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Beyond seven mountains and seven forests, where the sun hid behind a fiery horizon, stood a castle, and in it lived a beautiful princess. It was said that a curse bound her, preventing her from leaving the castle walls, and that her beauty outshone anything a human could ever dream of. Many brave souls had followed the path to free the princess and claim the reward, but they did not know that the walls surrounding everything concealed terrible secrets.
This story begins like a fairy tale but ends like a nightmare...
On a cold morning shrouded in mist, Elian, a knight with a sword at his side and courage in his heart, made his way toward the castle. A mountainous landscape surrounded him, resembling a dead land, with no living being to oppose him. The castle walls rose to the sky like rusted blades, ready to cut through the very fabric of the world.
The castle looked as if it were inviting him in for reasons unknown. The massive doors, worn with time, opened on their own, silently, as if they had been waiting for him. When he crossed the threshold, the castle's interior stunned him—he saw magnificent murals on the walls and gilded decorations that gently reflected the torchlight.
But something was wrong. As Elian ventured deeper into the corridors, a strange atmosphere began to surround him. Despite the appearance of beauty, everything felt too neglected and forgotten. The echo drifting through the halls was distorted. As he went further, he began to notice small details—slight cracks in the walls, stains on the silk curtains, wind howling through the air.
Still unaware of the true nature of this place, Elian pressed on. He hoped to find the princess, though he didn’t know what to expect. But when the doors to the throne room opened, his hope began to slowly fade.
In the throne room, dead silence reigned, as if time had come to a standstill. It appeared abandoned, and yet unnaturally perfect. The golden decorations on the old, forsaken chairs gleamed, but emitted no warmth. At the very centre stood a massive throne, adorned with intricate carvings, on which no one had sat in centuries. Elian felt a chill run down his spine, as though something were watching him.
In the corner of the room near the windows, he noticed a shadow that seemed to move. He approached cautiously, sword ready. And then he saw her.
The princess was nothing like Elian had imagined. She stood as if under a spell, looking at him with sadness in her eyes. Her gown, though light and flowing, seemed to belong to another era. Her hair shone, yet there was something lifeless about it, as if it did not belong to a living being. When she looked at him, his heart beat faster—not from awe, but from fear. Her gaze was as empty as an endless, bottomless abyss.
"Welcome, Knight," her voice was quiet, echoing off the castle walls. "You won't escape. No one ever has."
Elian stepped closer, but before he could speak, the castle began to tremble, as if everything around him shuddered beneath his feet. The once-still walls began to crack with a sharp sound. The air was thick with the scent of magic—powerful, dark magic.
"Tell me, princess," Elian asked, uncertain whether his words would reach her, "How can I help you? How can I break the curse?"
The princess looked at him with a cold gaze that pierced him to the bone.
"You don't understand. It is not a curse that holds me here, knight. It is my fate. This castle is not my prison—it is my home. And you cannot set me free. Because I am not the one you're looking for."
Elian stood frozen, staring at her in disbelief as she finished speaking.
"You came for me?" Her voice was like an icy wind cutting through the air. You think you came to rescue me, but I am not the one in danger. It is all of you. You who tread upon land forgotten by the living."
Elian realised that the castle, which at first was full of promise, was nothing more than an illusion. The beautiful princess was only part of a plan to lure him inside, and he now understood he was trapped. He tried to flee, but the castle was a maze with no exit. Every door led him back to the same hallways, as if the structure itself was toying with him, laughing at his helplessness. The stone walls, overgrown with rotting moss, seemed to breathe. Every step he took echoed endlessly.
He always returned to the same place—the throne room. Where she was waiting for him.
The castle was becoming more and more of a trap for him. He felt his own will slowly weaken, each part of him gradually yielding to this place. The princess—whom he now saw differently—was no longer just the object of his desire. With every passing moment, she gained more control over his mind. She knew him inside and out. She knew his fears, his unease. Her words, full of secrets, pierced him like rusted nails. Her presence grew increasingly terrifying, as if each encounter with her left a bloody mark on his soul.
As the hours passed, Elian began to notice things he had previously overlooked. Mirrors—everywhere his eyes turned. Tall, adorned with strange gilding and gleaming with an unnatural light. But the worst were the reflexions.
They didn’t show the princess as they should. Her face in them was… different. Distorted. As if something pulsed beneath her skin, as if her beauty were just a thin mask concealing something else. Sometimes, when he looked out of the corner of his eye, he saw shadows in the mirrors moving slowly around her, even though she stood completely still. Shadows that didn’t belong to her taking on monstrous shapes.
Or maybe… maybe they did belong to her? He could no longer be sure of what he was seeing.
When he asked her about it one evening, sitting across from her by the fireplace, she only smiled.
"Mirrors sometimes lie, Elian," she whispered with amusement. "Not everything you see is true."
Her voice was soft, melodic, but it sounded like a blade sliding across glass.
He felt like a prisoner of this place. It wasn’t bars that held him there, nor any chains, but something far worse. Something he couldn’t name. With each passing day, the fortress seemed to draw him in deeper, as if it were a living organism—and he was slowly becoming part of it.
But Elian did not intend to surrender without a fight.
He began to explore corridors he hadn’t walked before. The castle’s interior seemed to shift, as though the walls were moving, closing off certain paths and opening others. In some rooms, the silence was so profound he could hear only his own thoughts. In others, he had the distinct feeling that something was there. Something breathing in the darkness.
He found himself in one of the dust-covered rooms, where old furniture lay abandoned like bodies after a battle. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like strips of skin, and the air was heavy with the mouldy scent of forgetfulness.
And then he saw it—a portrait.
It hung alone on the wall, faded, almost devoured by time. It portrayed a man with stern facial features and eyes in which a shadow of sorrow lurked. But it wasn't him who caught Elian's attention—it was something behind him.
In the background of the painting, in a dense shadow, stood a figure. Vague, blurred, almost invisible at first glance. And yet, as Elian stepped closer, his heart beat faster. He had the feeling that the figure had seen him, that it was looking straight at him—and smiling.
A voice echoed in his mind, whispering that he was no longer human. That he was nearing the moment when he would no longer be able to distinguish himself from the monster.
He moved on. This time, he entered a chamber he hadn’t noticed before. It was hidden behind a door that had suddenly appeared. Inside, he saw a sight that shook him to the core: the room’s walls were covered in faces. Each one was different, but they all shared one thing—their expressions. Their eyes conveyed despair, pain, and fear, as if these faces were made of stone, yet alive, breathing, and feeling.
Elian stood paralysed, staring at the faces that seemed to be watching him. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and a soft sob escaped his lips. He felt he could no longer stay, but at the same time, something held him there, refusing to let him go.
Suddenly, he heard a faint whisper—a voice filled with fear and desperation, but also carrying a warning: Run, while you still can.
He shuddered. When he looked in the direction the voice had come from, he saw no one. The faces on the wall remained motionless, yet something in their eyes suggested the warning had been real. He had to leave, but his legs seemed frozen. For a moment, he felt he couldn’t escape, as if the castle’s very evil held him in place.
Elian ran from the chamber. His heart pounded, and his thoughts raced with what he had just seen. But it wasn’t long before he once again stood face to face with the Princess.
“I know you’re afraid, Elian,” she said, standing in the doorway of one of the chambers. Her tone was soft, soothing, as if trying to erase all doubts from her mind. “But this is not a place for the weak. This place is my home—and it could be yours too.”
“What is happening here?” he asked, trying to keep calm, though his voice betrayed his unease. “Why are those faces on the walls? What happened to them?”
“It’s nothing, Elian,” she replied, though her voice sounded less convincing. Those faces are just memories, shadows of the past. You don’t need to worry about them. Stay here. Forget everything that was outside. Forget the world you left behind. Only in this castle will you find peace.”
Her gentle words only deepened Elian’s dread. He felt as if she were trying to draw him into a snare from which there was no escape. And that voice that wouldn’t stop trembling in his mind—Run, while you still can...—the voice from the face in the stone. He felt there was no turning back.
With each passing moment, a piece of the castle was seeping into his body and mind. He no longer knew where he ended and where the castle began. Every attempt to escape ended in the same cursed place that was swallowing him more and more.
After another sleepless night full of terrifying dreams, Elian stumbled upon something that might be the key to understanding. He found an old book, dusty and torn in places. It had appeared out of nowhere beside his bed. Its pages revealed dark secrets, answers to all the questions that haunted his mind.
The castle... fed on souls. Everyone who entered became a part of the place. Those who stayed too long didn’t die—they became part of the structure. Their souls were absorbed, and their bodies turned to stone, becoming pieces of the fortress they once tried to escape.
“This is your place, Elian,” the Princess told him. She was not the victim he thought she was. She was the Beast—cursed to bring the castle new souls. Perhaps she was a prisoner too, but her role was different: to lure new victims, lead them through corridors of lies, until they became a part of the castle forever.
“You’ll always be here. This is your destiny, Elian. The castle has chosen you, and now you must become part of it.”
Elian felt the words tear something apart inside him. He knew he was nearing the end of this journey, but he felt powerless, as if all his attempts to escape had been in vain. The castle had him in its claws, and it was no longer just about whether he would manage to leave. His body had begun to change. His skin, when he looked at it, seemed harder, rough like stone, as if it were absorbing everything that had once been soft and alive. His hands had grown cold, as if touched by shadows from the past, and his eyes... darkness lurked deep within them.
He understood—he was no longer Elian, the man who had come to the castle with hope of a better life. The castle had consumed him, was turning him into something that had no right to exist.
The Princess approached him slowly, looking at him with an expression Elian recognised—it wasn’t pity, it was something else. She couldn’t help. She was just as trapped as he was, though her curse was different—she was the Beast.
"This won’t end, Elian," she said. The castle won’t let you go. Everyone who ends up here stays forever. And you... you’ve become part of it. "You know that, don’t you?"
He closed his eyes. He could feel his body still changing into something inhuman, how the stone and darkness were swallowing him whole. Though he could still think, still feel, he knew there was no saving him. The castle had him, and he could no longer escape.
The Princess was the guardian, and he... he had become another victim of this place, another soul to be devoured by stone and shadow.
Elian felt that time was slipping away, and he himself would soon disappear, just like those before him. When he returned to his chamber, he looked through the old book once more. The writings spoke of a way to break the curse. The curse was tied to Beauty—she was the Beast of this castle, but also its heart. To destroy the curse, she had to be killed. Only then would the castle lose its power, and the stones that absorbed souls would cease to feed on life.
It was shocking. With every word he read, Elian began to understand that Beauty was a prisoner just like he was. But she was not powerless. She was the central part of this cursed estate. Without her, the castle would cease to exist—but her death would bring about its destruction.
He teetered on the edge of despair. On the one hand, he knew that to save himself, he would have to kill her, but on the other, she was part of the curse, and her presence still gave him hope. He saw how strong her desire was to stay, to endure with him in this cursed world. The castle offered him a life that was not truly a life, and Beauty begged him to give in to it, for them to stay together—forever.
When he met her again, she was there, in the chamber, always full of that same dark elegance.
“Elian,” she said softly, her voice carrying sadness, and perhaps a strange kind of hope. “I know what you discovered. I know you intend to kill me. But don’t do it. If you want, you can stay here with me. Together… you won’t have to be afraid. The castle isn’t so frightening any more when we have each other. We can be together. Forever. All doubts will vanish, everything from the outside world will fade. Just you and me, eternally.”
Her words, full of warmth, seemed to seep into him, making him think—if only for a moment—that maybe this was the solution. He stopped being afraid of the place. What would he even do outside, in that cruel world? The castle, though dark, gave him everything he needed. Beauty was with him. And wasn’t that what mattered most? He wouldn’t have to run, wouldn’t have to battle loneliness. Every time he looked into her eyes, doubt crept in.
But then he remembered—the castle was not a home, it was a prison. And Beauty was the Beast, not the victim. There was no future in the castle. It devoured people, turning them into its own, swallowed by time and space. This was not life.
And so, he made a decision. Though every cell in his body resisted it, he knew what he had to do.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and there was despair in his voice. This is the only way. I choose freedom, even if it costs me my life.”
Beauty didn’t look away. Instead, her eyes filled with quiet acceptance.
“I know,” she replied, and looked at him with a gaze full of relief. “I know it’s the end.”
He stepped closer to her, feeling her presence fill the room, as if everything in the castle had become unreal. With her death, everything was supposed to end—but that also meant the end of their shared world. Beauty had been in this castle for centuries, forced to be its Beast, its imprisoned soul.
With his hand gripping the blade, Elian struck a blow that sliced through the air.
When Beauty collapsed to the ground, her body began to crumble, like withered flower petals scattering in the wind. The castle trembled, as if its very existence had been torn apart in one vast, shuddering scream that echoed off the walls. The stone cracked in shock, and the walls crumbled into rubble, as if the castle could no longer bear its own weight. The entire space around Elian turned to dust, rising into the air and vanishing into the dark abyss. The castle was dying—and with it, all who had been trapped within its shadowed halls, sinking into oblivion.
Elian ran, feeling the castle’s powerful magic—like unseen threads—trying to pull him back. He barely managed to escape through the collapsing corridors, and finally, the ruined castle shattered into fragments. Elian fell to the ground, exhausted, barely alive—but free.
Elian felt his whole being torn apart. Though he had escaped the crumbling castle, he knew he could never escape what lingered inside him. What he had lived through could not be forgotten—not by him, nor by the cursed world that had birthed that place. The castle that had consumed him, devoured his soul, was not just a dead structure. It was something that still lived in his heart, in his mind.
For a moment, he stood on the edge of exhaustion, gazing at the ruins. Beauty, her death, everything he had done—it all mattered now, but not in the way he had imagined. Destroying the castle, the thing he had longed for all this time, had not brought him peace. He had broken the curse, but he had also destroyed a piece of that world. She had given him hope for a better life, even if it meant being trapped in that cursed place. She had been part of the same curse—but now, by killing her, he had stripped himself of every illusion.
He looked into the distance, at a new wanderer approaching the chasm where the castle once stood. A new victim? Or just another innocent traveller who had stumbled upon the remnants of a ruined tale. Elian felt bitterness—but also relief. It was the end of that story.
But was it the end of his own journey? He had survived—true—but in what sense? The castle was gone. The Beautiful Beast was dead. Yet Elian knew he no longer had a past. The life that had once been full of hope was now just a memory in a shattered world. All that remained was emptiness.
Perhaps he was no longer human. Perhaps he never was. Perhaps from the beginning he had only been a shadow, wandering this cursed world.
Time passed, and in his heart, a flicker of hope still burned. For something, he couldn't name. For peace. For life. Maybe for a new beginning—though he seemed to know that what he had experienced could never be erased. The castle, the beauty, even what he had become—these things would live inside him forever.
But at least he had freedom. Even if it was freedom amongst ruins, amongst the shadows of the past, it was still his freedom. And now, he was the one who would choose what to do with it.
And so, the story of the Beautiful Beast and Elian came to an end. But was this truly the end? Or perhaps... only the beginning of a new, equally dark tale?
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