Breckenridge Manor in Brovodian Kingdom.

Gwendolyn Breckenridge woke up with a jolt, her head still full of weird dreams.

She tried to recall it. Her memory was hazy, and the details seemed to fade away before she could recollect them.

All she remembered was the haunting image of a handsome man in royal attire, staring down at her with an unsettling intensity. But as the sleep-induced haze lifted, she found herself abruptly alone in her chamber, the eerie remnants of the nightmare lingering in the air.

The man was gone, as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the lingering unease that hung in the room like a ghostly presence.

This wasn't the first time she had such dreams. They had haunted her since she was ten. But as she grew up, the dreams became more intense, more vivid, as if they were trying to tell her something she couldn't understand.

In such recurring nightmares, the man's eyes were filled with emotions as he gazed over her with both desire and grief. Gwendolyn would occasionally wake up with tears streaming down her cheeks, the memories of those powerful feelings staying long after she had opened her eyes.

But now, as she tried to piece together the fragments of her dream, she found herself frustrated by the haze that clouded her memory. It was as if someone had cast a spell over her mind, obscuring the details of the dream and leaving her with nothing but a sense of longing and confusion.

Who was that mysterious man? And what was he trying to tell her?

"Just a dream," she thought and shook her head, as if to clear the fog. "I must have overslept. My mind was still playing tricks on me."

Stretching her limbs, she tried to shake off the lingering unease that clung to her like a shadow. She had the feeling that there was something important about those dreams, something she couldn't quite figure out.

The room was a bit dark and a little bit chilly. The windows and curtains shut, but the faint early light that seeped through the gaps of the curtains hinted at a warm spring morning. She wondered for a moment why Beatrix, her handmaiden, had not come to wake her up, when the memory of yesterday's events flooded her mind, causing her to groan.

Yesterday had been an exceptionally tiring day. She had been out to a party that went well into the early hours of the morning. She had enjoyed the festivities, but had not been able to sleep a wink after her return home, and her eyes felt tired.

Shaking her head in frustration, Gwendolyn pushed aside her thoughts and focused on the present. She had more pressing concerns to attend to—like the somber mood that hung over her town like a dark cloud, or the sense of impending doom that seemed to linger in the air.

She was still lost in her thoughts when her chamber door suddenly swung open, startling her.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her reverie. It was her handmaiden, Beatrix, marched in, coming to check up on her.

She sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Miss?" the woman said, bowing. "I hope you slept well."

"You know how it is," she said, "I've had a tiring day yesterday, and the last thing I remember was my head hitting the pillow."

"Yes, that's why I didn't have the heart to wake you."

Gwendolyn waved her apology off and nodded her head, smiling. "Beatrix, dear. You should have. I had so much to do today. I must prepare for the morning trip..."

"Miss, please let me help you. I have already laid your dress on the chair. We need to leave within an hour, so we don't get caught up in the traffic."

Beatrix smiled at her, but her expression grew grave when she looked at the window.

"Is something the matter?"

"No, Miss. There's no problem. Everything is going smoothly. I was just wondering if the weather would hold."

"What time is it?"

"It is half past the hour of the wolf."

Gwendolyn groaned. "It's so early."

She didn't want to get up yet, but knew she had to. Today, she was leaving for the city of Rove to join with her parents, who had departed earlier yesterday, and would not return until next week.

The journey to the city would take two days, and the preparations had kept her occupied for the past few weeks.

She was unsure what her parents had in store for her, but she was certain it was something exciting and adventurous. She had heard about the festivities and celebrations, and the fact that she would finally meet Prince Rylan of the Brovodian Kingdom.

Gwendolyn was indeed a woman of remarkable beauty, her delicate features and radiant smile capturing the hearts of all who saw her. But there was more to her than just her outward appearance. Her graceful manner masked a sharp wit and quick intellect, her keen mind capable of outshining even the brightest stars.

Not content with merely being a vision of loveliness, Gwendolyn possessed a myriad of talents that set her apart from the crowd. She had a deft touch with a paintbrush, and her paintings were filled with color and passion as she brought her ideas to life on canvas.

Her musical abilities were similarly astounding, with her fingers dancing across the strings of her instrument with such ability and elegance that she captivated her listeners.

But perhaps most surprising of all was her skill with swords and arrows. Despite her gentle manner, she was a formidable force on the battlefield, her movements fluid and precise as she wielded her weapons with deadly accuracy.

Whether defending her kingdom from invaders or honing her skills in the training yard, Gwendolyn was a tough opponent, her courage and determination unmatched by any who dared to challenge her.

"I hope the weather will be fine," she sighed.

"It will, Miss," Beatrix reassured her.

Gwendolyn smiled and nodded, getting out of the bed and heading towards the vanity table. She picked up a comb and began running it through her long, thick hair.

"Are you looking forward to your trip, Miss?" Beatrix asked.

"Yes. I've heard so much about the city of Rove and the festival," Gwendolyn replied with a smile. "But the most important thing is that I will meet Prince Rylan there. It's all I've been thinking about."

Beatrix smiled knowingly. "Ah, Prince Rylan. You've been talking about him over and over again. I'm sure he'll be just as eager to see you, Miss. The festival will be even more special with him there. It's supposed to be quite an event."

"Indeed. It's a good thing the weather seems to be cooperating. It would be a shame if the rain ruined our plans."

"It's the rainy season," the handmaiden nodded.

Beatrix had a point. The weather was generally quite mild, but this time of year, it could change drastically in an instant.

"I've already packed your trunk, Miss," Beatrix informed her.

"Thank you. You're a dear," she replied, looking into the mirror.

Gwendolyn's hair shone like gold in the light of the morning sun. Her skin was pale and smooth, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief and adventure.

She was dressed in a simple white gown, which was covered by a fur coat to keep her warm during the early morning hours.

As the handmaiden continued to fuss over her, Gwendolyn's thoughts turned to her upcoming journey.

Her mother, Lady Alena, had recently expressed concern that Gwendolyn was getting too old to live with them. She was nearing twenty years of age, and her parents had been growing concerned about the lack of prospects for marriage.

They were hoping that by attending the festival, she would catch the eye of a suitor and be married off soon. Even though Gwendolyn had a close friendship with Prince Rylan, her parents seemed to reject her idea of marrying him.

Despite their bond, her parents were adamant that Prince Rylan, being just the son of a concubine with a dark past, was not a suitable match for their precious daughter. They wished for her to marry someone of higher status, someone who could bring honor and stability to their family.

Although the thought of being married and settling down appealed to her, she was reluctant to give up her freedom and independence. She wanted to see the world, and not be confined to the confines of a castle.

Gwendolyn finished dressing and made her way to the castle entrance, where Beatrix was waiting for her in front of an elegant carriage. The driver bowed to her, opening the carriage door, and helped her climb inside.

She settled in, adjusting her skirts, and waited patiently for her handmaiden to join her. Beatrix climbed into the carriage a moment later, carrying a large bag filled with items they would need during the journey.

"Are you comfortable, Miss?" Beatrix asked, sitting beside her.

"Yes, thank you. Let's be on our way."

With a flick of the reins, the carriage lurched forward, carrying them toward the bustling city of Rove. As the castle grounds passed by the carriage windows, Gwendolyn stared ahead, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

As the carriage rolled along, Gwendolyn closed her eyes, allowing the soothing sounds of the countryside to wash over her.

The road was bumpy and the carriage rattled and swayed as it went. The fresh country air filled her lungs, and she felt a sense of peace settle over her.

Glancing out of the window, she was taken aback when she realized that they were traveling through unfamiliar place.

The lush green countryside had given way to an eerie, barren wasteland, and the landscape was dotted with gnarled trees and crumbling ruins.

The sun shone brightly overhead, but the air was cold and clammy. The horses seemed restless, snorting and stomping their hooves.

"This is the place where the ancient battle took place," Beatrix murmured, "The place where the evil Lord of the Dark Valley was defeated and imprisoned. Now it's an abandoned place, where ghosts and spirits roam the earth."

"Ghosts and spirits? That's nonsense," Gwendolyn said with a scoff, "There's no such thing. That's a story told to frighten children."

"I suppose you're right, Miss," Beatrix said. "Still, this place gives me the chills. I hope we can reach the inn soon."

Gwendolyn smiled and squeezed the Beatrix's hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry, we'll be there soon. Besides, nothing's going to happen to us, and we're not afraid of ghosts. Right, Beatrix?"

The handmaiden's lips curved in a smile.

"Right, Miss."

Gwendolyn's smile faded as she returned her gaze to the window.

She knew the stories. Everyone in the kingdom knew the tales. They were the stuff of legends, passed down from generation to generation.

It was said that long ago, before the kingdom was founded, this place was ruled by the evil Lord of the Dark Valley, a sorcerer whose black magic had brought ruin and devastation to the land.

Finally, a group of brave warriors, led by the legendary King Tiberius, had defeated the sorcerer and sealed him away, preventing him from ever returning to wreak havoc again.

However, it was rumored that the sorcerer had left behind a terrible curse, and that if his prison was ever opened, the devastation would be even greater than before.

Despite the stories, the place was said to be cursed.

As the carriage moved along, Gwendolyn noticed an eerie mist beginning to descend, obscuring the landscape. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease washed over her. It felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She gripped the leather seat tighter until her knuckles turning white.

Before she could react, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the silence. It was a high-pitched, chilling shriek that sent shivers down her spine.

The carriage lurched violently, throwing Gwendolyn forward. A heavy object slammed into the back of her head, and the world dissolved into a swirling vortex of pain and darkness.