Blood Countess Part 2: Screams of the Dungeon – The Terrifying Tale of Elizabeth Bathory
Blood Countess
(The Devilish Tale of Elizabeth Báthory)
Part 1: The Silence of the Red Castle
1604, Hungary.
The cold winter winds swept down from the Carpathian Mountains, freezing the villages to the bone. In the snow-covered forests, only the howls of wolves could be heard. And in the middle of those forests stood—Cachtice Castle, a massive stone fortress.
But this castle was not made of stone alone…
Every wall, every corridor was soaked with blood and screams.
Villagers called it “The Red Mansion.”
At night, no one dared to go near it.
“Don’t take me…! Please, don’t take me…”
A girl’s cries could sometimes be heard, and then—silence.
People whispered:
“The Countess Elizabeth is hunting again.”
Countess Elizabeth
A woman whose beauty men would die for, yet her eyes held no compassion—only a coldness like ice.
Her black gowns, high collars, and blood-red lips made her look even more dangerous.
When Elizabeth looked down from her tall balcony, the villagers below trembled under her gaze.
But inside her soul was a secret, not tied to humans… but to the Devil himself.
The First Incident
Klara, the daughter of a poor farmer, was searching for work.
One day, the castle servants came and said:
“The Countess is calling you to work. You will have food and a place to stay.”
Klara’s family was starving. They agreed.
But when Klara stepped inside the castle… what she saw froze her very soul.
Dark hallways lit by flickering candles.
The smell of blood drifting from one of the rooms.
Iron chains beneath the staircase, stained with dried blood.
Klara tried to run… but a maid grabbed her hand.
“Be quiet, or she will hear you.”
“Who… who will hear me?” Klara whispered, trembling.
The maid leaned close and whispered:
“The Countess.”
The Bloody Game
That very night, Countess Elizabeth summoned Klara before her.
“What delicate skin you have…” Elizabeth said, lifting her chin.
“Do you know how fragile youth is? It can disappear in an instant. But I can make it mine forever.”
Tears streamed down Klara’s face.
“Please… let me go…”
Elizabeth smirked and signaled her servant.
A sharp iron needle pierced Klara’s arm. Her scream echoed through the entire castle.
Elizabeth lifted a golden goblet, letting Klara’s blood drip into it… then slowly raised it to her lips.
“Ah… the elixir of youth.”
Then she ordered the doors of the bath chamber to be opened.
Inside stood a huge tub… filled with boiling blood.
Elizabeth stepped into it, closed her eyes, and whispered:
“Now I am young again.”
Fear in the Village
News spread quickly that Klara never returned.
The villagers gathered and murmured:
“Our daughters are vanishing one by one.”
“No one ever comes back.”
“Cries echo from the castle at night.”
An old woman whispered:
“She is not human… she is the bride of the Devil. Countess Elizabeth—the Blood Countess.”
Elizabeth’s Backstory (a glimpse of the twist)
Elizabeth’s madness did not begin suddenly.
As a child, her mother once took her into a dark forest.
There, a witch in a red cloak cut her palm and licked the blood.
The witch told Elizabeth:
“Your fate is bound to blood. If you want beauty and power, you must drink human blood. Only then will your beauty never fade.”
That night, Elizabeth dreamed of a black shadow,
which spoke:
“I am the master of your soul. Worship me… and offer human sacrifices.”
From that day, Elizabeth’s heart turned to stone.
End of Part 1: Darkness Spreads
Now, every week, another girl was taken into the castle… and never returned.
Families began hiding their daughters inside their homes.
But the Countess’s servants roamed the village at night, seizing any girl they could find.
The village priest stood in the church and declared:
“We are living beside the house of the Devil. If we do not stop this, our children and grandchildren will be doomed.”
But who could stand against the Countess?
She had soldiers, wealth… and above all—the Devil’s blessing.
And on the high balcony of the castle, Elizabeth whispered into the cold wind:
“This blood… is the path to my immortality.”
Blood Countess — Part 2: Screams of the Dungeon
Prologue
The winds between castles (kalev) don’t always carry the stench of blood. But in the airy streets of Cachtice, every breath seemed mixed with the last words of the dying. Anyone who dared walk toward the fortress found their steps slowing down on their own—as if the very stones whispered a warning: “Do not return.”
And yet—when grief, hunger, or some blind oath takes root in the heart—humans become weak. That weakness was what Countess Elizabeth turned into her strength.
This part begins on the night when the fortress walls split open with screams so sharp, they stole sleep from the village.
Chapter 1 — Thurzó’s Oath
Palatine György Thurzó’s face carried the lines of age, but his eyes still burned with fire. The rumors he’d heard about the Countess were not just stories—on his table lay letters with names, dates, and lists of missing young women. The evidence was undeniable.
On a rattling winter night, as snowflakes danced in half-sleep, Thurzó told his chief advisor Janos:
“This cannot be left as mere whispers. This is an attack on the soul of our kingdom. Choose men—go with me, and finish this.”
Janos’s face tightened like wet paper. “My lord, the people are terrified. The Countess’s loyalists have always cut down intruders. But if you command it—we’ll go.”
Thurzó gave no smile. The scar across his neck—an old battle wound—caught the firelight.
“Tomorrow night,” he said, “I’ll enter her manor. But not by storming the gates. We’ll go like thieves—but thieves of justice.”
Chapter 2 — Voices in the Dark
Fate had drawn another figure into this game—László, the village hunter, whose eyes never missed life hiding in tall grass. With him came a girl—Erzsébet, a runaway servant from the Countess’s household. Red scars still marred her back, fresh and angry. Her eyes carried the face of death—but deep inside, a flame of vengeance still burned.
“I saw it,” Erzsébet whispered. Her voice trembled like a lullaby, yet her words fell heavy as stone. “A great bathhouse. The Countess’s baths, the walls—they gleamed with blood. We asked what it was, but… no one listened.”
László gripped her wrist gently. “What you saw—we’ll make it truth. Come. After nightfall.”
Erzsébet pulled out a tiny locket, inside it a picture of her friend Klara. Her fingers shook.
“She was my friend,” she said. “If I stay silent, her soul will never forgive me.”
Chapter 3 — Roots and Razors
The Countess’s manor was no ordinary stone castle—it sat atop deep, winding dungeons. The air down there reeked of damp soil, iron, and dripping blood. The walls bore stains, not like ordinary murder marks, but arranged like artwork—lines, circles, and a peculiar symbol: a tangled trident, perhaps some remnant of an ancient ritual.
The path to Elizabeth’s private bath was littered with rat swarms, glass candles, and narrow corridors where echoes of human screams still clung. A grand mirror stood there—framed in white marble, its edges carved with coppery script, faintly red. Sometimes shadows flickered across it—shadows that walked of their own will.
One night, Elizabeth sat before that mirror, clutching an old letter. It was her mother’s, its corners darkened like a well filled with night. She read:
“My child—you are beautiful, but beauty is a burden not meant for all. When the world betrays you, this barrier will stand before you. I chose a path for you. Remember—blood is your mirror. With blood, you shall be reborn.”
Elizabeth’s fingers pressed hard against the metal pen. She smiled, but her smile cut like stone.
“She lied,” she muttered—but the words dissolved into the air.
Chapter 4 — The Plan and the Betrayal
Thurzó gathered his chosen few for the night raid—János, László, some trusted soldiers, and Erzsébet. Their steps were slow, deliberate, heavy with dread.
“We won’t storm the hall,” Thurzó whispered. “We’ll move through the dungeons—through things best left unseen.”
But betrayal floated in the air like smoke. Some within the castle were loyal to the Countess—not only out of fear, but through reverence, bound by some shadowy pact.
When the group reached the first wall of the dungeon, silence wrapped around them. Suddenly, a torch flared behind, and footsteps thundered.
“We’ve been betrayed,” Janos hissed. László noticed the stones had shifted—someone had tipped them off.
Chapter 5 — The Infamous Bathhouse
When they entered, what they saw was hell itself. At the center stood a vast tub—sloshing with red waves of blood. The air burned with its heat.
Elizabeth rose from the bath. Her hair dripped wet, her lips glistened crimson, and every smile she gave smothered someone’s last breath.
“Whose orders do you carry?” she asked softly, her voice metallic and sharp.
Thurzó drew his sword—but with a wave of her hand, something crawled forth from the shadows. Guards with charred faces, not corpses but sculptures of flesh, their eyes disturbingly alive. Some dark force animated them, born between forest and shadow.
László hurled a burning candle at her—but it froze midair. The air itself hardened, as if steel hands clamped down on their hearts.
What followed can hardly be told—blades rang, screams cracked, firelight flickered—and then silence.
When the smoke cleared, Thurzó’s men lay broken—some wounded, some barely conscious. But the Countess was gone.
Erzsébet knelt by the fallen and whispered, “She left… but not empty-handed. She left something behind.” She pointed to a small box. Inside were dry papers and a strange stone carved with the trident symbol.
János opened the paper—it was a torn page from Elizabeth’s diary.
“Every drop belongs to me—but my soul belongs to another. This gift was given to me—and I fed its hunger in return.”
Chapter 6 — The Coffin of Bricks
By dawn, Thurzó had gathered the people. Witnesses, soldiers, servants—all bore testimony. The King’s messengers came, but some truths were too dreadful to speak aloud.
The verdict was made—not a public execution. Her power and influence were too vast. Instead, they chose a punishment eternal in silence: Elizabeth Báthory would be walled alive inside her chamber.
Erzsébet’s testimony, along with the diary fragments, damned her.
Thurzó spoke harshly: “She will be sealed in stone—as monsters are.”
As the wall rose, Elizabeth screamed:
“Fools! You never understood—what was given to me could have been yours!” Her eyes gleamed with hunger, and something more—a curse unending.
As the last stone set in place, the crowd heard a faint humming. Then—laughter. Not one voice, but many, woven together.
And when the final brick sealed her in, some villagers stepped back, torn between relief and terror.
Chapter 7 — The Diary’s End and New Doubts
That night, Thurzó studied the remaining diary pages. He discovered her writings spoke of her mother, a witch, and a vast power lurking through generations.
But one line froze his blood:
“I never wrote his name—but he is here. I gave him flesh, and he gave me a name—Vörös Árny.”
“He is no longer mine,” she wrote, “and I am not his vessel—but his shell.”
The words rang in Thurzó’s skull like a nightmare—the idea that Elizabeth was not merely a woman, but a host for something else.
The last unfinished page read:
“Even when the wall is built, the shadow will remain. It stretches back to my mother’s mother’s mother—and it will never leave.”
The punishment was carried out, but the power that lived in Elizabeth would not end with her.
Epilogue — A New Trail of Blood
The castle returned to peace—at least on the surface. But deep inside, behind the bricks, faint whispers lingered.
Erzsébet handed Thurzó a small red pendant—a strand of hair and dried herbs inside.
“This was Klara’s,” she said. “I couldn’t leave it behind.”
Thurzó took it in his palm. It pulsed faintly, like the heartbeat of an old memory. He thought it was over. But when he burned it in prayer, the night air trembled—with the faintest laughter, drifting unseen.
János finally spoke:
“We walled up a beast… but did we cut its roots?”
And wherever a candle guttered in the dark, a tiny red stain would appear—like a hand pressed from inside the wall.
Next Step
In Part 3, we will go deeper—into the lineage of Elizabeth’s mother, the old web of Vörös Árny, and uncover whether Thurzó himself was given power… or betrayed by forces older than his kingdom.
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