DUNGEON: The Tale of the Blood Countess

By Ghenrietta Von BLOOME

In the midst of the 17th century Gothic setting, the Horvath mansion stands in the isolated land, surrounded by lavish gardens and a nearby cemetery. At the mansion, a beautiful woman of high society- Countess Elizaveta of Horvath is known for her ravishing beauty and mystical parties. Time goes by and Elizaveta meets Tivadar- an immortal character, whose bizarre transformations from raven to man leave her completely besotted with him. Elizaveta falls deeply in love with him, however she knows her beauty will not last forever. She encounters an old woman Draconia, who makes her way into the mansion by promising the Countess to teach her old blood rituals, which would preserve her youth and grant her immortality. She keeps Elizaveta under a lucid dark spell, making her proceed with dreadful ceremonies.
Hoping to achieve her sacred desires, the Countess commits a series of petrifying crimes that put an evil reference to her name for centuries to come...
Inspired greatly by the life story of Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, who was a Hungarian noblewoman and alleged serial killer from the Báthory family.

~ Different, daring, and an absolute masterpiece...~

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781304930873

Book preview

Epilogue 

raven.jpg

God is with me, for He Made my Soul Immortal

PREFACE

A loud soul-wrenching scream penetrated the dark halls of the Horvath mansion, releasing the most terrifying plea into the cold dreadful night. The black crows outside took off from broken tree branches of the weakened oaks, flying in circles above the old mansion, expecting an easy prey. The air was thick and full of madness.

Elizaveta was furious.

This cannot be… she kept repeating over again as she was rushing down the cold wet stairs. The agonizing feeling of the upcoming doom was making her walk faster in the hopes that all of it was just a short-lived nightmare, the one she has had many times before. She approached a massive stone door and stopped frozen…                                   

Who is there...? she whispered without opening the door. The dead silence was broken by a distant voice coming towards Elizaveta. It got stronger as it was approaching the fragile queen of darkness with its patronizing and at the same time benevolent vengeance. Elizaveta tried to scream only to realize the sound wasn’t coming out, thus her lips became frozen with a weak lament.

Please… let me be, she cried silently looking at the closed door. She kneeled down on the wet steps and covered her face with the lace of her dress. The end was near. The Countess sobbed quietly as the dim light of the rising sun caressed the hallway with its golden light, trying to reach her possessed darkened soul, as if it was begging to baptize the sin itself. The dawn was weak, yet very determined to reach the Countess, to possess what was right in front of her - the very black pit of all her wrong doings and failed hopes, the travesty of her attempted gratification and perverted pleasure of the influenced mind, the very sinful desire of her most passionate bliss and seduction – the DUNGEON itself…..

HISTORY

The Horvath mansion stood on a large dominant hill surrounded by once tall majestic old oak trees. The structure was re-designed more than a century ago by the old monks who possessed the building during the Hungarian Civil War of the early 1500s. Not many words were spoken then but many deeds were done when they hid in the lower level of the  structure, known at the time as the Ending Point.  After the war was over, the monks stayed at the mansion and continued to build it to its divine and somewhat disheveled appearance. After many years had gone by, some monks decided to be on their way and travelled further North in the hopes to find more of a permanent situation. Others resided at the mansion. By the late 1590s the mansion lost almost all its intriguing tenants except one – the oldest monk named Marton. As a faithful servant of God, Marton was an excellent study and obedient worker. As a man, he was an unpredictable and secretive individual whose frequent walks to the nearby village made him the talk of the town. No-one knew why he visited the village every day until one morning a fair young woman came to the local mid wife, seeking help for her unborn child. She spoke to the medicinal lady about her sinful affair with Marton, hoping and praying to God that she would be forgiven. The villagers gathered together one night and went to the mansion with the thought of vengeance.

Marton was drinking wine after a hard-working day at the gardens when he heard a loud knock at the front door. He didn’t have a chance to open the door when the men burst inside, screaming and insulting the monk for his promiscuous behavior and for ruining the young woman’s reputation. Marton was beaten down nearly to death with wooden sticks until he hit the cold stone floor. With his last breath he whispered the name of his beloved mistress and left the world of mental anguish and emotional despair. His blood was seeping through the cracks on the floor and dripping down into the room below. His sorrowing spirit cursed the Horvath mansion for centuries to come and made it into the dark dwelling of the doomed…

The young woman had a child. He was not a good-looking boy as she had hoped he would be. As the years went by, the little wolf as she called him was growing up steadily minding his mother and doing all the chores he was assigned to do. His name was Bruno. He often had to protect his mother from the impudent and vulgar men who knew nothing about Bruno’s real father and who thought his mother to be the least respected woman in the village. Her fate was determined when one man she had rejected pronounced her to be a witch. She was sentenced at a local unofficial trial and burnt in front of the villagers who did not utter a single word in her defense. Bruno witnessed his mother’s last moments hearing her heart-wrenching plea of her innocence, yet no-one came to her rescue. The raging fire was consuming her flesh like a hungry sea monster trying to swallow her very soul. Bruno swore to take revenge on the villagers as he walked away from the vivid nightmare that day.

A few days later Bruno came upon the mansion where his father took his last breath. The young man felt at ease and comfortable, when he walked inside. He settled in a matter of weeks. Bruno spent many weeks working on the gardens and cleaning up. He didn’t know nor did he wonder about the dark history of the mansion. He wanted to forget the past and his heart was searching for a better place, a home to call his own… A season later the gardens bloomed and what used to be the monks’ hiding dwelling became a beautiful and lavish mansion. Bruno worked hard making the mansion to be the most beautiful place he had ever seen. His faithful efforts paid off and the gardens began to produce enough food for him to become more prosperous with each day. Bruno was 29 years old. As time went by, under the privilege of the medieval chivalric motto noblesse oblige Bruno purchased his noble title of a local Count and became one of the most prosperous and influential men in the nearby land. Some rumors said he had found a treasure buried on the premises and became wealthy overnight, and others believed his hard work was the reason of his prompt prosperity.

During the day, the Count Horvath was attending to his business dealings with his regular circle of aristocracy and during the dark hours of the night, he drowned his sorrows in a glass of red wine looking out of the window and trying to hear the forgotten whispers of his beloved mother.

Bruno knew something was missing in his life. He achieved so much and yet his soul was searching for a getaway. Three years had gone by when he married Lady Anne Magyar, one of the wittiest and brilliant minded social butterflies of the noble arena. Lady Anne came from Budapest and had many exquisite interests and frivolous hobbies to pass her time with. Her promiscuous attitude towards men was well-known in Budapest however it had tamed her greatly once she found herself carrying her husband’s child. In spite of all the medicinal help and effort around her, Lady Anne did not survive the child birth leaving her husband with the only vivid memory of herself – the beautiful daughter Elizaveta. The Count absolutely loved his tiny miracle and did everything in his power to keep the child safe and well taken care of. Elizaveta was growing up surrounded by numerous servants who did whatever she wanted at the sign of her first whim. She knew she was the little Queen of the mansion and she paraded the idea in front of all the maidens and servants who were bowing to her wishes each and every day.

She never asked about her mother.

Bruno always wondered why it was so; however he never questioned his daughter about it. Elizaveta grew up to be one of the most beautiful women of her time. Her intellectual skills and broad knowledge were known at the social gatherings, and her beautiful face made a permanent imprint on the paintings of many talented artists.

I shall be beautiful forever… she would say while looking at her reflection in the mirror, as though she knew some deep unknown truths only to be revealed to her own heart.

One day Bruno approached his daughter’s room and knocked gently. Elizaveta opened the door and saw her father’s face. She knew it was going to be a long conversation. The Count sat down and told her that she had a brother, named Andras. His mother was a simple woman who used to work at the mansion years ago before an illness took her away into the other world. Andras was raised with his mother’s relatives and was about to come home. Elizaveta was silent. She couldn’t find the right word to express whether she felt joy or despair. She simply did not know what to say. A few weeks later a beautiful carriage pulled up by the front stairs of the mansion. Andras, a handsome young man in his late twenties, came out from the carriage and looked around. Elizaveta was standing by the window upstairs and saw the young man’s arrival. Her heart was beating faster than usual. She couldn’t stop looking at him for the reasons uncertain to her at the time.

It’s my brother! – she reminded herself out loud and smiled. She ran downstairs and paced herself by the front door. Andras walked in and slightly bowed to her. His sweet perfume was exquisite.

Are you Elizaveta? My darling sister..? he asked approaching her closer.

Elizaveta sighed deeply and said: My father told me of your arrival. I hope you find your accommodations suitable. We shall talk more.

As she was walking away to her chamber, she remained calm and cold-hearted in spite of the young man’s pleasant approach. At dinner, her father and Andras talked about politics and everything else not very much pleasing to her ear. She avoided looking at her brother. She couldn’t explain to herself why she found him so intimidating. The days went by…

Elizaveta, I have something to tell you, her father said one night. One of the noble suitors, Count William Liszt, is asking for your hand in marriage and I have agreed, he told her in his firm voice waiting for her reaction. Elizaveta stood still without being able to utter a word. She knew best not to go against her father’s wishes.

When? she whispered.

Next month. I shall be most pleased when I see you in the good hands of a worthy husband.

Bruno left the room. Elizaveta stood still staring at her face in the mirror. She did not shed a tear. It was spring outside. The brown leaves on the waking trees were coming back to life as the warm sun was caressing their cold wilted stems with its yellow golden hands. The water in the nearby lake still had some ice on the dark blue surface. It seemed the entire world was waking up to the benevolent sound of hope.

MARRIAGE

The Liszt castle was one of the oldest ones in the outskirts of Siofok, s small lively town in the Southern part of Hungary. It was surrounded by lakes and beautiful scenery. Count Liszt had lived there all his life, so did his ancestors. He had established a great fortune passed along through generations and became one of the wealthiest men of his time. He welcomed Elizaveta with his open arms and had high hopes for their upcoming union. The time went by and the Count made every single effort to keep his young wife happy. However, in spite of all the countless gifts, jewelry and other luxurious signs of attention, Elizaveta simply did not respond to him with the same affection. One night William called upon his wife and sat with her by the fire place in one of the chambers. He had a glass of wine in his hand.

Are you happy, my dear? he asked her, desperately seeking a comforting answer in her eyes.

I am content. Is that not enough..? Elizaveta found this conversation uncomfortable. She did not care for her husband the way he wanted her to. She appreciated the comfort and all he was providing to keep her yet she did not have feelings for him suitable for a loving wife.

I detect I have offended you with my question... William released a sigh. Will you come to bed?

Elizaveta looked straight in his eyes.

I must retire early tonight, my dear husband. Tomorrow is a long day. Good night

Elizaveta put her wine glass on the table and held her breath. She paused and then walked away to her private chamber. One of the maids helped her with her dress. Her long black hair fell on her bare back and clothed her in a soft beautiful web. Elizaveta was content. She was speaking the truth when she has confessed to her husband. She knew he had doubts about the marriage, but that was the best answer she could give him. It wasn’t love. What IS true love? She never experienced one. She often heard from her ladies in the close circle about their lovers and how much they were in love. Did she believe them? Did she believe in love itself? She had no idea whether or not she would ever have a chance to discover such a feeling. As of now the emotion was distant to her, and very much unknown. She put her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine Him- the lover of her dreams. She pictured him from any possible angle, with any possible look and conversation. As she was drifting off to sleep, she imagined her fantasy was coming alive and he was coming for her – a handsome man with black hair and dark eyes. His eyes were so deep and luring, she felt they could swallow her whole and bring her to another world, a fantasy yet so real she could feel his passionate look upon her face.

The white lacy curtains were flowing up and down in her room as the wind was touching them with its majestic wings. Elizaveta was asleep. The sound of a burning flickering candle was dying out into the night leaving a weak smoky white trace. Everything was quiet. The large engraved mirrors on the wall were breathing with magic. Their reflection of a beautiful woman in her bed was mystical and yet lucid. The dreams were following one another in a long magnificent charade, leaving Elizaveta the only witness to her magical and most alluring fantasies. As the middle of the night approached, a black raven flew in and sat by the open window.

He looked ravishing. Black shiny feathers were releasing a golden flare as he moved his head trying to see inside the room. The white curtains opened wide and the black raven flew in. He was looking at sleeping Elizaveta with its black piercing eyes. He moved closer to her face putting out the last of the candle flame. The room turned dark. The raven released a gentle sound waking the sleeping beauty. She opened her eyes and looked at the black bird with her puzzling expression.

What do you want? she whispered.

The raven slowly started to take a human form turning into a man. His beak turned into a human nose, his black feathers took a form of a man’s coat. Elizaveta couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She looked at the strange apparition without saying a word. She desperately looked around and then gazed back at the nightly creature. The man was looking straight at her.

I am waiting for you, sister... the man’s voice echoed into the night and then he disappeared.

Everything was quiet again. Elizaveta sat in her bed breathless. She was convinced that it was only her imagination. She slowly got up to close the window. Before she did, she opened the white curtain and looked deeply into the black night. The crescent Moon was ominously reflecting in the dark lake by the mansion, luring its majestic presence with its peaceful ripples. She was looking for her mysterious visitor but he was nowhere to be found. Elizaveta closed the window and went back to her bed. She couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of her vision, whether magical or genuine- she didn’t know. Deep down in her heart, she wanted it to be real…

The next morning the guests arrived to the Liszt castle for one of the most lavish parties of the century. The Count loved his social gatherings and he made sure every party was better than the one before. The musicians were ready to play and the wine was set. The guests were coming in with their entourage and settling in for the night. Elizaveta was getting dressed in her bedroom. The maid was fussing over her tying her lace and attending to her every need. Elizaveta was looking at her reflection in the dim lit mirror. Her dark eyes were scrutinizing every detail of her face, her dress and her hair. She was silent. The maid kept on tugging her back lace tighter and tighter. The dress was magnificent. Many layers of best quality red silk made their way down to her golden laced shoes. Her luxurious black shiny hair was held up with a beautiful golden brooch. Elizaveta was ravishing. Her vanity was never one of her flaws but this evening it was going to make its pretentious appearance.

The party room was breathtaking. The guests were bluntly lounging around the beautiful velvet sofas and some were standing or walking by holding a glass of wine. The conversation was enticing and flirtatious on both sides, not of a timid nature. Elizaveta’s husband was mingling with the guests entangling them with the most delightful remarks when it came to women and business propositions when it came to men. He was not of a shy character and knew very well where to place his trust and money. Elizaveta entered the room and found herself in the world of unbridled intimacy and sinful passions, the world available at her feet any time she wanted to enter it. Her husband was a nice caring man and he could overlook many indecent traits in his wife’s character. Was it love? He couldn’t place it quiet well. He knew he loved his young wife very much yet something was missing in their marriage. He wasn’t trying to admit it to himself any time soon, which is why he kept on tolerating Elizaveta’s flirting with various men on a constant pattern. Elizaveta looked around and spotted a nice temporary getaway standing alone by the fireplace. She approached him with a confident smile.

Would you like to play the charades? she asked the man who looked at her with a longing gaze. He took her hand and gently put a passionate long kiss on it.

Well of course, Countess. Your sweet demand is my most wishful aspiration…

He followed her into the other chamber without letting go of her hand. The room was dim lit with beautiful candles. It was full of ladies and their men chaperones lounging on the velvet plush sofas. The men sat on the floor by the ladies’ feet. Elizaveta took her newly found prey and placed him on the sofa with a suggestive look in her dark beautiful eyes. Jouliana, an attractive woman in her early thirties, lay on the nearby sofa exposing her bare leg. Two men were sitting around her on the sofa – one was caressing her neck with a soft feather and the other one was holding her hand in his. She was laughing. A male servant played a harp in the corner of the room. Elizaveta stood in the center of the room.

Are you ready for the charades, my little dear creatures of the night..? she slowly observed the room with her investigating look and loudly pronounced.

I would like to propose a challenge! Shall we do something different this time, something with more...

Desire, Countess..? Jouliana smiled at one of her suitors.

I thought the only one who was capable of reading my mind was my husband, she said with a flirty expression on her face.

"With all due respect, Countess, your husband is the only one who is allowed to read your mind," she laughed.

Elizaveta bowed to her lady friend and made a hand gesture to the servant who stood by the door. The door opened and another male servant walked in and approached the Countess. He whispered in her ear.

I see Countess has secrets, said one of Jouliana’s male friends.

Can you also see I am not willing to share them with you..? Elizaveta smiled at the man.

May I have a pleasure to assume I happen to be one of them? he continued flirting with her.

Jouliana gently smacked him with her handkerchief. Elizaveta smiled at him. The doors opened and two servants walked in the room dressed for a charade riddle. One was dressed as a lady angel. He had a white flowing gown on and golden shoes. He had a benevolent look upon his face to portrait a spiritual being. The other man was dressed in black with a knife tied to his shoulder. He had a sinister grin on his face. The man in white kneeled down onto the floor and mimed to start praying. The ladies and men expressed interest and started shouting guesses about what might have been happening.

An angel, who is fighting evil! Some kind of confinement, one of the ladies said.

A repenting soul trying to escape the wrath of the consequence... Elizaveta’s friend said.

A doomed soul! A broken promise, a temptation itself! shouted one of the men.

Jouliana stood up and started applauding Elizaveta. The rest of the guests joined her and applauded Elizaveta for this great theatrical amusement. Elizaveta gestured them to stop. She put her finger to her lips. The guests quieted down and waited for what was about to come next. The door opened softly once more and a young peasant girl timidly walked into the room shivering. She did not look at the guests and kept gazing at the floor. Elizaveta turned to her bedazzled company. In her soft mysterious voice, she whispered:

My dear guests! You are about to experience the most extraordinary performance in the history of charade. I promise the most vivid visual effects and plenty of room for imagination! Those of you with a weak stomach are best not to watch…

She moved away giving more space to the peasant girl and the scene itself. She blew a kiss to the spectators and smiled at her new friend. Jouliana threw a velvet pillow at one of her suitors and trembled with excitement. One of the young men softly kissed her foot. The play began to unveil with the man dressed in black approaching the shivering peasant. She had white undergarments hardly covering her breasts and exposing most of her thin body. The girl lay down on the floor with her eyes closed. The man in the white angel dress started walking around the girl pretending to cry. The man dressed in a black coat mimicked to caress the girl’s body with his knife. The guests started to shout.

A desperate wife who has discovered her unfaithful husband with another! said one of the ladies in the corner who sat on a man’s knees with her breasts half exposed.

With a desire for vengeance! said someone from another side of the room.

The man dressed in the black coat kneeled down in front of his victim and gently cut her between her legs with his knife. The girl screamed. A few drops of blood appeared on the girl’s white gown. The guests got quiet. Everyone was looking at the scene without releasing a single sound. Jouliana shrugged her shoulders and smiled. She slightly kicked one of the suitors with her foot.

It’s incredible! she said. I know, I know! A restless conscience seeking to bring punishment upon a head of a sinner?? she laughed.

The rest of the guests relaxed more and started shouting their guesses again. The man dressed in white mimicked to cry.

Jealousy! The mind that struggles through a tyrannizing feeling when the eyes refuse to see a betrayal! shouted one of the guests.

The man in the black coat cut the girl again with her releasing yet another scream for help. The girl in the scene began to sob. One of the ladies slowly stood up and looked around. Other few ladies did the same.

I don’t think this is a good idea… one of them said looking at the charade scene. Perhaps we should play another charade…?

Elizaveta stepped onto the scene. She looked at the pleading girl bleeding from under the garment.

Incessant cries of passion… she softly said to her guests. When the body is left too weak trembling after an endless night of love. What could be more inspiring?.. she looked around and grabbed the knife from the hands of the man playing the illusory assassin.

She leaned over the girl. She slowly raised the knife above the crying victim. Everyone was holding their breath. One of the ladies leaned over to her friend and whispered: A well-rehearsed act... a grand theater. It’s marvelous.

Elizaveta was about to penetrate the knife through the helpless victim when she saw a desperate look in the girl’s eyes pleading for mercy. Elizaveta sat frozen with the knife in her hands above her forged victim.

"The end of virginity...a sacrifice of purity and innocence. Deliverance