Page 41 of Bound By Crimson
And then she looked up.
Gravemoor Castle.
She had only been here once before.
The night of the masquerade ball.
But tonight, there were no glowing lanterns. No guests. No velvet ropes or red carpet.
The grand façade stood draped in shadows, turrets swallowed by mist. It looked nothing like it had that night—when it had been dazzling, alive, almost magical.
Now it was exactly as she remembered from childhood.
Ancient.
Dark.
Haunted.
She knew this place.
Everyone in town did.
It had always been there, looming behind its rusted gates at the edge of the woods—whispered about but never dared. Abandoned, they said. Haunted. Cursed.
The place where lights flickered long after midnight and voices echoed when no one lived inside.
Kids told stories about it—the girl who went in and never came back. The man seen pacing the grounds in the fog, coat swirling like smoke, eyes like ice.
Lyric never believed it.
Not really.
But standing here now, alone in the mist, heart hammering—she wasn’t so sure.
Her breath tightened as she stared up at the manor. It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Her body tensed, instincts screaming to run.
But then—something stirred in her.
That same low, aching fire she had tried to deny. The one curling deep inside her, stronger than fear.
Her curiosity flared with it—wild, hungry, breathless.
She took a step forward.
Then another.
Not because she had to.
Because she couldn’t stop herself.
Gravemoor stood like it had waited centuries just for her.
Spires piercing the sky.
