MMCM - Chapter 1: By the Borgo Pass

Описание: MMCM - Chapter 1: By the Borgo Pass

Jonathan Harker travels deeper into Transylvania on Count Dracula’s business, expecting a routine legal visit and little more. The farther he goes, the more the world changes around him. Local people cross themselves, whisper warnings, and press a crucifix on him as if paper contracts and English manners can do nothing against the place he is entering. The road grows colder, stranger, and more hostile, and Jonathan begins to feel that every mile is carrying him out of ordinary life.

His final journey to the castle feels less like travel and more like passage into a bad dream. A mysterious coachman drives him through mountain darkness, blue flames flicker in the wilderness, and wolves gather with unnatural obedience. By the time Jonathan reaches the Count’s remote castle, fear has already taken hold. He has not met Dracula yet, but the land itself has announced that this is no simple business trip. Something ancient is waiting at the end of the road.

Cold wheels over frozen stone
Late light dying on the road
Bistritz behind me
The pass ahead
A paper seal inside my coat
A borrowed room still in my head
They crossed themselves
They would not speak
Then pressed a crucifix on me

I wrote the names of inns and towns
I marked the hills, the road, the time
I kept my clerk’s exact account
And trusted ink more than old signs
The women stared into my face
Then turned away and blessed the air
One old man took my shaking hand
And placed his warning with the cross there

They spoke of wolves
They spoke of night
They spoke a title under breath
I smiled and said I knew my work
And rode on toward a foreign guest

By the Borgo Pass
With the cross against my skin
Every mile strips reason bare
Every prayer turns in the wind

By the Borgo Pass
Past the wolves and cobalt flame
I came to sign a ledger clean
I ride toward an older name

The coach was late
The snow came hard
The mountains stood with buried mouths
The driver lashed the horses on
No village lamp was left about
His face stayed hid beneath the brim
His hand was iron on the rein
He never turned to answer me
He drove straight through the sleet and stain

Then in the waste a blue fire rose
From broken earth and winter grass
He checked the team, bent down, and marked
Some secret point beside the pass

By the Borgo Pass
With the cross against my skin
Every mile strips reason bare
Every prayer turns in the wind

By the Borgo Pass
Past the wolves and cobalt flame
I came to sign a ledger clean
I ride toward an older name

The wolves drew near in silent rings
Grey bodies pacing through the white
The horses screamed and pulled the traces
Foam and terror in the night
He stood up tall upon the box
And raised one hand into the gale
The pack fell back without a cry
Their hunger broke
Their courage failed

What host commands the jaws of wolves
What nobleman can halt that tide
What man walks out where no man stands
And keeps the living terror tied
My pen feels small
My trade feels thin
My London habits turn to dust
I hold the cross with both my hands
I write because I fear I must

The road climbed higher into stone
The peaks cut black against the last red
A ruined chapel watched us pass
With all its saints worn down and headless
He found the turning without sight
No lantern burned to guide the way
The castle waited in the height
A mouth of rock, a shape of grey

Then all at once the coach stood still
The gate gave out a hollow groan
A tall man reached with courtly grace
And welcomed me from his ancient home

By the Borgo Pass
With the cross against my skin
Every mile strips reason bare
Every prayer turns in the wind
By the Borgo Pass
Past the wolves and cobalt flame
I came to sign a ledger clean
I ride toward an older name

I came for deeds and lawful terms
For purchase, title, house, and land
But something old has called me here
And takes my case in its own hands
Bistritz is gone
The pass is crossed
The night has sealed the road behind
I step inside with frozen breath
And leave the measured world behind