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Chapter One: The Velvet Shadow
No sooner had the moon cast its pale glow upon the labyrinthine streets of Port Valence than the Mystery Machine faltered on the uneven cobblestones, as though it too could sense the oppressive grandeur of their destination. The castle, dark as a broken promise, loomed ahead, its gothic spires piercing the sky like the jagged teeth of some malevolent beast.
Shaggy was the first to speak, his voice trembling despite his attempts to affect levity.
"Like, Scoob, old buddy... this is the part where we usually turn around, right?"
Scooby-Doo whimpered in agreement, his tail tucked firmly between his legs.
"Don’t be ridiculous," Daphne chastised, tossing her auburn hair over one shoulder. She wore a purple velvet cloak this evening, chosen for its dramatic flair rather than practicality. "This is the perfect place to uncover the mystery of those disappearances."
Fred, resplendent as ever in his perfectly pressed white shirt and ascot, nodded firmly. "Daphne’s right. Strange or not, people need our help. Besides, castles like this always have secret passages, and you know how much I love finding those."
Velma adjusted her glasses and pulled her cardigan closer. "Statistically speaking, there's a higher likelihood of this being a hoax than actual danger. But we should still exercise caution. Gothic architecture tends to attract eccentrics, if not worse."
As if summoned by her words, a figure emerged from the mist at the castle’s gates. He was tall and lean, with the kind of cheekbones that could cut glass and eyes that smoldered like dying embers. His raven hair fell in careless waves, perpetually tousled as though he had just stepped away from composing some tragic symphony. He wore a long black coat, its edges frayed as if by centuries of wear, and his boots clicked ominously on the stones as he approached.
"Welcome," he intoned, his voice a mellifluous blend of honey and smoke. "I am Rekyr Corvyn, keeper of this estate. You’ve come to investigate the whispers, I presume?"
Fred stepped forward, offering his hand, though his expression betrayed a flicker of suspicion. "That’s right. I’m Fred Jones, and this is my team—Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby-Doo."
Rekyr's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his shadowed eyes. "How noble of you to throw yourselves into the jaws of mystery. I commend such courage... and such folly."
Before anyone could reply, another figure appeared at Rekyr's side. She moved with the grace of a swan gliding on water, her emerald gown shimmering faintly even in the dim moonlight. Her black hair cascaded in perfect waves down her back, and her hazel eyes were framed by thick lashes that seemed to hold the secrets of a thousand lifetimes.
"This is Samantha," Rekyr said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "She is... my ward."
Samantha offered a demure smile, though it lingered on Fred a moment longer than was strictly polite. "It’s a pleasure to meet you all," she said, her voice rich and velvety, as though it had been spun from the same fabric as her dress.
"Likewise," Daphne said stiffly, her hand tightening on Fred’s arm.
Samantha tilted her head, her gaze flickering briefly to Daphne before settling on Velma. "You must be the scholar of the group," she said. "I’ve read many tales of intrepid minds like yours solving the unsolvable. I wonder, though... do you ever tire of having the answers?"
Velma blinked, caught off guard. "I... don’t think so," she said, adjusting her glasses nervously.
"Interesting," Samantha murmured, though her tone suggested she had expected nothing less.
"Well, we should get started," Fred said, stepping into the awkward silence. "If we could just have a look around the castle—"
"You’ll find little here but shadows," Rekyr interrupted, his smile returning with a hint of irony. "Still, if it’s shadows you seek, I won’t deny you entry. But tread carefully. This place has a way of unearthing things best left buried."
As they crossed the threshold, Daphne whispered to Velma, "Did you notice how she looked at Fred? Like she already knew him or something."
Velma frowned. "You’re imagining things. Though... something about this place does feel... off."
The great hall greeted them with an opulence that bordered on grotesque: chandeliers dripped with wax like tears, crimson drapes hung heavy with dust, and a grand piano stood forlorn in the corner, its lid slightly ajar as if mourning its own silence.
Rekyr led them deeper into the castle, his voice carrying over the echoing halls. "If you’re determined to uncover the truth, you’ll want to start in the west wing. That’s where most of the... peculiarities have occurred."
Samantha lingered behind, her gaze drifting to Shaggy and Scooby. "You seem uneasy," she said, her voice lilting.
"Uneasy?" Shaggy laughed nervously. "Like, who, me? Nah, I’m totally... cool."
"Good," Samantha said, her smile almost predatory. "This house tends to feed on fear."
Scooby whimpered, pressing closer to Shaggy.
As they ascended the winding staircase, Samantha’s gaze fell on Velma's skirt—a rich wine-red that seemed almost out of place among the muted tones of her companions.
"Such a striking choice of color," Samantha remarked. "It suits you."
Daphne turned, her jaw tightening as she caught Samantha’s gaze lingering on Fred once more. Whatever shadows lurked in this castle, they were nothing compared to the storm brewing within its new inhabitants.
To be continued