Maya's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Maya was two hours from home when her car began to smoke. Home meant the small town where she grew up, the place she'd been dreaming of all semester at college. Now steam poured from under the hood, gray against the dark road. She coasted onto the gravel and killed the engine. Her phone screen stayed black. Dead since noon. She pressed her forehead to the wheel and told herself she wasn't afraid. Outside, the air smelled of pine and cooling metal. She zipped her leather jacket and tugged her green dress straight. Her boots crunched as she walked to the front and lifted the hood. Heat rolled up into her face. She knew nothing about engines. That was the truth of it. Evening was almost gone. No headlights came. No houses. She turned in a slow circle and stopped. On the far hill stood the castle. Dark stone. Thin spires like needles against the last light. She knew that shape. As a child she'd been told it was haunted, that no one who went in came out. But every trip home, that castle told her she was close. Faint yellow light glowed in its windows now. Someone was there. She had two choices. Wait in a dead car all night, or walk toward the only light for miles. Maya grabbed her keys and started up the road. The walk took an hour. Her legs ached by the gate. The iron doors stood open, just wide enough. She stepped through into a courtyard, then a great hall lit by candles. A man stood at the top of a wide staircase. He had not been there a second ago. His black hair curled to his collar. He wore a dark coat and a deep red vest, the kind of clothes she'd only seen in old paintings. He came down the steps without a sound. "You should not have walked so far in the cold," he said. His voice was low and even. His brown eyes caught the candlelight and turned almost red. Maya took a step back. "My car broke down. My phone's dead. I saw your lights." He stopped a few feet away and studied her face. Something in his stillness made her heart pound. He did not blink enough. He did not breathe like a man who had just climbed stairs. "I am Draven," he said. "You are welcome here. Few come to my door." His gaze lingered, and for a moment his careful face slipped into something like grief. "You look like someone I knew. A long time ago." "What happened to her?" Maya asked. Draven did not answer. For a moment he just stood, then he said “She passed away.” And that was all he said. Maya did not want to press him. The castle was beautiful. She was inside the haunted castle but it didn’t seem haunted at all. The doors were closed. On a wall above a fireplace there was a painting of a beautiful woman dressed from the 1800s she looked so similar to Maya.