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A sudden movement beside him caught Jonathan's attention. He turned to find a strikingly handsome man settling into the seat next to him. The stranger's otherworldly beauty was almost unsettling – sharp cheekbones, piercing amber eyes, and long white hair that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the traincar. He wore an impeccably tailored suit of deep burgundy, with a silk waistcoat embroidered with intricate golden patterns. A gleaming pocket watch chain draped across his chest.
"Happy to be heading home?" the man asked, his voice rich and melodious.
Jonathan blinked, taken aback by the question. "I... yes, I suppose I am," he replied hesitantly.
The stranger's lips curved into a smile. "Good. I'm quite the romantic, you know. I do love a happy ending."
"Oh, I don't really read romances," Jonathan said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"If you did, though, you'd prefer the ones with happy endings, wouldn't you?" the man pressed.
Jonathan nodded, unsure how to respond to this bizarre conversation.
"Let me tell you a story," the stranger continued, his eyes gleaming. "A romance that spans centuries. It's a tale of lost loves found again in new forms, and a meddling demon who told a little white lie to ensure he'd see a happy ending."
Jonathan laughed nervously, glancing out the window. "I think we're almost at our stop," he said, hoping to end the conversation.
The man sighed dramatically. "Perhaps another time, then. Maybe we'll meet again in a few hundred years – or a thousand – and have a good laugh about all this."
Confusion and unease swept through Jonathan. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Just then, the train lurched to a stop. The stranger stood, smoothing his immaculate suit. "I'm afraid you don't have time to waste, Béla and not Béla," he said cryptically. "Dracula awaits."
Before Jonathan could respond, the man vanished, leaving behind only the faintest scent of brimstone. Jonathan sat frozen, his mind reeling from the encounter. Béla stirred beside him, raising his head and letting out a soft whine.
"It's alright, boy," Jonathan murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears. "I think. Come on, let's go."
With shaking hands, he gathered his belongings and stepped off the train, the mysterious stranger's words echoing in his mind.
Jonathan stepped off the train. The familiar Transylvanian air filled his lungs, crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint whisper that had been growing stronger with each mile of his journey.
Despite the flutter of being back, something wasn’t quite right.
The familiar carriages that once ferried travelers to the village were conspicuously absent. An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant barking of dogs.
As he scanned the area, Jonathan’s eyes widened. A group of men huddled near the station entrance, their faces grim and weapons poorly concealed. Hunters. He ducked behind a pillar, pulse quickening.
A flash of movement caught his attention. A young boy, no more than ten, wheeled a rusty bicycle across the square. Jonathan’s mind raced. He approached the child, fishing coins from his pocket.
“How much for your bike?” he asked, voice low and urgent.
The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the money. Without a word, he thrust the handlebars toward Jonathan and snatched the coins.
Jonathan swung his leg over the frame. He pedaled hard, the rickety bike creaking beneath him. As he left the village behind, his faithful companion loped alongside, tongue lolling.
The wind whipped Jonathan’s face as he rode, the looming silhouette of Castle Dracula growing larger on the horizon. That voice, his voice echoed in his mind, growing stronger with each turn of the wheels.
He stopped only once he reached the desolate chained gates of the burned structure.
Béla whined softly at his side. Jonathan scratched behind his ears, drawing comfort from its presence. “We’re close, boy. Can you feel it?”
As if in response, the dog’s ears perked up. With a sharp bark, he took off down the worn path leading away from the crumbled castle and into the woods. Jonathan dropped the bike and hurried after, his legs protesting the sudden exertion. His recent injuries, though mostly healed, still made themselves known with dull aches. He laughed when he thought of the fear he felt when he had first entered these lands. How that hungry wolf that followed unnerved him.
Now, he was afraid of nothing.
The path wound through dense forest. Jonathan’s footsteps crunched on fallen leaves, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness. Where were the birds? The chittering squirrels? An eerie silence had settled over the woods, broken only by his own labored breathing and the occasional snap of a twig beneath his feet.
Branches snagged at his clothes as he pushed through, leaving small scratches on his exposed skin. The air grew heavy, laden with the musty scent of decay. Jonathan’s heart raced, a mix of anticipation and fear coursing through his veins.
