Chapter 4
AS the carriages rumbled towards D'Arque's asylum once the men had ensured the horse pulling Belle's carriage had been tended to and the women were made more comfortable now that they had been discovered, Belle couldn't help but steal glances at Adam out the window, who sat stoically in his carriage. The weight of his unspoken words bore down on her, and the silence between them was as deafening as the rumble of the carriage wheels against the uneven and muddy path.
Brielle shifted uncomfortably beside her, the blonde not having spoken much to Belle since they had gotten underway once more. She could sense the princess's inner turmoil, and though her voice remained quiet, her presence was a reassuring anchor amidst the storm.
The journey was proving to be far more challenging than they had anticipated.
While the initial excitement of leaving the castle had been exhilarating, the reality of their situation was slowly sinking in. Belle's actions, driven by her relentless pursuit of answers to her curse, had jeopardized her husband's mission and strained her relationship with Adam as it was.
With every passing mile, Belle's thoughts became a turbulent whirlwind.
She knew she had to face the consequences of her choices, but the uncertainty of what Adam's judgment would entail when they returned home gnawed at her. Would he be willing to forgive her, to understand the desperation that had driven her to act against his wishes?
The carriage jolted suddenly, causing Belle to clutch the armrest of her seat for support. It was a harsh reminder that their path to D'Arque's asylum was fraught with danger, both external and internal. They were not just battling the treacherous road, but the emotions that threatened to unravel their bond.
The journey to D'Arque's asylum seemed endless, the minutes stretching into hours. Belle's mind raced as she contemplated how to bridge the chasm that had opened between her and Adam. She yearned to reach out to him, to break the icy silence that separated them, but she feared his reaction.
Brielle, sensing Belle's inner turmoil, offered a gentle word of encouragement. "Perhaps, when the time is right, you can explain your motives to him. He might understand why you took such drastic actions."
Belle nodded, appreciating Brielle's unwavering support.
She knew that communication was the key to mending their relationship. Her love for Adam had always been a beacon of hope in their darkest moments, and she couldn't let it flicker and fade now.
Finally, the carriages came to a halt before the imposing structure of D'Arque's asylum. The ominous building loomed before them, a stark reminder of the trials they would face within its walls.
Adam, who had remained distant throughout the remainder of their journey, was the first to disembark from their carriages, the litter shaking with the heaviness of his footsteps. His eyes met Belle's briefly, revealing a mixture of apprehension and determination. It was a silent acknowledgment that their unresolved issues would have to wait. As they disembarked, Belle cast an apprehensive glance towards the asylum. The building rose like a foreboding sentinel, its aged stones bearing the scars of time.
Gothic arches framed narrow windows that seemed to peer out like watchful eyes, shrouded in shadows. The asylum stood on the outskirts of the Wolves' Woods and an unnatural hush seemed to pervade the air, broken only by the distant howls of unseen creatures.
Tall, gnarled trees encroached upon the asylum's grounds, their branches twisting in unnatural contortions that seemed to mirror the tormented souls within.
As they disembarked, they were greeted by the austere figure of monsieur d'arque himself. His piercing gaze seemed to strip away their secrets, and Belle felt a shiver run down her spine.
It was clear that this meeting with the asylum's keeper would be no simple task. It was obvious that he was a man who thrived on power and reveled in the discomfort of those who sought his assistance.
Their journey thus far had brought them to this critical juncture, where past actions and future decisions hung in the balance. Belle knew they could afford any ill mishaps, both in their quest to break her curse and in their attempts to mend their rift. Belle was pulled from her thoughts and her staring at the intimidating asylum by the sound of Monsieur D'Arque's voice as the man drew breath to greet them.
"Your Majesties, welcome to my asylum," he intoned, his deep baritone voice dripping with an unsettling blend of curiosity and condescension. "I am Monsieur D'Arque, the keeper of this institution. To what do I owe the honor of your visit this morning, Your Grace?" he questioned, flicking his gaze towards Adam and pinning him with a look.
Belle exchanged a weary glance with Adam before interjecting and responding before her husband could part his lips to speak.
"Good morning, Monsieur, we, ah, do not intend to take up too much of your time this afternoon, but we were hoping you could tell us of a previous resident you housed here in your…institution," she mumbled, her tongue suddenly feeling thick in her mouth as her gaze was once more drawn to the building.
Monsieur D'Arque's thin smile twisted into something darker as he considered Belle's question.
His eyes, small and calculating, never left Belle's face. "Perhaps such matters are best discussed within the privacy of my own office. Please, come."
The elderly gentleman motioned with a curt wave of his arm for Belle and Adam to follow. They could only comply and left Brielle and Lumiere in the carriages alongside the rest of the Prince's guards.
As Belle and Adam entered the asylum's dimly lit foyer, they were enveloped in a suffocating sense of unease. The cold stone walls were adorned with faded portraits of long-forgotten individuals, their eyes seeming to follow the intruders' every move. Dusty, moth-eaten curtains billowed softly in the cold and drafty corridors, and the creaking of the wooden floors echoed like haunting whispers. It was a place where time had stood still, preserving the melancholy of its past and present inhabitants.
"You will find that all knowledge comes at a price, Your Grace," Monsieur D'Arque continued with a sly smile, leading Adam, and Belle deeper into the asylum's labyrinth interior. "But it is a price I am willing to discuss in a moment. Here we are, inside, and quickly if you please, to keep the warm air in."
He opened a door at the end of the corridor and quickly ushered Adam and Belle inside, and as they ventured inside, they couldn't help but wonder if they had traded one dark mystery for another, more insidious one as the asylum's dark secrets and unsettling presence of its enigmatic keeper loomed.
Monsieur D'Arque strode into his private office with quick, purposeful steps. He took a seat behind an ornate polished mahogany desk and motioned for Adam and Belle to occupy the two chairs in front of them. They could only comply. He watched them intently as Adam guided Belle towards the chair and helped her to sit down, leaning back in his ornate chair, the leather creaking ominously under his weight.
It was another moment or two before he spoke.
"A previous resident is what brought you to me today, you say, Princess?" Monsieur D'Arque inquired, feigning innocence. "I'm afraid my memory is not what it used to be, my lady. Our establishment has seen many poor troubled souls pass through its doors over the years."
Belle felt her lips pursed in disapproval. She wasn't fooled by his act. She knew with just one look that D'Arque had information that he was keeping from them, that he was unwilling to share willingly.
She leaned forward in her chair, her eyes narrowing with determination.
"I speak of Agathe, Monsieur, perhaps you will remember her name. She was a woman who lived in my village, before," Belle pressed, her voice steady. "She was a woman who possessed the gift of magic and was brought here by your men instead of being escorted to prison by the king's order. I demand to know why you would disobey a direct order from France's king himself when you know full well the penalty for doing so, and how the Enchantress came to die while in your care."
Adam placed a reassuring hand on Belle's shoulder, but her resolve remained unshaken.
Monsieur D'Arque's eyes darted briefly to the Prince's hand on Belle's shoulder, and his smile faded.
"Agathe, you say, Your Highness?" D'Arque muttered, his gaze shifting away from Belle's. "I do not know any such person. Perhaps you are mistaken, madame."
Belle felt frustration bubble within her as her patience with the man wore thin.
She had anticipated that Monsieur D'Arque would initially be reluctant to reveal the truth behind his actions, but she was determined to uncover his sinister secret.
"I assure you, Monsieur D'Arque, that my husband and I are not mistaken, monsieur, far from it," she stated firmly. "Agathe was a victim of your cruelty, and we are here to seek justice for her and learn the truth. You will tell us everything you know about her, or we will take our concerns directly to the king."
D'Arque's mask of indifference cracked, revealing a glimmer of unease.
He knew that the king would not take kindly to his disobedience and the mistreatment of a woman with magical abilities. With a frustrated, resigned sigh, he spoke.
"Very well, Lady," he conceded, his voice low and filled with bitterness. "Agathe was indeed a resident of this asylum. She was brought here by my men, but it was not by my choice. There were…forces at play that I could not openly defy. As for her fate, it was indeed a tragic one, I assure you. But if you truly seek the answers you seek, you must tread carefully, Your Highness, for there are darker secrets in these walls than either of you can imagine."
Belle exchanged a glance with Adam, knowing that they were now on the precipice of a harrowing journey into the past, determined to uncover the truth behind Agathe's mysterious and tragic existence within the asylum.
Adam's grip on Belle's arm tightened as his anger flared. His eyes bore into D'Arque's with a fiery intensity.
"Enough of your evasions, Monsieur D'Arque," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, the sound stuffing the chills down Belle's throat. "We demand answers. How did Agathe, the Enchantress, meet her end in this place? Tell us, or there will be consequences."
D'Arque hesitated, clearly weighing the implications of his next words.
He had been the keeper of this asylum for a long time, and he knew that the truth could unravel his carefully constructed world of secrets and whispers.
"Very well," he relented, though his voice was tinged with reluctance. "Agathe's death…It was not a natural one, Your Highness. She had been ill after months housed here, yes, but it was not her illness that took her life. There was a darkness that surrounded her, a malevolent force that seemed drawn to her magic. She spoke of a curse, a curse that clung to her like a shadow, one she could not be rid of."
Adam's anger was now mixed with a growing sense of dread. The revelation only raised more questions.
"A curse? What kind of curse?" he demanded, his hoarse voice unyielding.
D'Arque leaned forward in his chair once more, his eyes narrowing as he steepled his fingers together, behaving as if he were revealing a closely guarded secret, and for all Belle knew of this man, perhaps D'Arque was.
"She called it the Curse of the Rose, Your Grace. She believed it was tied to her magical abilities, a curse that would consume her. She grew weaker by the day, and her cries echoed through these halls."
Belle's heart sank at the mention of the Curse of the Rose. She had read tales in more than a few books back home in the castle's library of such a wretched curse, Dark magic that entwined itself with its victim's very soul, draining them of their lifeforce and their beauty.
"But why did you not seek help for her?" Belle pressed, her voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger as she pinned the asylum keeper with a look of furious disapproval.
Monsieur D'Arque's expression turned cold. "Seeking help for the witch would have exposed her and the secrets of this place to the outside world, madame. I could not allow that. So, I…I did what I thought was necessary to protect my family's asylum's reputation, Lady."
Adam's grip on Belle's arm tightened even further, his anger boiling over. "You let that woman suffer and die to protect your secrets? You truly are a monster, Monsieur D'Arque, more than I ever was."
D'Arque recoiled slightly at Adam's accusation, but there was a hint of resignation in the man's pale grey eyes.
"I am…not proud of the choices I made, Your Highness, whether you take in my words or not, but the darkness that enveloped this place the night she passed…it was beyond my control."
Belle and Adam exchanged a solemn look, understanding that they had uncovered only a fraction of the truth. Their quest for justice and the truth about Agathe's death had just begun, and it was bound to lead them down a treacherous path filled with danger and dark secrets.
Belle took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Monsieur D'Arque's as she continued, "There is more to this story, Monsieur D'Arque. Agathe had a sister, Lenore, also a witch as Agathe was. She…she has placed a curse on me."
D'Arque's eyes widened at the mention of another curse. He leaned forward, his interest piqued by this revelation.
"A curse on you, madame? Pray, tell me more."
Belle spoke in hushed tones as she recounted the events that had unfolded after Agathe's death.
She described how Adam had begun to suffer from troubling nightmares, haunted by visions of the Enchantress that left him sleepless at night. She detailed how they had performed a ritual steeped in ancient magic to uncover the truth of Agathe's intentions, seeking answers to the mystery that shrouded her.
"But our pursuit of the truth took an unexpected turn," Belle continued, her voice filled with a sense of unease. "Lenore, Agathe's sister, paid us an unexpected visit. She had discovered the truth of her sister's demise and, somehow, believed that the Prince was responsible for Agathe's death."
Adam's expression grew somber as he remembered the chilling encounter with Lenore.
"She accused me of being the cause of her sister's suffering and death," he added. "Her grief had twisted into rage, and she sought vengeance against me."
Belle nodded and then went on to describe how Lenore had unleashed a curse upon her, a curse that caused unbearable physical pain as if her very insides were being torn apart.
Adam, his anger tempered by concern for his wife, added, "Lenore's curse on Belle is a curse of agony, of suffering that gnaws at her from the inside. She condemned Belle to a life of unending torment if we cannot undo this curse in six months or unless I give myself up to the witch willingly, a slow descent into withering and rotting, to suffer, as she believes Agathe suffered here while in your care."
Adam, his jaw clenched with frustration and worry, added, "We have been searching for a way to break the curses that bind us, but the answers remain elusive. The source of this dark magic remains a mystery, and we fear that the key to unraveling it lies hidden within the walls of this asylum."
D'Arque, despite his earlier reticence, now appeared genuinely intrigued by the depth of their predicament. His expression shifted from condescension to something more akin to understanding.
"I see," he murmured, his gaze focused on Belle's pained face. "The curses that bind you are no ordinary enchantments. They are born from the turmoil of grief and vengeance, from the complex ties of familial love and betrayal. To break such curses, you will need more than magic; you will need to delve into the darkest corners of your souls."
Belle and Adam exchanged a determined look. They had come to this foreboding place seeking answers, and they were now resolved to uncover the truth, no matter how treacherous the path ahead.
They knew that the secrets hidden within the asylum were the key to unlocking the mysteries of Agathe, Lenore, and the curses that bound them all.
"Whatever it takes," Belle said with unwavering resolve, "we will find a way to break these curses and put an end to this cycle of suffering."
D'Arque nodded slowly, acknowledging the gravity of their quest.
"Very well," he said, his voice low and filled with a sense of foreboding. "The journey you are embarking upon is perilous, and the secrets you seek may come at a high price. But if you are determined to confront the darkness that looms over you, then you must be prepared to face the shadows that dwell within this asylum."
Monsieur D'Arque leaned forward, his expression grave. "If you are truly committed to unveiling the secrets that surround Agathe, Lenore, and the curses that entangle you, then there is a place you should visit," he suggested, his voice laden with caution. "The cell that had once been Agathe's, holds memories and echoes of the past. It may provide you with clues that could guide your quest."
Belle and Adam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of D'Arque's suggestion.
The prospect of visiting the very cell where Agathe had been confined was both eerie and daunting, but they knew it was a necessary step on their journey to uncover the truth.
"We are willing to explore any avenue that may lead us to answers," Adam said, his voice resolute. "Show us to Agathe's cell."
D'Arque nodded slowly, rising from his ornate chair. He moved to the door, gesturing for them to follow him. "Very well, follow me. But be prepared for what you may find within those walls. The past has a way of leaving its mark, even on the darkest corners of this asylum."
As they made their way through the dimly lit corridors, the air grew heavy with anticipation. Belle and Adam were acutely aware that they were stepping deeper into a world of secrets and shadows, one where curses and mysteries intertwined, and the fate of Agathe, Lenore, and themselves remained uncertain.
Finally, they arrived at a heavy, iron-bound door. D'Arque produced a key and turned the lock, revealing the small, desolate cell that had once held Agathe. The room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a faint shaft of light that penetrated through a barred window.
"This is where Agathe spent her days," D'Arque murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It is said that she saw things here, things that none of us could understand."
Belle and Adam entered the cell, the weight of its history pressing down upon them.
They could almost feel the presence of Agathe, her anguish, and her desperate search for answers.
As they began to search for any clues that might shed light on the past, Belle couldn't help but wonder what secrets this cell held.
What had Agathe discovered in her time here, and how had it all led to the curses that now bound them?
The answers remained elusive, but they were determined to uncover the truth, no matter how dark or dangerous the journey might become.
In the dim light of Agathe's cell, Belle and Adam began their search. The room bore the signs of its previous inhabitant's existence—a small, worn cot, a scratched and faded wall where Agathe might have etched her thoughts, and a musty smell that hinted at years of confinement.
Belle carefully examined the wall, tracing her fingers over faint markings. She couldn't decipher them at first, but as she continued to study the patterns, she realized they were not random scratches but intricate symbols. Symbols of magic.
"Adam, look at this," she whispered, beckoning him over.
Adam joined her, his eyes narrowing as he examined the symbols. "These are magical runes," he said in a low voice. "Agathe must have used them to record her thoughts or perhaps cast spells within this cell."
D'Arque, who had been observing their investigation, raised an eyebrow. "It seems Agathe had a deeper connection to magic than I had imagined."
Belle continued her examination, her fingers tracing the symbols, trying to understand their meaning. It was as if Agathe had left behind a cryptic message, one that begged to be deciphered.
As they searched further, they discovered a hidden compartment beneath the cot, revealing a small journal. Its pages were filled with Agathe's handwritten entries, detailing her time in the asylum, her encounters with darkness, and her growing desperation to break free from her curse.
Belle's heart ached as she read Agathe's words. "She was in so much pain, so alone," she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes. "But she never gave up. She was determined to find a way to break her curse and make the world a better place."
Adam placed a comforting hand on Belle's shoulder, sharing in her sorrow for Agathe's tragic fate. They knew they had stumbled upon a significant piece of the puzzle, but there was still much they didn't understand.
D'Arque watched them silently, his face unreadable.
"Agathe's determination and her connection to magic may hold the key to unraveling the curses that bind you both," he finally said, breaking the somber silence. "But beware, for the forces at play here are ancient and formidable. To uncover the truth, you must be prepared to confront the darkest aspects of your past."
Belle and Adam exchanged another resolute look, their determination stronger than ever.
They had taken another step in their quest for answers, and they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Leaving Agathe's cell behind, they knew that they were not alone on this journey.
Agathe's spirit and the weight of her suffering would guide them, as would their unyielding love and determination to break the curses that bound them and put an end to the shadows that loomed over their lives.
As Belle and Adam left Agathe's cell, they couldn't shake the eerie feeling that they were being watched, that the very walls of the asylum held secrets and memories that were now awakening in their presence.
It was as though the spirits of those who had suffered within these walls were urging them to press onward, to uncover the truth that had been hidden for so long.
Their next destination was clear: they needed to learn more about Lenore, Agathe's vengeful sister, and the events that had led her to believe that Prince Adam was responsible for her sister's demise.
Perhaps by understanding Lenore's motivations and the depth of her grief, they could find a way to break the curse that tormented Belle.
"Where can we find more information about Agathe's sister Lenore?" Belle asked D'Arque, her voice resolute.
D'Arque hesitated for a moment before answering.
"The witch's sister was never a resident of this asylum, Your Highness, but I recall the witch Agathe mentioning her once or twice during her time here. Her presence in these lands was well-known among the local villagers who sought the help of mages and witches. Agathe claims the witch sought solace in the nearby woods. Some believe the witch communed with dark forces there, Lady."
Adam and Belle exchanged a worried glance. The Wolves' Woods held the promise of answers, but they also held the unknown, a place where dark magic and ancient secrets might still linger.
As Belle and Adam left Agathe's cell, they couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that the very walls of the asylum held secrets and memories that were now awakening in their presence.
It was as though the spirits of those who had suffered within these walls were urging them to press on, to uncover the truth that had been hidden for so long.
Their next destination was clear: they needed to learn more about Lenore, Agathe's vengeful sister, and the events that had led her to believe that Prince Adam was responsible for her sister's demise.
Perhaps by understanding Lenore's motivations and the depth of her grief, they could find a way to break the curse that tormented Belle.
Adam and Belle exchanged a glance. The woods held the promise of answers, but they also held the unknown, a place where dark magic and ancient secrets might still linger.
"We'll go to the woods," Adam declared, determination etched on his face. "We must find Lenore and understand her perspective. Only then can we hope to break the curse she has placed on Belle."
D'Arque nodded, acknowledging their resolve. "The path to the woods is treacherous, and it is said to be inhabited by forces beyond our understanding. Be cautious, for you tread on the edge of the unknown."
With that caution in mind, Belle and Adam left the asylum behind, setting their sights on the enigmatic woods that held the secrets of Lenore's grief and vengeance.
They were determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead, for they knew that only by confronting the past could they hope to shape a better future, free from the curses that bound them.
As Belle and Adam ventured deeper into the Wolves' Woods, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the ancient forest, they remained unaware of the figure that observed their departure.
From the edge of the woods, concealed by the shadows, Lenore watched them go with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She had waited for this moment, the chance to see if the Prince and his beloved truly sought to understand the pain she believed they had caused.
Once they had disappeared into the depths of the forest, Lenore moved cautiously, making her way back toward the asylum. She had her reasons for returning to the place that held so many memories of her sister, Agathe, and the suffering she had endured within its walls.
Lenore slipped through a broken window, finding herself within a poorly illuminated corridor. The air bore the weight of lingering despair, a haunting testament to the suffering once endured within these walls.
She followed the spectral guidance of her memories, her every step drawing her nearer to the elusive truth she sought. Faint echoes of distant footsteps grazed her ears, causing her to freeze in place.
Her senses sharpened as Lenore listened intently. The sound drew nearer, and she gradually comprehended that she was not alone; another presence shared this forsaken place, perhaps a custodian of the asylum's secrets or a fellow seeker of its sinister history.
Lenore veiled herself in the shadows, employing her mystical powers to obscure her presence as she observed an approaching figure. It was a man, clad in ragged attire, his eyes filled with a touch of madness. He muttered to himself, his words unintelligible, and moved with an eerie, unpredictable grace.
With held breath, Lenore silently watched the man pass by, her relief palpable as he vanished around a distant corner. She pressed on with an unwavering determination, each step fueling her resolve to uncover the mysteries that lay hidden within. As Lenore pressed deeper into the asylum, her heart pounding in rhythm with each step, she finally came upon a weathered door. Its wooden surface bore the scars of countless years, and a shiver ran down her spine as she grasped the cold, rusted handle.
With a slow, creaking motion, she pushed it open, revealing an impenetrable darkness beyond. She slipped inside, and the door reluctantly closed behind her with an eerie whisper.
The darkness within was thick and suffocating as if it had been carefully cultivated over centuries to hide the secrets of this forsaken place. Lenore strained her eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light, but it was nearly impossible to discern anything in the oppressive blackness. Taking a cautious step forward, her foot landed on a cold, uneven surface, and she realized she was standing on a stone floor.
The air was heavy with the musty scent of old books and the faint echo of distant, haunting whispers.
It sent a shiver down her spine, but she couldn't turn back now; she had come too far. Lenore moved further into the darkness, her heart still pounding.
Suddenly, she heard a faint sound, like the distant shuffle of feet.
A figure slowly materialized in the darkness, and Lenore's eyes widened in disbelief. The figure was haggard, its clothes tattered and dirty, but the face was unmistakable. The past year in this place had not been kind to him; he was a gaunt and pitiful shadow of the man he once was.
As he came into the light, Lenore felt the boiling in her blood ensure as she came to a decision, watching his slender form move with the kind of speed and quickness she was looking for.
The time had come for this man to repay the debt he owed to her for saving his life all those months ago, and she would make use of this man's abilities.
"Hello, Gaston," Lenore whispered, a sinister smile playing at the edge of her lips.
