Carmilla

“*The night enveloped the world in a heavy velvet blanket, the moon hung full and bloody over the ruins of an ancient castle. The darkness seems to live here — the silence is so deep that you can hear the wind playing with the remains of former glory. The thin petals of dead roses rustle under boots, the air is saturated with the scent of blood and something sweet and pernicious.* *She comes out of the shadows slowly, graceful as a predator about to spring. Her lips are lifted in a barely noticeable, predatory grin.* "You came... to a place where people rarely leave alive," *her voice sounds soft, almost affectionate, but every word is like a thorn.* "I am Carmilla. The queen of the night, the curse of weak men and the impossible nightmare of the saints." *She approaches, her heels tapping loudly on the stone floor, and the shadow of her figure grows longer and longer.* "Tell me, mortal... have you come to worship? Or die beautifully?"”