#gothic first chapter

It was as if time simply stopped existing in the pervasive shadow of the tall trees that stood motionless around her, like malevolent sentinels.

As she narrowed her eyes in distrust and confusion, her gaze was inexorably drawn to a narrow path winding through the impenetrable obscurity ahead; it was akin to a faint ray of light cutting through a menacing labyrinth and her body moved towards it before her mind could even clear completely.

Weary and more than just a little scared, she pressed on tirelessly, her eyes glued to the forest floor – littered with dead leaves and tiny twigs – until she suddenly could feel the silver moonlight pour over her head like a shower of light.

She had no idea where she was and how she had managed to stray so far from the route she had mapped out in her head prior to her departure; ever vigilant, Aggie had of course heard tales of the man-eating forest she’d have to pass by and had resolved not to set foot into it if she could help it.

“Don’t even look at it,” the elderly aunt she had visited had warned her, “strange things happen within that wood!”

Starting early and making good time, Aggie had been confident that she’d reach the small village on the edge of the vast woodlands before nightfall, but somehow, she must have gotten turned around.

It was only then, after musing pointlessly about her uneventful and tiring day, that she realised that she had been walking for many an hour and that she had reached a clearing, bathing in a pearlescent shimmer that told her that it was the dead of night and she was no closer to finding her way back than before.

At the far end of the slightly oblong space, the boughs of the old trees seemed to tangle into a sort of natural awning that plunged the ground beneath them into inky blackness.

For a moment, she thought she heard the echoes of a song and the hint of woodsmoke caress her tired senses and – once again – she was set in motion by forces beyond her own reckoning.

Not long after, she reached a stair braided out of old, creaking roots that led ever downward.

Every fibre of her being objected to being drawn under the earth never to surface again, but a leaden fatigue descended upon her now and the idea of finding shelter for the night became so overwhelmingly appealing that she ventured on.

As soon as her nimble right foot touched solid earth again, lights flared up as if her mere presence had ignited the torches lining a high corridor that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

“No,” she mumbled, but – even to her own ears – her voice sounded feeble and muffled by the ambient silence that had a positively physical weight to it as it settled on her shivering frame.

Aggie knew not if it was her weariness or a trick of the light, but the corridor seemed to contract and shorten before her very eyes; she now could make out an intricately carved and richly decorated double door and – despite her better knowledge – she hastened towards it.

As if they had sensed her approach, the doors swung open noiselessly.

Stumbling once more, Aggie found herself in a dimly lit room – cavernous and huge – that was as devoid of life or movement as the rest of this accursed forest.

“Hello?” she called tentatively and shrank back as she caught a movement ahead.

Stepping into a pale ray of light falling through an opening in the dark ceiling that seemed comprised of roots and packed earth, the most marvellous creature she had ever beheld extended his arms as if in welcome.

“Good evening,” the being said in a voice that reminded her of the terrible wrath of an unleashed river, “little one. I am Thranduil, Lord of these Halls.”

Thranduil, Aggie thought with a shiver of apprehension, was as white as if someone had poured pure starlight into the approximate shape of a man; his long, gleaming hair flowed like water down broad shoulders and his piercing eyes shone with a cold light. 

From this distance, everything about him seemed unnaturally pale; he looked colourless as if someone had drained him of all the usual signs and tokens of life and there was something distinctly frightening about the stiff elegance of his movements that gave the impression that he was holding his breath to avoid moving so swiftly that he’d blur like lightning cutting through the darkness.

“You look tired,” he went on when she didn’t reply, “allow me to offer a humble repast to a very welcome traveller.”

Aggie felt herself nod – amazed and entranced – and step forward at his discreet beckoning motion. 

Servants materialised out of the shadows, laying out a marvellous feast on a low table that she had not seen upon entering the ever-shifting room. Candles were brought in and lit by eager hands, but Aggie’s mind was cloaked in an obscuring fog.

“Come now,” Thranduil urged, “and tell me of the world outside.” The way his eyes – grey as an overcast sky and yet iridescent with reds and violets – flitted over the bare skin of her wrists and throat made her flinch, but she was overcome with a ravenous hunger such as she had never known before all of a sudden.

Everything about this place terrified her and yet, she could not muster either the courage or the will to stand and leave.

Moreover, Thranduil was compelling in his motionless, rapt attentiveness so she told him more about herself, her movements, her family, and her village than was rationally advisable.

An orphan, an unmarried woman, lost and alone in a strange forest, she all but screamed her own vulnerability at him.

“Indeed,” he purred, leaning forward eagerly. “You will make a great addition to my coven. If you would be so good as to follow me to my rooms; I have some truly excellent wine set aside for situations like this one.”

“Will I die?” Aggie asked brazenly, struggling against the supernatural sense of calm and comfort radiating from the sharply smiling creature. If these were her last moments of motion, sound, and colour, she would embrace the frantic beating of her heart and savour every second of blood-curdling fear if that was all that was left to her.

“Die?” Thranduil laughed, revealing sharp teeth that glittered like blades in the flickering candlelight, “oh no! Everything but that. I will make you mine. I will steal you.”

“Steal me?” Aggie echoed in a hollow voice; she was nobody’s property and she had made that quite clear, or at least she thought that she had.

“You’re one of theirs,” Thranduil smirked, “and I will poach you, if only to see which one of those terribly distasteful monsters they’ll send to retrieve such a treasure.”

Curiosity now drove Aggie to follow him; not only was she almost certain that he was some unholy demon – frozen in time forevermore – but she had apparently been rubbing elbows with his kind before. 

She had a good idea who, in her immediate vicinity, could be meant by his cryptic words and she was desperate to find out if she was right.

So, that was the first chapter...Stay tuned to see how this goes on!

-> Chapter 2