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

But the revelations keep coming.

“I’m sure this pig told you all about his big important job at Silverscope Medical Centre, what an impressive stand up member of society he was, how we lured him and stole him away…” she says, her voice laced with venom. “But what he didn’t tell you is why we hired him in that position in the first place, a position where he’d be close to us, needing to take regular business trips. You see, before we brought him here to the Castle of Endless Night, David was one of the UK’s most active and prolific serial killers. He particularly enjoyed stalking, torturing and killing young women, such as yourself. The authorities never had any idea, and his final kill was actually just two days before we finally “made him disappear,” so to speak. No one suspected a thing, but we have our sources, and we knew what he was. He’s always been so good at playing the nice guy, pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. He even had you fooled back there.”

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I want to believe that Anya is lying to me, but the way that David’s whole demeanour changed th moment he felt backed into a corner – the way he so easily switched in the blink of an eye and took me hostage my gut tells me that she’s telling me the truth.

“And Reggie over there, in the cell to your left,” Anya says cooly, indicating the cell I was peering into earlier, “who is now very wisely staying quiet as a mouse, while the cats are in the room

well, he’s a convicted rapist, and his victims number in the hundreds. He got away with it for decades, and when human law finally caught up with him, it was an absolute joke. A farce. The bastard was living like a king in a federal prison in Texas. What sort of justice is that? We thought he’d be put to better use as a personal blood bank. But, as Aleksandr said earlier, we only hunt down and keep these monstrosities as food sources for visiting guests. We ourselves prefer to