1864, Transylvania, Romania

The reaping moon rose over Transylvania, a scythe of silver slicing through the darkness.

In the middle of the ink-black forest stood Charlotte de Winter, her blood-stained wedding dress streaming out behind her—ethereal, lovely, and wicked.

Then the stench hit her. Sickeningly sweet rot came hurtling through the pines on a gust of icy wind. A moment later, the rattle of carriage wheels echoed, husky and dry as bones.

Charlotte raised her cross bow, dug her heels into the dirt a little further.

And she waited.

He was coming.

No one else dared to be in this forest, on this night because of him, known only as The Endless One for the death he carried with him. His name was never spoken, if it was known at all. It was said to look in his eyes was to feel the most profound emptiness, until the body was rendered a shell of despair, left vacant for wandering, restless spirits to occupy for themselves.

The legend of The Endless One had haunted every heart and threshold throughout Transylvania and beyond, sowing seeds of terror, blossoming into roses of paralyzing fear for this creature, this nameless monster that no one had the courage to face.

Except for Charlotte.

When the reaping moon rose, as it did tonight, a delicate curve of silver against the blue-black sky, The Endless One would come down this road surrounded by ancient pines creaking and moaning in the wind, whispering their age-old warning.

Run.

Run while you are still alive.

The legend told of a carriage he drove, oily black, as rotten and fetid as he was, drawn by six massive stallions from Hell, the flames of Purgatory flying from their hooves.

As a child, Charlotte had witnessed the trail of charred hoof prints for herself on more than one occasion, traced her fingers around the curved sear marks that lingered in the soil long after the horses had gone.

Years had passed since then. She had traveled far and wide for her education—England and America, India and Japan. When she returned to Transylvania—her home, always and forever—the same tales were told, a little more gruesome and bloody than before.

Every legend, no matter how twisted and fanciful, held a kernel of truth buried deep within it somewhere. Now, tonight, she was to see for herself just how much truth those stories contained.

In the distance, the carriage came skidding into view, never touching the earth. Through the gray shadows of the night and the silver glow of the moon, Charlotte could barely make out the silhouette of The Endless One as he slapped the reins against the stallions' backs, driving them wild and hard.

Straight for her.

Charlotte stood her ground. She raised the crossbow, anchored it against her shoulder.

"You will come no further!" she called, her voice bold in the trembling darkness.

The carriage pulled up short and the stallions stamped their black hooves, sending up sparks of fire that snapped orange, gold, and crimson at the night.

Slowly, The Endless One rose to his feet, the carriage swaying and creaking beneath him.

Charlotte's finger curled around the trigger of her crossbow, steady, resolute. To look at him was terrifying, this form that wasn't quite human. Shadow tentacles spread around him like fingers, grasping, pulling, tearing at the night, always hunger for more and never satisfied.

Charlotte forced herself to meet his eyes.

Or where she supposed his eyes should have been when she could see only bone and blackness.

The rapid rate of decay had left him unidentifiable, his skin wasted to nothing, gleaming shards of bone visible through wet, red muscle. The buzz of blow flies and the thick squelch of maggots sent Charlotte's stomach churning, her throat too tight to breathe. But she didn't look away and she didn't run as so many others had before her.

The tales didn't do him justice. The Endless One was worse, so much worse, than any descriptions that had been attributed to him. She had been warned he was a nightmare incarnate, but it was when she finally stood in his presence, facing the mythical monster, that it sank in how horrific he truly was.

Charlotte refused to be afraid of him.

She knew who the man was beneath the rot. A cursed man burdened with an inheritance he couldn't escape.

She had loved him once.

She still did.

"Are you a sacrifice just for me?" The Endless One said in a voice so strange and hollow, it sent a chill of dread shivering over Charlotte's skin.

"Do I look like one?" she replied.

The Endless One bared his teeth in a vicious grin and jumped down from the carriage. His tall black boots made a sucking noise in the mud as he came towards her.

He stood two heads taller than her, every inch of his frame broad and sturdy. His moth-eaten coat flapped and swirled around his knees, liquid as the night. The frayed fabric never snagged or caught, never unraveled despite how faded with age and dust it appeared to be.

"Stop," she commanded. "Or I will put this bolt through your heart."

The Endless One spread his hands with a menacing laugh.

"Why should I? You're only human. Mortal." He paused then added, "You're too weak to harm me."

The way he said it, with a savoring grit in his voice on that one word—weak. He knew he could crush her and enjoy every minute of it.

"Now," he continued, lowering his head. "Toss that crossbow aside and I'll have mercy on you, make your death swift and somewhat painless. I wasn't that generous with the others but I find your courage..." He breathed deep, considering. "Amusing."

Crystals of ice crept across the ground, crackling and rustling like a wildfire until it licked at the toes of Charlotte's boots.

"Give me your soul," he said, his hand outstretched. "And get out of my way."

Charlotte didn't budge, didn't flinch. It was no use reasoning with The Endless One. He would bully her and blind her with fear until she bowed to him as everyone else did. But he wasn't why she had come here.

She needed to get to the last remnants of the man who lingered inside of this wretched monster before he was gone for good.

"Alexander, my love," she said, her words soft as a caress in the stillness.

The Endless One faltered. He frowned, the exposed muscles of his face pulled together in a mask of fury. The darkness that encompassed him swelled and magnified like the tide at sea, heralding the arrival of an impending storm.

"Oh," The Endless One breathed as the realization dawned on him. He smiled, slow and devilish, a cat with a trapped mouse. "You're the bride. I've heard about you."

Charlotte pressed her lips together in determination. Alexander had to be in there somewhere, fighting to stay alive, fighting to hold onto his dying soul. She knew this wasn't Alexander talking. This monster wasn't him. It was the curse that had claimed him, turned him into a specter to haunt the countryside at every reaping moon.

"How did it feel?" The Endless One said. "To watch your sweet young man die in your arms at the altar? So close to being wed. Yet you don't even have the privilege of mourning him as his widow. Such a shame."

"I have nothing to mourn," Charlotte replied as she aimed the crossbow at The Endless One's heart.

The slick, pumping organ was barely visible between the spaces of his ribs. If he moved, if he so much as twitched, she would miss with no time to reload for a second shot.

"Alexander is alive," she said. "And I've come to take him back from you."

"To do that, dear bride, the curse must be broken. An admirable aspiration but I should tell you..." He leaned forward, chin dipped towards her as if sharing a secret. "It's impossible. In hundreds of years, no one has managed to get rid of me. I've had the line of Prescott men under my rule for a long, long time. That won't change."

"It will now," Charlotte replied. Then, under her breath, she whispered, "Forgive me, my love."

She fired the bolt into The Endless One's chest.