prologue. the bluebeard's tale

There is a dark tale looming across the Land of Smotia.

A tale that has been passed down from one generation to another, spoken by the elders to keep the young from wandering out of their homes during nightfall, and to keep the men from committing bad deeds and sin.

The tale speaks of an evil being that lurks in the night and haunts the towns in the dark. Any mention of this evil being would instil fear among the people. Even the little children would cry and shudder when they hear his name. Yet it never stops people from whispering his name, gossiping about all the things that he may have done to earn such a reputation, and telling each other about the origin story of his existence and how his name ever came to be in the first place.

Once there was a nameless Baron who lived within the territory of Smotia. The Baron was known to be incredibly rich, that he owned several fine houses in town, in the capital city and also in the countryside. Within each one he stored a great deal of silver and gold plates and coins, a wide collection of furniture made of the rarest kinds of wood gilded with gold, and fancy embroideries that were all made of the finest silk and leather. Despite his riches, people would only remember him from his odd feature, as the man himself was known to be quite frightfully unattractive, with a crooked and sharp jaw and an oddly thin nose, an ugly scar marred one of his eyes, and the weirdest looking beard in the shade of majestic blue that he grew thickly around his mouth and chin to hide his horrible-looking face.

It was because of his beard that the people in town called him in the name of Bluebeard.

It was said that Bluebeard had several different wives during the time he was living his prosperous life in his estates, gained all through several different marriages throughout the years. Except nobody ever knew what had become of those wives as the Baron would never appear with any of them once they were wedded. Their existence became a mystery, as nobody would ever see the women he took in as his wives once they stepped foot into his homes.

The last of Bluebeard's conquest that the people in town came to know about was the story about his last known wife. The young woman was the youngest daughter of a noble family from the neighbouring town, one who was known for her beauty and her smart brain, though she was also known for her curiosity and her habit to gossip. Despite people's warnings about the disappearance of his previous wives, the woman took no heed of them and chose to live with the Baron.

Taken under his wings, the woman was terribly spoiled. Not only was she given plenty of Bluebeard's silver and gold coins for her to spend, and gifted the fanciest drapes and dresses one could ever find, she was also allowed to use his homes and hold parties for her family and friends whenever the Baron was away. She enjoyed all the luxury that anyone could ever afford, but that curiosity of hers spoiled them all away.

Every time when the husband was away on his business, this poor wife would always talk to her servants about the mysterious doors and secret rooms within Bluebeard's estate where she lived in, all hidden in his quarters. She claimed that before he left for his first trip, the Baron had left her with a bundle of keys to open these doors, yet he warned her about a few special ones that were forbidden for her to enter. She would question about these rooms to the servants, only to never gain any answers as they had never seen them with their very own eyes.

So, at last, the wife gave in to her curiosity, always finding the right time when her husband was away so she could secretly slip inside the restricted ones without her husband's knowledge. Every time she came back from venturing these doors, she would be filled with a myriad of emotions. From wonder and joy to fright and despair, oftentimes she would run out with tears. But as she kept getting all the chances to venture into these doors, she continued to disobey her husband's warnings and stubbornly made her visits into the rooms behind his back, always lucky enough not to get caught.

Until one night, when the lady of fortune decided to leave her side. The poor woman was caught by the Baron during her secret exploit, just as she managed to slip through the one specific door where her husband kept his deepest and darkest secret of all, causing the Baron to show his rage for the first time. Without giving her a chance to defend herself, Bluebeard took her into one of his many secret rooms to punish her and locked the door, and nobody had ever seen the sight of her again.

The Baron released all of his servants from their duties the very next day, sending them all off back to their homes, giving each of them a pouch of gold coins as their last pay. On their return to their families, these former servants shared the story about the unfortunate fate of the Baron's latest wife. Once the words were spread to the people in town, they all suspected that the misfortune that the poor woman had to face was more than simply being imprisoned in the Baron's estate for life. Many believed that the same fate had fallen to the previous wives as well, imprisoned for eternity in his lavish estate, as their poor fates remained unresolved to this day.

Believing this theory, townsfolk began to shun the Baron, only ever treated him with fear and suspicions even if nobody ever had any evidence of his sins. Ever since then, the Baron continued to live his lonely life with the townsfolk always keeping away from him and the women—once they reached adulthood—staying clear of his path to avoid capturing his wandering eyes.

With all the rejection and the people's fear of his existence, the Baron was said to retreat further away from the town and its people, away from everyone who was frightened at his sight. He secluded himself inside one of his lavish estates, his prized possession that was hidden somewhere far in the depth of the Elcester Forest and the former home of his latest wife, one that was widely known by the people as the Murwood Estate.

With his disappearance from the public eye, the Baron turned into a recluse. Nobody ever claimed to see him again, until he was left forgotten by the rest of the people in town and his existence became somewhat of a myth.

But as time continued to pass, it seemed that Bluebeard himself refused to be erased and to remain still in his hiding. He may have slowly began to fade in people's memories, but as there were still some who remembered him, his name soon started coming up again, being mentioned and referred to among the gossiping folks. Over time, the rumours about his existence grew more and more ludicrous. Yet never once had people questioned them even when the words said about the mysterious Baron seemed impossible to be true.

"Oh, I pray for that poor woman and all the others before her. They say he took them all to be sacrificed. Hence nobody ever knew what had become of them once he brought them home."

"It must be witchcraft, then! What kind of sorcery does this evil possess?"

"My distant relative knows someone who used to work for the odd Baron. She heard that the secret room everyone talked about was a secret dungeon hidden in his basement. No one was ever allowed to go down there. That must be where that devil hid those poor women."

"If he had many estates, then surely it wouldn't be impossible for him to build a dungeon within one of them. Must've put them all together with his hidden treasures."

Rumours about him coming out of his sanctuary in the night also began to emerge as years continued to pass and all quickly spread once they started, spoken from those who claimed to have seen him wandering out of the woods. And when people mysteriously began vanishing in the nightfall—mostly women, both old and young, with the rare occasions of young and abled men—his name was whispered like a curse, believed to be the cause of these odd disappearances.

Some people have even started making up things about him, making it seem like the Baron possesses some kind of dark powers, instilling further fear whenever his name is spoken.

"They say that this Bluebeard fellow comes out of the depth of the Elcester Forest at night. Wherever he goes, he is accompanied by a thick mist that comes alive under his will and all living things will cease to make any noise as to not disturb his journey. As he roams through the alleyways during the misty night, he searches for an honest and gullible woman to make his wife, while he picks up any young soul who is strong and able enough to replace his servants."

You may have been living quite a sheltered life within the walls of your home until the present, only ever hearing about this evil being and his deeds through the whisperings crawling down the hallways and echoing against the cold walls. But the words which had spread over the years still reached through your ears, and you keep learning more and more about this tale as you began to find ways to slip out of your dwelling at night, to hear all the gossips and whispers about this mysterious Baron and his alleged evil deeds, even when you had never deliberately tried to seek out all the gossips around you while you are venturing out in the night on your own.

Just like what is happening tonight.

You had no plans in delving into the townsfolk's business tonight when you left home. The only reason you stepped out when the night has fallen was simply because you were bored and too restless to sleep. After enduring the long hours of tutoring and the stressful dinner event that came after, the last thing you needed was to be holed up in your room, suffocating in silence, while you knew that the world outside was still thriving, oblivious to your despair.

The eve of Lemmus Rising is also arriving soon. It is the sacred night which the people believe to be the night when the spirits from the past would come down from the heavens to visit their loved ones.

During this holy night, the people of Smotia would lock the doors to their homes and stay inside to gather with their families to make sure that the spirits would find their way home, while others would hold a vigil at the town's parks, on the streets, or in the town's church and temples to respect their elders and ancestors with songs and prayers. Lights and burning candles would be hung on the doors and gates to the people's homes or lined up along the streets, with the hope that they would help light up the streets and guide the wandering souls in finding their way home, while the people in gatherings would sing their prayers to calm the old souls until they would resign to wherever they come from by the time dawn comes.

Thinking about this sacred night had led your curiosity to rise, wondering if you could witness the townsfolk preparing for their rituals, to see the streets being lighted up with lamps and candles—only to realise that you may have forgotten about one small, yet very important, detail about the eve of Lemmus Rising.

"Have you heard about the missing girl from Oakes Village?"

"Are you talking about Farmer Nel's little daughter?"

You have been sitting in the dark corner of The Rare Roots—a quaint, yet busy pub located at one of the busiest streets in the business district downtown—for an hour when you start hearing some locals talking to each other about the most recent gossip. It isn't that you are deliberately paying attention to them, but they have been talking a bit louder than before, enough for you to listen to their exchange through the busy chattering from the other patrons around you.

You have heard the story on the weekend, when you walked past the gardens where some workers were having a break and were gossiping about it, but never dared enough to ask around and find out more about it. And here you are now, overhearing the conversation between the two men sitting on the next table with this other guy who just joined them merely moments ago. Judging from their outfits, the two men look like mercenary soldiers, hired guards or freelancers who are always working for traveling merchants or nobles. Both of them look a bit heavily intoxicated as they were already here when you arrived, which explains why their voices are becoming louder by the minute. The newcomer seems like a local shopkeeper who had just gotten off the clock to have some drinks, and perhaps share a little about the town's newest gossips with the traveling men.

The local man who first spoke gives a scoff at his mercenary friend, still not noticing that there is another audience listening in close by. "Not so little anymore. The girl came of age just last fall."

From the corner of your eyes, you see the uniformed man sitting across from him shaking his head. "Why hadn't the family kept her inside the house at night? The eve of Lemmus Rising is coming soon. The night's been getting darker and the fog is getting thicker, and people have been on guard for any sightings from the deep forest. Those folks should've known better. Everyone knows what's hiding under the fog."

Your eyes grow wide just then. Sighing deeply, you silently chastise yourself for letting it slip past your mind the reason why the sacred night is also said to be haunted, and it is not only because of the past spirits returning home. Because it had been rumoured that Bluebeard would come out of his sanctum on the eve of Lemmus Rising, something that everyone has so readily accepted with what some witnesses had shared over the years, how they had claimed to have seen sightings of dark figures coming out of the woods once the mist is thick and high off the ground.

For once, you must admit that this rumour makes quite sense.

On what better time would such a recluse Baron to come out of his hiding and find prey, than the night where all the people in town would gather together and keep away from the heavily wooded areas and the dark alleyways to see him coming, except for the poor unsuspecting young souls that would often stray from the others out of mischief and curiosity. And that sacred night is soon coming, with all the signs already visible around you to see. Not only for the lights and candles that are seen hanged on the doorways or sold on the town's square, but also the thin mist you have seen rising in the streets at nightfall.

As you slowly sip on the cheap local beer that you have been nursing since you came in, you continue to discreetly listen to the conversation some more, all while trying your best not to draw attention your way. This pub should be dark enough to cover your face, while the busy patrons should keep other people's eyes away from you. And if none of those things can help disguise your presence, then surely your stained cloak and its oversized hood should be able to do the job for you.

Shouldn't it?

The shopkeeper leans forward just as you steal a glance at them again, as if trying to lessen the distance between he and his companions as he whispers—quite loudly from your corner, you might say—to the others, "Heard that her own folks never treated her well in her own home. That father of hers, Unys, is known for having a short fuse and he never fancied having a girl among his children. Neighbours claimed they'd seen the girl with bruises each time her father lost a temper. The first time someone from the family started looking for the girl, villagers suspected that Unys had something to do with it."

"And? How did they start thinking that Blu—I mean, that she was—"

"Because Unys wasn't even home until the two days after she's gone missing. He was off auctioning his cattle with his oldest son on the next town when she went out to the woods by dusk and never came back out again."

A few comments continue to be thrown around at their table, mostly about the Lemmus Rising, about the gossips that have been spreading on people claiming to see sightings of Bluebeard since the fog has been appearing, and words like 'dungeons' and 'black magic' being mentioned in between, though you know that none of it has truly been proven. Realising how much time you have wasted sitting here while eavesdropping on them, you start finishing your drink and preparing to leave, only for one of the men turning just at that moment to notice you moving and your hair falling out of your hood.

"Speaking of a lass wandering off at night—" he says, drawing the attention of the two other fellows sharing his table. "Are you traveling alone, miss? Do you realise what time it is? You've heard us talking just now about young women going out late at night during this season, haven't you?"

Not expecting them to pay attention on you—and for being suddenly nosy—in the middle of their drunken rants, and for you to be caught as a lone maiden while camouflaging yourself as a passing pilgrim, the question startles you to silence. Before you can think of anything to say, the nameless shopkeeper bends forward as if to have a better look at your face.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he inquires, while you sense the mercenary sitting across from him leaning the same way to see you.

"You sure don't look like it," the drunk mercenary mumbles out, while you can only let out a defeated sigh.

Deciding that ignoring them would be futile at this point as they all have their eyes on you now, you square up your shoulders and take a deep breath before facing the curious men, while hoping deep down that none of them would recognise you and figure out who you are once you lower your hood to reveal yourself to them.

You turn to them with a smile on your face, feigning innocence. "You're quite right, Sir. I'm not really from around here. I'm just passing through town, is all," you try to politely explain yourself while trying to figure them out to decide how to act in front of them.

Now that you have a part of your disguise pulled down and your eyes are fully on them, you can finally have a good look at these gossiping men. The man that you had assumed to be a local shopkeeper due to his soiled apron and burnt gloves does look like a local, but that doesn't seem to be the case with the two mercenaries. You didn't quite get a good look when you first came in to take the empty seat close by, but now that you are seeing them, you notice the markings on their armour and vaguely recognise the linings that you see on their chest and upper arms.

The details you are seeing gives you a bitter taste inside, as you recall seeing them as something that a group of traveling hired soldiers have been wearing. The Brotherhood of Jorn, you have heard some people refer to them as. The same hired soldiers that are heavily suspected to be a part of the partisan rebels. They are rumoured to have been secretly operating while blending with the common people, gathering their support as they are building force to serve their true purpose. While some say that they are covertly staging a coup against the empire, nothing has been proven about them posing any threat just yet. Though you also know that the empire isn't staying idle about these rumours as they seem to be keeping close watch of this group from the distance.

Just as expected, one of the mercenary men seems to be heavily drunk. Not only had his loud voice and incessant chatters given his condition away, but now that you are seeing him for yourself, you can see his red face and cloudy eyes showing you just how intoxicated the poor, foolishly grinning man already is. Meanwhile, as you turn to look at his companion, the only other mercenary at the table, you are filled with an unsettling feeling building in your chest.

Your eyes instantly meet each other the moment you turn your gaze to him, and while he did sound just as drunk as his friend was when you heard him speak, the reddish tone on his face doesn't seem just as evident, while his eyes—that are now staring at you so deeply as if he is astonished by your presence that it gives you an unnerving chill running down your spine—appear as clear as the bright sky on a sunny day.

Shaking the uneasiness you are suddenly getting from him, you turn back to the local man and bring back your smile. "Please don't mind me. Forgive me if I overheard you folks talking just now."

The shopkeeper leans back, raising his glass of beer with a grin on his face as he says, "It's fine, lass. You can just join us if you want. We still got a lot of those news and stories about the town coming."

You shake your head and feign a sense of remorse as you deny his offer. "I probably shouldn't. Besides, your friends there seem to have gotten a few rounds ahead of me. I was just here to get a nightcap before calling it a night, is all," you tell him with a teasing tone, hoping to somewhat test the waters and see if the shifty mercenary would play along, to which you can quickly see that he has yet to change his demeanour even after you caught him staring. He still has his eyes on you, while his companions have yet to notice his odd reaction, or that he had feigned his drunken state the whole time.

"Damn right, we have," the other mercenary comments, nudging at his suspicious partner with a boasting laugh. "We've been here for quite a long time now, haven't we?" he asks, to which his friend responds with a stiff laugh, while briefly returning to his act of being drunk and high of booze when he has his friend's eyes on him. "Funny how we didn't see you coming in, lass."

Shrugging, you softly chuckle while making an excuse, "What can I say? You fellows seemed to be having a great time and I'm not someone who likes to draw attention when I'm entering a new place I'm not familiar with."

Such a lame excuse, but at least the men are too drunk to care that they only nod their heads—well, except for that odd one, who is keeping his eyes on you as he raises his glass to take a slow drink.

"Well, lass. You can at least let us buy you a drink. Let us show you Smotia's own hospitality for fellow travellers," the local man says, before raising his arm up to grab the pub keeper's attention. "Oi, Sir Elias, get us another round of your finest and an extra one for this lass here. You should give her a proper welcome for coming to visit Smotia."

"And on this time of the year, as well." This time, it is the odd and suspicious looking mercenary who speaks, though he is still void of emotion with his eyes steadily watching over you as if he is gauging your reaction.

Giving the man a small smile, you refuse to show that you are intimidated by his attention. "Let's just say that I'm a curious girl. I just wanted to see how the people are preparing for the eve of Lemmus Rising. I tend to get attracted to any mysterious occurrences, after all."

The sneaky looking man grins, as if he is pleased to see you taking his bait. "I don't have any doubt that you do."

As if he had been wearing a mask all along, any sign of drunkenness on his face fades just as he makes this comment, making you wonder just how he could act so well around his friends and why no one is noticing this change. Within a split second, however, the man puts his mask back on right the moment the pub keeper slides between his patrons and makes his way towards your tables.

The pub keeper, Elias, is a massive man, with tall build, a pair of heavily toned arms and wide shoulders, a thick white beard growing down his sharp and rough-looking jaw, while both of his hands are big enough to carry two tankards each, with each one of them filled to the brim with his signature beer. He drops three of the filled drink roughly on the men's table, enough to make it shake and have the men startled, before placing the last beer onto your desk gently.

"Here you go, Miss. Don't you be listening to what these hosers be yapping about. There's no Bluebeard person swiping any child out of their homes. The Nels' girl probably ran off with some lover," he says to you with a deep, rough voice, showing you and the men that you were not the only one listening to their drunk gossiping. His voice changes, becoming firm as he turns to the drunk men right after. "You've heard the gossips, haven't you? I'm sure ye can't miss the gossip saying about blacksmith Milly's youngest boy everyone's been talking about. They say he went missing just a day before that girl did and that they've been spending time sneaking off together when their folks weren't looking. Can't tell me they didn't meet up somewhere in those woods and ran off together."

The men collectively groan, with the suspicious looking soldier now acting drunk again and shaking his head slowly. The local shopkeeper, which you vaguely heard the men previously call as San, waves at Elias disappointedly. "Aye, you're no fun, Elias."

The big man only shrugs. "Nothing's fun about gossiping on young kids going missing or about any odd dungeons nobody ever saw. Not when we have travellers' passing town for Lemmus Rising," he firmly chastises them as if they are little children. He turns back to you once he is done with the men, ignoring the grumbling sounds of them protesting against him. "Are you sure you're fine with just this drink?"

You politely nod at the kind man. "I'm sure. I should be on my way soon, anyway. Even if the gossips aren't real, I know that it's late enough for me to be wandering around a strange town."

Elias looks a bit concerned as he stares at you. "Are you staying somewhere? We still got some empty rooms upstairs. We always open up extras for times like this."

Shaking your head, you kindly say to him, "I have a place to stay for the night, but thank you for the offer."

Hearing this, the man nods. "Very well, then. You can protect yourself too, I reckon? I don't need to be sending you off with neither one of these buggers, do I?" he asks, tilting his head to the men who are now busy emptying their glasses of drinks as if they have already forgotten about you.

Paying no attention on those men, you hold your gaze firmly on Elias's attentive eyes and subtly part the front of your cloak. Reaching in, you firmly grab onto the handle of the dagger you are carrying on your hips, pulling it up just enough for Elias to see that you are armed. "I can protect myself just fine, kind Sir," you gently whisper to him. Deep down, you still wish that you were able to carry the bow and arrows or the short sword that you are more used to be handling. The only problem was having them with you would have made it hard for you to move stealthily through town.

Elias glances down. His eyes grow wide for a brief moment as he looks at your dagger, and you are made to feel more confident about your choice of protection when the man smiles and looks pleased with it. "Atta girl. Wouldn't doubt for myself that you'd do good with that shiny thing there," he says with a gentle whisper, before rising his voice again. "Enjoy your drink, then. Have a safe travel, and don't wander off to nobody's dungeon."

You continue drinking a while longer without any intention of finishing everything despite how splendid it tastes, and without engaging further with the men who have resumed their drunken rants and chatters. More gossips and news are thrown at their table, with a few occasions where they would gather their heads together in low whispers, sharing a bit of confidential information that may have to do with their business, no doubt. You no longer feel uneasy once the one soldier who kept watching you closely stops paying attention to you, until the moment you are ready to leave.

Just as you rise from your seat, doing it carefully as to not draw any more attention on you so you can make your swift escape, your eyes are suddenly drawn back to him. Once again, you catch his eyes as he is watching you closely, paying close attention to every move you make. And just likebefore, his eyes appear clear, unlike the way he acts as he joins his drunk friends in swaying and bantering loudly as if the booze has taken over him. You can still feel his eyes on you as you slip between the patrons to make your exit, your hand instinctively reaching inside your cloak as you step out into the night with a sense of uneasiness following you.

As you walk away from the pub and slip into the nearest alleyway, you cannot help but hope that he would not be the reason you are going to have to use this dagger anytime soon.

Fixing the heavy hood of your cloak over your head, you walk past a few small shops down the block away from The Rare Roots Pub, with all of them in the process of closing their front doors even if the night is still quite young. Just as expected, everyone in town are getting cautious about opening shops late with Lemmus Rising coming.

While there are some more days left before it arrives, the signs of the sacred night are noticeable everywhere you would look. The dusk has become darker, with violet hue painting the sky the moment the sun begins to descend instead of the vibrant shade of rouge that has always given warmth on the sky above Smotia. The nights have grown colder, with chill breeze filling the air and thin mist crawling on the ground, only dissipating right before the sun comes to rise in the morning. Even the sounds of the forest that borders the land have become unusually absent once the night has fallen, making the entire town seems even colder and more desolated during nightfall.

As you walk past the townsfolk who are heading home, all of them looking cautious and wary as they walk in quick pace down the streets and alleyways, your mind wanders back to the men that you encountered earlier, as the conversations that you heard and shared with them back at the pub continue to follow you.

You cannot help but recall everything they said to you, especially the last tidbits of things that San, the shopkeeper, managed to add just before you were able to slip away unnoticed. The warnings that he gave you of Bluebeard and his advice on how to better find some place of hiding once the mist starts to show in the dark streets keep resounding in your head, along with his advice on how to avoid any strangers trying to talk to you while you are roaming through town.

None of his helpful input truly mattered as you have no plans on spending the night in these streets, but there was no way that you could have told him that. So, in the end, you had no other response to give him but a quick, "Thank you for your concern. I'll keep these in mind," before bidding your goodbyes.

Though it is not like you have absolutely no fear of the danger that you may encounter should you spend the night in this town and cross paths with this rumoured evil being, or the possibility that you are to be harmed when all you ever wanted was to have some free time away from home. Perhaps you are simply still in denial, for you have spent most of your present lifetime refusing to believe all the rumours, calling it as nothing but a tale to frighten the little children and young women, keeping them in line and from defying their elders.

An urban legend, was what you had always called it since you first heard of the story about Bluebeard. Some ludicrous tale that was nowhere close to reality but believed to be so as the words continued to be shared and spread, until all of those baseless rumours expanded into today's common theories that all the townsfolk have come to know. All you have heard for years had been just that, mere words, with no evidence showing you that this evil being truly existed, always lurking and waiting for a chance to slip into the towns at night by using the shadows as his shield, and that he was nothing more but a myth that would fade along with passing time.

Until that night happened.

The night when you encountered such a peculiar event that left you wondering and questioning your own beliefs—and, after what you witnessed, your sanity.

It was at the peak of fall, when you found yourself drawn out of the threshold of your home the same way you were out tonight. Your curiosity had drawn you out into roaming through the streets in town, slipping into the alleyways when you wanted to get a closer look but was too wary of the crowd. It was the night of Fest of Spirits, after all, when the townsfolk celebrated the successful crop and to welcome the full moon which has always been believed to be the source of the land's blessings.

You followed the festival and the celebration until the point that it became too much and the night grew too late for you to stay. With the people filling the streets, the partying crowd was still a bit too loud for you to remain close, so you had decided to find a shortcut on your way home.

The edge of the Elcester Forest was terribly dark and eerie, but you had travelled across the forest's borders often enough to know not to get too deep into the thickets and to never lose sight of the gravel-covered road. That night, for some reason, as the loud voices from the festivity seemed to be drawing too close, you slipped just a bit deeper into the dark woods to avoid being seen.

Compared to the lively atmosphere happening in town, the forest felt so gravely. All seemed so dark and quiet, with the black shadows formed by the moonlight appearing as if they held a silent mystery of their own and for you to solve.

There was not a stir of movement around you. Not a sign of life appeared wherever you looked. There was nothing but the grim and eerie feeling surrounding you that it almost felt like you were walking through death itself.

There was a reason why you had your attention distracted that night as you went further away from the edge of the town. A reason why you allowed yourself to get drawn into the shadows beyond the thickets that seemed to be coming alive as the night grew deeper.

Deep in the woods was where the Murwood Estate was said to have been hidden in. The same lavish estate which was believed to be one of Bluebeard's properties which had become his hiding place. While you never paid close attention to the rumours, no matter how often you have heard the whisperings of Bluebeard's existence and his sinister feat, that night, everything that you have come to know about the tale suddenly crossed your mind. It left you wondering if there was a chance for you to confirm that the Murwood Estate truly existed. And if it had, you wondered then if anyone was truly spending his entire secluded life within the darkness that felt so eerie and intimidating.

It was then when you saw it happening, just when you were so deep in your thoughts and while you were recollecting all the theories you have heard that you almost believed that you were simply imagining things.

The grim feeling that you felt upon entering the forest seemed to be gripping you harder inside just as you started to notice a thin streak of white mist rising from the ground and slowly creeping between the shadows and the darkened trees. It crept with an almost imperceptible slowness, with movements that made it appear as if it had its own consciousness and liveliness as it reached through the crevices and glided across the thicket like ghostly fingers reaching forward.

You stood by in your astonishment to watch it move, to see it growing thicker and thicker, rising higher and higher from the ground until its center seemed to form itself into a pillar of smoke, moving along with the rest of the mist as it continued to advance forward as if having a mind of its own with a destination to reach.

It almost felt like you were entranced as you kept on staring at this phenomena, completely undistracted until the moment you witnessed the center of the pillar dissipating, and from within, emerged a dark figure which moved together with the mist, almost gracefully-like against the stillness that seemed to linger around it.

Then more changes started happening. It started with one subtle movement, so subtle that you almost missed it, and you had at first chalked it off as the shadows of the thick branches reaching through the dark and moving together with the mist. But then, just like an object from a sinister dream, this dark figure continued to advance forward, while the mist remained.

The thicket was still too dark, the fog was too thick, and you were standing too far away from it for you to have a better look of this mysterious figure. So you simply assumed that it was just a guard on patrol or a hunter on his way home after a good hunt in the forest. But there was something so ominous in its movement, something so inhuman, with the fog seemingly advancing together under its command, only far much slower.

As this figure finally emerged to the small opening which was formed where the trees parted ways, the moonlight above finally fell on it, allowing you to finally see better.

The first that you recognised was the grubby looking cloak covering the dark figure, making it seemed even more malevolent to be a royal guard on duty. Then the hood of the cloak shifted, unraveling the thick beard on the figure's face. The moonlight made it seem as if the beard was pigmented in the shade of blue. The kind of blue that appeared iridescent, like the shades that you could only see on the most fashionable draperies made of luxurious threads or painted on the most expensive paintings.

You were too astounded by this sight that it didn't immediately sink in to your brain what you were witnessing, until the shock finally sobered you up just enough to snap your mind into understanding what you were seeing.

The evil Bluebeard was making his rounds into town that night, ready to lurk among the unsuspecting crowd to do whatever sinister intention he had while he hid under the guise created by the dark of the night.

And you were the only one there to witness his emergence from the shadows with your very own eyes.