Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
A smile curved my lips as I walked farther into the wilderness and thought how wonderful it would be to just disappear into it altogether.
CHAPTER FIVE
CLARA
The forest stretched endlessly around me, the towering, ancient trees twisting together in a canopy, filtering in only a minimum of the golden sunlight.
I’d wandered farther than I planned, the trail disappearing behind me long ago, but I wasn’t worried.
I needed this.
I had felt out of place before. No matter where I went, it was like I was the square peg in a round hole. But when I’d come here—when I was here—everything swallowed me whole. The silence, the very shadows that seemed older than the earth itself wrapped themselves around me until I felt… warm and safe.
And yet, the strangest part wasn’t the place. It was me. Every step I took echoed in front of me, like the trees and plants and mountains were trying to lure me forward. Lure me toward something. I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t. I enjoyed being alone and thought this foreign place really didn’t seem so foreign at all.
Sometimes, when I caught my reflection in the stream, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. The features were mine, yes, but I stared into my eyes and felt like someone from another world was looking back at me. It was as if I was waiting for something I couldn’t name. As if I had lived a life I couldn’t recall, one that had been carved away and buried beneath time.
The solitude, the quiet hum of nature, and the raw, untamed beauty of this place made me feel like I’d been here before. It was like a memory I knew I didn’t have, but was so strong inside of me it was undeniable.
In this moment, it felt like this was why I’d come this far.
The deeper through the trees I walked, the more I finally had a moment to breathe. God, I hadn’t even fully started working at the gallery yet, and already, I had drama surrounding me and my new home.
This place—the region, the landscape, the history—called to me. Now that I was here, moving through the forests my grandparents most likely walked once long ago, I felt something stirring inside me. Something familiar and strange all at once.
The chill of the Romanian air rustled the tree leaves, and I adjusted my jacket and just took a deep breath in. I'd brought my sketchpad with me and couldn't wait to sit down and draw whatever was in front of me, feeling my muse wake up and take notice.
For months, I’d struggled to create anything that felt alive. Everything I sketched, painted, or sculpted seemed hollow, as if I’d lost the spark that once came so naturally. But this forest, with its dense shadows and golden light, seemed to whisper possibilities.
I kept walking until my legs ached and my belly grumbled that it was time to eat. The trees opened up to a clearing, and there it stood…an estate unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was so beautiful that my breath caught.
The structure was massive even though it was nothing but ruins. It was clearly ancient with its jagged spires rising to the skies. The crumbling stone walls must have towered over everything at one point in all their otherworldly glory. Ivy crept up the stone, and I stared at what was once probably stained glass windows, now black and empty like watchful eyes.
But right now, it didn’t seem like it belonged here...yet it did. The way it loomed in its decaying and defiant beauty made it seem alive.
My breath hitched as I stepped closer, weaving through the rubble and tangled foliage until the trees thinned and the forest gave way to a clearing, an overlook on a massive hill. The air itself seemed to still, as though the world held its breath. Beyond the sprawling wild, cradled by the jagged rise of mountains, it stood.
A castle.
It loomed like a sentinel of stone and shadow, its towers piercing the sky, its walls etched with the scars of centuries. The structure was both ruin and majesty, as if time itself had tried to devour it but failed. Turrets jutted like sharpened fangs, and high windows glimmered faintly in the pale light, reflecting a beauty that was almost cruel.
It should have been terrifying, a monument to darkness. And yet, in its grim grandeur, it was heartbreakingly beautiful—like a fairy tale twisted into something unholy. A fortress of nightmares and dreams alike. A place where monsters were born… and where they waited.
And it… was familiar. I blinked, confused, staring at it like I did a picture I recognized. A flock of birds flew overhead. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around, to leave this place behind, but I couldn’t.
Because the artist in me wouldn’t let me, not when this type of beauty was in front of me.