The Horror of Castle Bleck

Epilogue

If you possessed the unmatchable chutzpah to venture thus far, then you have ventured to the end of our tale dear reader. It woes me to tell you this morbid news, but alas, all works must come to an end sometime or the other. I would like to tell you that this tale had a happy ending, that Nastasia and Blumiere loved one another greatly, and prospered and rebuilt the halls of Castle Bleck. This is not the case however, as in this present day, Castle Bleck stands remote, empty, and broken.

The windows are shattered, the edifice is crumpled. The shingles are missing and loose in several places, the weathervane unhinged. The spires and battlements are cracked and leaning, the cobblestone drive is arrogated by the fleet of dead grass surrounding it.

Inside, the vivid detail of Blumiere's portrait is weathering, the halls are vacant and the rooms are stained with the remnants of blood. Corpses are strewn about. The bones of Mimi were reduced to dust by exposure to the elements, but the cadavers upstairs, or on the second level, due to the lack of stairs, are peacefully resting.

Pennington's bones are situated nicely in his bed. Blythe rests uninterrupted. Lisette lies with the knife in her bosom.

Dear reader, I am not the kind of writer that leaves you fuming with an unclear ending. It is true that night was only the testament to Nastasia's choice. We left her gazing out of the ravine, deciding whether or not to take her own life. It would seem…silly…to take one's life after such a ghoulish and righteous adventure. Bringing iniquity to its knees, Nastasia sat on the throne of heroism. But she still loved Blumiere, as uncouth as it was to him. The ghostly lord had abandoned her, knowing that love could not bind the two.

So mesmerized by the ability to end her own life, Nastasia did not notice the fleeting clouds and the dawn of the new day, she noticed not the transcendence of a new opportunity. She could have noticed all of this and carried herself with dignity to somewhere decorous, and delivered a sermon of unparalleled and gripping horror and conquest, with a force to be shaped into a best-selling novel, or a whimsical letter or something that the world had never seen.

She had stopped a seemingly imminent destruction.

This was not her forte however, to notice. Had she possessed this specialty, and been cognizant of Blumiere's feelings from the beginning, she would not have implored of him the unequipped ability to love. Nastasia did not notice however, and upon realizing what she hadn't been able to realize at all, she waved her foot over the edge of the rift. Dipping her heel ever so slightly, testing the bridge between life and death, she challenged the faculties of her will.

Blumiere, fleet-footed and disturbed, did not look back. He did not stop the passionate burst that evinced itself in the midst of her lunacy. So, without a protector or a heart to pour her feelings over, she made her choice.

And plunged herself into the ravine.

She did not jump, or sway, or stumble, but graceful and silently, she let her body swing over the edge and fall. In doing so, the true horror of Castle Bleck was divulged.

No matter what one will do for love, it cannot be engendered without stimulation on both ends.

For the sake of brevity…

Love is a curse.

A curse so vile and so barbaric, that those who are plagued by its presence will succumb to it involuntarily. Like being caught in a snare, Nastasia was a hapless victim of love's machinations.

So dear reader, if one thing is to be taken for this macabre tale.

Do not love without a cause, do not throw your passions without planning, and above all, do not believe that something broken needs to fixed.

Blumiere's heart was broken, Timpani had died in his arms. Nastasia could not provide the love he required, for it was not required at all. She fought a worthless battle, one that weaved itself in between the machinations of Dimentio and Jaydes, one that was overshadowed by the destruction of the universe.

She didn't notice it though, she never did.

Where I leave you reader, is a horrible place to leave one. It is something I am ashamed to do, but someone must deliver this tale and I took it upon myself to do so.

And perhaps I didn't notice something too.

Whenever something so picayune and so worthless is being fought for, there must be a reason. Nastasia's efforts and her incessant plight to capture Blumiere's love were not all for naught, they couldn't have been.

What is love without a cause?

Horror, absolute and unparalleled horror. This said horror circles itself around the chateau known as Castle Bleck, so obscure from the rest of the world, its perils unsung and unheard.

That dear reader, is the horror of Castle Bleck.