NOVEL NEXT Chapter 40: Well
Nicholas moved down the stairs, the darkness pressing closer with every step. His breath was shallow, his pulse drumming in his ears like the beat of some terrible warning. He couldn’t see where the stairs would end—if they ended at all—and the air grew colder, sharper, with every descent. Had he chosen the way to his undoing? he was still unsure if the stairs lead him right.
His legs burned and the spiral of the staircase made him dizzy, and he pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself. The rough stone was damp beneath his palm, slick with years of moisture.
At last, his foot found flat ground. Before him was a door, small and iron-bound, with a window so tangled in ivy that it looked more like a piece of the wall than an entrance. He hesitated, listening to the eerie stillness. His hand shivered and his heart pounded in the silence, so loud it seemed impossible that no one else could hear it. The sound of the church bells still loud.
He grasped the bolt and pulled. The door gave just a fraction, a sliver of a gap letting in the faintest whisper of air. It wasn’t enough. Nicholas braced himself, setting his weight against it. With a groan of rusted metal, the door gave way, and he stumbled forward, gasping at the cold rush of air that hit him.
The castle grounds stretched before him, vast and shadowed in the faint light of the moon. He didn’t know how long he had before the search extended here, but it couldn’t be long. He ducked low, slipping into the nearest cover he could find—a row of shrubs whose sharp branches tore at his skin. He winced as they pricked him, tiny pinpricks of blood dotting his hands.
From his place, he saw the eastern wall of the castle rising in the distance. He knew that wall well. He had scaled it before, even when his arm had been useless with a bullet wound. It wasn’t impossible. He could do it again.
But as he crouched, ready to make his move, a shout cut through the stillness. “I see him!”
For a moment, time froze, and it was like the world itself paused. The sweat on his face dripping as he heard the sound echo in the night. Nicholas felt his pulse stall before it burst into frantic motion. Then came the barking, loud and vicious. The dogs. He knew those dogs—lean, powerful creatures trained to track and maul. If they had given them his clothes to smell, they would catch his scent in moments.
It’s fine, he told himself, though his mind said otherwise. He had climbed a wall with a bullet wound; he could climb it now. Even if it cost him a limb, he would climb.
His feet moved before his thoughts caught up. He darted out of the bushes, the garden a blur of dark shapes and pale moonlight. Windows above lit up, students and guards peering out to watch the commotion. Nicholas didn’t look up. He couldn’t. This wasn’t about pride anymore—this was survival.
He ran until he could feel the burn in his chest, until he thought his legs might give way. The barking grew closer, louder, more feral. Ahead of him, the low stone wall of a well appeared, and he tripped, crashing into it.
He fell hard, the impact knocking the lamp from his grasp. The glass shattered, shards slicing into his palms and scattering across the ground. The light flickered out, leaving only the faint glow of something from inside the well. Nicholas blinked, dazed, as he noticed it—a strange, otherworldly light seeping from the cracks in the well’s stone.
A faint sound came next, a low moan rising from the shallow water. It wasn’t the wind; it was too human for that. Nicholas leaned closer, his breath catching as he peered into the dark opening. A man, pale and gaunt, clung to a single ledge within the well. His candlelight flickered weakly, illuminating eyes that pleaded with Nicholas.
But Nicholas couldn’t save him. Not now. Not tonight. It was a trophy hunt and his head was up for grabs. He could not risk it. He ripped off his coat and his undercoat tossing them into the well as a desperate distraction. The man’s eyes widened in disbelief as the door slammed shut above him. Nicholas turned and ran, leaving the well behind.
The barking reached the well moments later. The dogs clawed and snarled at the stone, as though they, too, had sensed something interesting that lay below.
Nicholas didn’t stop to look back. He bolted for the trees, the dark canopy promising the cover he needed to reach the wall. It wasn’t salvation—not yet—but it was the only hope he had left.
There was no time for questions, no time to help. Yet the memory of the man’s candlelit face—pleading, accusing, haunting—lingered. His hands shook as he climbed the tree, readying himself to hop across the wall. It would be lucky if he could reach for it but he had to try.
He peeked back, just for a moment. The dogs circled the well, their claws raking against the wood like they knew something Nicholas didn’t. Their masters weren’t far behind. He could hear their boots crunching through the garden paths, their shouts growing louder.
“Spread out!” someone barked. “He’s here somewhere!”
Nicholas didn’t need to see their faces to know they were close. He clenched his fists and focused on the trees ahead. The eastern wall loomed just beyond, dark and foreboding against the moonlit sky. It was his only chance.
He climbed using the branches, ignoring the sharp sting of brambles tearing at his skin. The bark was rough under his fingers as he scaled the trunk, his body protesting with every movement.
He climbed higher, the world shrinking below him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his muscles burned. But he didn’t stop. The shouts and barking faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic beat of his heart and the rustling of leaves.
At the top, he paused to catch his breath. From here, he could see the castle in its entirety, every tower and wall illuminated by the searchlights. Figures moved like shadows across the grounds, searching for him. Each person he counted running around the grounds made him feel happy. This was all for him. Only for him.
He leaped from the tree to the wall, his fingers barely finding purchase on the cold stone. His feet slipped, but he held on, gritting his teeth and forcing himself upward. Inch by inch, he climbed, every movement became a struggle.
When he reached the top, he crouched low, scanning the area. The woods beyond the wall stretched endlessly, dark and inviting. Freedom was just a leap away. But before he could move, a noise from below caught his attention.
The dogs were howling, their cries frantic and piercing. The men gathered around the well, their torches casting flickering shadows on the stone.
“Did he go down there?” someone asked.
“No,” another voice replied. “It’s sealed shut.”
“Then why are the dogs so fixated on it?”
"Let them be,"
"Shouldn't we check?"
"I said let it be! What don't you understand about my instructions?"
Nicholas couldn’t hear the answer, but the scene sent a chill down his spine. Whatever was in that well, it had drawn the attention of beasts and men alike. He turned away, his jaw set. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.
He leaped down from the wall, landing in a crouch on the other side. The forest greeted him with open arms. The sounds of the hunt faded as he ran deeper, each leap taking him further from the castle.
The smaller the castle got, however, the more memory of the man in the well lingered. Nicholas couldn’t shake the feeling that he had left behind more than just his torn coat and shirt. Something far more sinister had been awakened in the castle that night—and whether he liked it or not, it was tied to him now.