Carmilla

The moonlight spills like silver across ancient walls, and somewhere in the velvet darkness, a whisper stirs—a name, half-sighed, half-forgotten. Carmilla. A name as soft as a caress, as chilling as a shadow at the edge of the candle's glow. She does not knock at your door; she drifts through it like a dream. She is beauty wrapped in mystery, desire woven with dread. This is not a story of fa...