When Night Comes

12. 𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

Anxiety coursed through him as the clock's hands reached 1:00 AM, and still, there was no sign of (Y/n). Each passing moment heightened his unease and frustration, amplifying the relentless tick of the old, grandfather clock that marked time with meticulous precision. "She must be somewhere within the manor," he muttered to himself, a reassurance directed more inward than outward. Dorian had taken to searching her room, his eyes scanning every corner in hope of finding any clue that would lead him to her whereabouts. Casting a worried gaze outside, he observed the storm raging with unrestrained fury, the frigid winds howling through the night.

"She isn't foolish enough to venture out," he reasoned, as much to convince himself as to align his thoughts.

A sudden intrusion broke his solitary vigil, as the door to the room creaked open and two servants timidly entered. The woman, adorned with freckles and strawberry-blonde hair, bore the look of someone on the verge of tears. The man, standing alongside her, radiated fear and trepidation.

Dorian's stance stiffened as a rush of worry enveloped him. "Where is she?" He demanded, foreign instincts surfacing within him. "What has happened?"

"Mary helped the young lady leave, sir," the man confessed, his voice marked by meek submission.

His eyes darkened as he spoke, his tone eerily calm. "I beg your pardon?"

"The young mistress expressed her desire to step outside for a brief while, sir," the woman explained, her eyes welling up with tears. "I told her that a storm was coming later tonight, but she said she would come back before then. She gave her word that she would return before dinner, yet she has not—"

In an instant, he seized her, his clawed hand digging into her skin with a firm, painful grip. His voice dropped to a sinister, seething tone. "You imbecile fool," he hissed, his words laced with menace. "I will eviscerate you, snap every bone in your fragile frame, and dismember you piece by piece. Where did she go? Tell me—WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?"

⊱ ────── {⋆☾⋆} ────── ⊰

Shivers wracked her body as the icy wind lashed at her, its relentless gusts chilling her to the bone. With each step, the soft crunch of her boots on the snow was drowned out by the deafening roar of the winter storm. She felt cold in her light coat; she had brought only the bare essentials: sturdy boots for trudging through the snow, mittens to protect her frozen hands, and a coat to ward off the cold.

Glancing behind her, she realized that her own footprints had already been swallowed by the snowdrift. Her determination to leave the estate had driven her this far, and despite the bitter bite of the wind and the chill in her bones, she was determined to press on. This path, a constant struggle, would surely lead her to a town nearby. The cold icy storm against her will and determination. She was going to prove she was stronger, that despite her cold hands and the fact she couldn't feel her feet anymore, she could still win.

She had left the estate at 11:30 PM, when the weather was still relatively calm, but now, her sense of time was lost in the relentless blizzard. She clenched her mittened hands tightly around her frame, seeking warmth and comfort where there was none.

"Any moment now," she whispered, her breath forming frosty clouds in the frigid air. "The next town must be nearby. I just need to find a cottage or a village." Her words barely carried in the howling wind, a fragile hope that she clung to as she trudged onward.

Then, a voice cut through the tempest, an unexpected sound in the desolate wilderness. "Are you lost, child? What are you doing all alone in such a cold storm?"

(Y/n) halted in her tracks, her heart quickening with relief as she noticed a figure in the distance. She hastened her steps, eager for help.

"Please, help me, I..." she stopped walking, a feeling of wrongness overtaking her. He was frothing at the mouth, and his lips parted to reveal sharp, menacing canines. Its eyes were red and the sclera was bloodshot.