This night is a very long one for our young heiress.

An unpleasant dream woke her up in the middle of the night. The air carried the sweet scent of her perfumes mixed with candle smoke. The full moon shone brightly in the unclouded sky but not even the faintest hint of light could seep through the crimson, velvet curtains of the noblewoman’s bedroom. It was drowned in darkness with the exception of the far end of the room. A window was left open there, allowing the moonlight to bathe some of the furniture in its pale glow. The table, with the flowers and writing utensils arranged upon it, the chairs and the curtains flowing in the gentle wind cast creepy, long shadows that stretched into the surrounding dark. The old castle echoed with weird, barely audible and unrecognizable sounds – fodder for the darkest parts of one’s imagination.

Nina let out a quiet whimper when she opened her eyes and realized that the candles she left burning were out. “It must have been the wind” she thought. “Oh, why didn’t close that window?” On second thought, she didn’t remember it being open when she was going to bed.

The woman tried to remain calm. There was nothing to be afraid of, after all, was there? The sounds? Well, not everyone went to sleep in the evening. In fact, some had to work throughout the whole night; guards for example. The shadows? They were nothing but the absence of light, a common, natural phenomenon and certainly nothing to be afraid of. Something… no, someone could be hiding out there but he would have to enter her apartment first and the door was locked.

Still, deep within the heart of this proud woman cowered a little girl; a girl who never grew up; a girl who never believed when adults told her there was nothing to be afraid of. She simply knew better. She knew that at night things whispered to lonely people, wailing their complaints, making false promises and hissing threats (some of which were hollow). One just had to know how to listen. The little, unlearned Nina knew well that darkness was much more than the absence of light. It was alive, it was as old as time itself and it was watching. If you looked at it and focused, you could see the waver of its breathing. The shadows were home to many other things too; things that grandma used to talk about. Vile and unholy, they lurked under the beds of spoiled, little girls - like herself - or just beyond the corner of one’s vision. Nina could almost feel their presence.

Ever so slowly, as if not to alarm anything of her presence, clutching her pillow, she curled into a fetal position with her back against the headboard of the canopied bed. Her slender, almost completely bare frame shivered with each subtle blow of the cool breeze. She stifled a childish whimper every time she imagined noticing some unexplained movement in the stillness surrounding her. There was no helping it. When she was left alone in the dark, Nina von Kaltenbach was always paralyzed with fear.

Her body froze and her heart skipped a beat when she felt the mattress of her bed strain against the weight of someone (something?) she could not see. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the weight shifted, moving closer and closer to where she was sitting. It took all of her courage to utter a short question, though it came out as a quiet shrill of a child scared to ****.

“Is… Is anyone there?”

The very moment she spoke, the movement stopped and she was no longer sure if it was ever there. The air seemed to grow heavy as she counted the long seconds of silence. And then she heard it. She felt it. A soft brush of warm air against her neck. A breath.