Dragomirs

I: Report from the Keeper of Chains

I write this letter not as an apology. Not as an excuse for my failure. I simply wish to inform you, my dear queen, of the events that transpired at Castle Dragomir.
On the thirtieth night of the eighth month, my company of hunters and I crossed the threshold to the grounds of the castle, the only land in Ashfeld that had eluded your order for so long. Perched up on the gates were a litany of bodies, skewered by spikes, lances and blades. Warriors, messengers and would-be invaders, all. Some were still clinging on to life, moaning with despair, rasping and wheezing like the damned crawled out of hell. Scruffy rats wet with blood picked away at the freshly deceased, pulling flesh apart, scratching and burrowing into gaping mouths and hollow chest cavities. Black feathered crows looked down on us, chastising our arrival with their screeches. Or perhaps they were trying to warn us off. A message we failed to heed. The air was windless but frigid, the type of cold one could feel down to their bones.
Our path lit by torchlight, we advanced across the bridge. My footholds were steady and strong, but already did I feel the men march with uncertainty. They knew of the man we had been sent to collect. Severin Dragomir. They had heard of his reputation. The villagers called him The Nightstalker. They said he was unnatural. A shadow killer who, after sunset, prowled the area without reason or remorse. A collector of blood. And those stories were hard to deny given the portrait of violence which had greeted us to his domain. The omen of death lay heavily upon us. But as best as I could, I tried to push them forward.
“Remember,” I shouted, “we do not quaver in presence of the dark. We are the night! Our queen will have her prize!”
With that, we began our assault. We flung the towering wooden doors open and barged into the castle. Silent darkness greeted us, the cacophonous halls echoing our own footfalls back at us. A thin layer of dust covered all surfaces. The traces of neglect—or indifference. A faint breeze blew in from the open doors, whistling behind us.
As we moved beyond the foyer, we felt the shadows move. Encircling us. We could see eyes glinting in the dark, reflecting light like wild animals in the forest. The hunters shivered and closed ranks. They whispered among them, spouting nonsensical folklore of ghosts and devilry. I knew then it was too late. I knew then… they would fail you.
Flail in hand I moved forward to complete my mission, abandoning them.
One of them yelled to attack.
The doors slammed shut.
What happened next, I can only describe as a massacre.
The men screamed in horror as they were picked off one by one. Quickly did they scatter throughout the halls, some to flee, others to fight. Heads were severed, throats slashed and ripped open. The enemy moved fast—faster than seemed humanly possible. It was only when my eyes landed upon The Nightstalker and engaged him in combat that I understood what I had missed: he was not alone. So focused was I on the intelligence we had on Dragomir that I had not realized that it could be erroneous. Everything we knew about him said he was a solitary creature. Alone in his castle. Never did I imagine that he would have an adult daughter.
I saw some of the hunters get pulled into dark corners of the castle, dragged away as they screamed. Their pleas cut cruelly short, followed only by the sound of blood splattering.
As the two Dragomirs slaughtered the men, I heard both speak to one another in a language I could not understand. But Severin’s tone indicated he was scolding and reprimanding his daughter ceaselessly. I did, however, register a name. Liana.
Showered in the blood of her victims, Liana laughed, twirling as if this were some sort of grim dance. I faced The Nightstalker, my firefly-lit flail meeting his sword in the black. We fought, and already I could tell he recognized I was not one of the feeble opponents he was used to dealing with. I delivered a mighty kick that pushed him over a ledge, and he fell out of sight. I chased him down into the crypt, a place where even the dead would not have dared sleep. There he stalked, a disembodied voice. I commend myself with both pride and honor that he did not inflict upon me a sliver of fear. I was steadfast in my oath. But he took me by surprise, emerging from the darkness.
As he propelled me into a stone wall, he shouted in a thick accent. “You should have… left me… alone!”
I realized then I could not defeat him in his own home, where he had the advantage. I used the distance created between us to make my escape. As I ran out, the entire floor was slick with blood. The fresh stench of slaughter permeated the air. None of my men survived. I was the only one who made it back out into the night, the echo of Liana’s laughter haunting my every step.
I know how important this mission was to you. How crucial Dragomir and his land were to your rule. Know that, whatever comes next, I will be ready to redeem myself. I will return to my dungeon. And there, I will await further instructions.
You will have your peace.
I swear it.

II: Dear Father

We stood on the balcony, watching as these idiot hunters made their advance toward our home with the full moon shining overhead. I knew we had received visitors before. But never in such large numbers. It was then you asked me a question.
“Liana, what have you done?” Disdain in your voice. The same as always.
I didn’t have an answer for you then. But I do now.
Do you remember when I was eight years old? I was staring at myself in the mirror, shrieking and crying. You barged in screaming, asking what the commotion was all about. I pointed at my reflection, at my pale complexion.
“I look like a monster!” I cried, throwing a candleholder and smashing the glass. “Why am I like this?!” I was hurt. Distraught. From my window, I could sometimes see the villagers and their children. Running. Laughing. Playing. They looked happy. I was so different from them.
Do you remember what you told me? I do, because it was the only time you showed any sort of affection towards me.
“Liana,” you said. “When I was a child, I too wrestled with our condition. But here is what I learned, through hardship and bloodshed: what you see in the mirror is only a fraction of what you are. You may not choose your appearance, but you get to choose what to do with it. Will you scream, cry and complain, or will you accept it? Weaponize it?”
“So, the way I look,” I asked, holding back tears, “that’s not the reason you keep me a secret from everyone?”
“Dear girl no,” you scoffed. “I keep you a secret because of what you have taken from me.” Then you walked away, slamming the door, leaving me alone yet again.
That day, I chose to accept what you said. Even now, the cracked mirror still resides in my room. I kept it. To show me my true self. Broken and monstrous.
I know how much you miss mother. And I know that you blame me for her death. After all, it was bringing me into this world that took her away from you. For a long time, I blamed myself, as you did. It was why I obeyed. Why I stayed. Why, whenever I left for a little bit of fun, blood-soaked escapades in the village, I always came back.
“Liana, what have you done?”
The question stung like a stake in my heart, because what I did… I did for you.
For years, I have watched you drown yourself in your obsession. Lost books and ancient manuscripts, all scoured in the hope of finding an answer. You never explained any of it to me, but when you were away, out on one of your mysterious expeditions, I spied. And I finally understood.
You were trying to bring her back.
And you thought you had found a solution. Blood magic. The same type that had cursed our family. For your research, you needed blood. A lot of it.
So, to please you, I obliged.
I started with one. Under the cover of the night, with hood and cloak, I infiltrated the village. From the dark corners I prowled, until I found a lone farmer, and snatched him off the ground. Then, I moved on to another village, and repeated the hunt. And then the next. Some I took back alive. Others I simply killed on the spot, slashing their throats, or plunging my sword deep into their belly. The more I did it, the more I realized something. How I loved to watch them squirm as life drained out of them.
Dead or alive, I brought them all back. For you. I thought that if I were to find a solution to your problem, you would finally see me. You would finally accept me.
The foolish hope of a child.
Did you even notice the bodies in the crypt? Did you not once wonder how they had gotten there? Oh, I’m sure you did. But only now do I realize… you just didn’t care.
Everywhere I went, I heard what the villagers said. They all said the Nightstalker was to blame. And the more people I snatched, the more word spread.
Yes, I do believe that it was me who brought the hunters here. I don’t think that it was my intention. But the more that I think on it… I am glad that they came.
Because I now know, nothing will ever be good enough for you.
When the hunters barged into our home, it was the first time we stood side by side. Together, we fought as one. And I cherished every single kill that came my way. Finally, I was revealed. No longer confined to secrecy, I soared under a storm of blood. I showed them who I really was. What I really was. The girl in the broken reflection. The monster.
I did exactly what you taught me. I weaponized what I was. I embraced it. And still, it wasn’t enough for you. Still, you berated me. Even when our victory was assured. You resolved to chase the last survivor, and I wanted to join you. But what did you say?
“Leave me be, Liana! Go make yourself useful elsewhere!”
Well, this is me making myself useful elsewhere.
When you find this letter, I will already be gone. I don’t yet know where I will go. All I know is there’s a whole wide world out there for me to discover. So many warriors to kill. So much blood to spill.
Goodbye, father. I hope you’ll be proud of me.

III: From Severin Dragomir’s Journal

What has transpired yesternight, I, Severin Dragomir, lord of the Dark Lands and heir to the Crimson Dragon dynasty, write down here in a bid to commit to memory.
After his attack on my castle, I chased the Keeper of Chains outside a small Knight fortification. It displayed Guljin’s flag, but it appeared to be in poor condition. The Keeper was still far from his dungeon, the so-called “Abyss”, but I suspected that was where he intended to make his retreat. The night had grown old. Already the first hints of sunlight gleamed on the horizon, pink and orange bleeding into black sky. I knew I should not have concerned myself with him. I had research to continue. Experiments to conduct back at my castle.
I had injured the Keeper during our battle, and he had difficulty running. As he headed for the entrance, he called for aid. A fort of this size should have at least held a company of twelve, yet only three warriors ran out—a Khatun, a Black Prior and a Lawbringer. The sign of a waning regime, perhaps.
The Black Prior was the first to die. I plunged my teeth into his flesh and ripped his throat out, spitting blood. The Khatun came next, attacking with dual swords. She was good. But I, of course, was better. I slashed her stomach open, burrowed my claws and pulled her innards out. At the same time, the Lawbringer slammed into me with the force of a bear. I rolled in the dirt before catching myself, my boots and free hand finding purchase in the ground. I had to relieve him of his arm to create an opening. Then I brought my sword to his head, hacking twice.
A tad excessive, all that, I must admit. But I was annoyed. Angry. And running out of night.
I turned to face the Keeper of Chains, his back against the fort’s gate. Despite his injury he prepared for another duel. A valiant effort. By now the sun had crept over the tree line and while I was constrained to the fading dark, he stood firmly in the sunlight. There we stood, separated by both night and day.
In him, I recognized something I knew he had not felt in ages: fear.
“I implore you, be not afraid,” I began. “You will live this day. As you well know, I do find appreciation in leaving out warnings of flesh across my gates. But today, for what has transpired in my home… you. You will be my warning.”
He simply stood there, watching in silence.
“Tell your mistress,” I continued, “the Dragomirs will never bow. Tell her, my domain shall never be hers. My seat is mine alone. She will never have… everything. She is a failure. And so are you.”
Then, under the cover of what little shade remained, I left.
I waited for nightfall to return to my castle. When I arrived, I was taken aback by the glow of firelight emanating from the great hall. The fireplace had not been used in years. Fresh logs had been recently thrown on the hearth, and strong flames wisped to the tune of crackling wood. I noticed a letter addressed to me on the mantelpiece. I recognized Liana’s handwriting. I reached for the letter, broke the wax seal and read it. As I laid eyes upon her words, I cracked a faint smile. But as I did, I was interrupted by a voice.
Taken by surprise, I unsheathed my sword and pivoted, ready for battle. The source of the voice came from a hooded figure on the other side of the room. It held a hand up.
The stranger spoke in a silvery voice, and said he bore no ill intent. That he had come as a friend.
“A friend would have waited—and knocked—before waltzing into my home,” I told him.
“Considering what you do to your… guests… can you blame me?” the man replied.
Not letting my guard down, I asked him what he wanted.
“To give you what you have always wanted,” he answered. “What you have been searching for, for so long.”
He said he had access to manuscripts that would allow me to bring Crina back. Had I not been stuck in my research for what seemed like eons, I would have severed his head and left it on a spike atop my gates. But as it was, I needed help.
He made me an offer. One that came with a price. He has asked me to fight for him.
“Against the Khatuns?” I asked him.
He chuckled at that, an unnerving laugh that echoed in my maroon halls.
“No,” he said, a hint of malice in his throat. “For something much greater.”
I write now with firm resolve that I do not, for one moment, trust this man. But even if there is a slight chance that I can hold my beloved wife once more, I must take it.
I have agreed to his terms.
I will join his Bestiary.
For now, I will fight for him.
For now, I will be his Dragon.