Beginning credits play over: Transylvania 1887
🎬 Opening Credits: Melodic War Productions presents🕯️ 0:00–0:08 | Title Reveal: The Root Awakens A single lantern swings from a crooked post above Krezk’s gate—its flame steady despite the wind. Beneath it, bootprints vanish into churned snow. Lavender bundles hang from doorposts. A raven watches from the wall. The screen exhales: BAROVIA, etched into a moss-covered milestone. The camera pans to a frostbitten signpost: Abbey of Saint Markovia – 1 mile. The wind groans.
🌲 0:09–0:20 | The Village Holds Its Breath Krezk’s cottages huddle close, their steep roofs dusted with snow. Smoke curls from chimneys. Children peer from behind curtains. A scarecrow stands at the edge of the square, its chest pierced with a card: The Innocent. The mist parts. The soil hums.
🚶♂️ 0:21–0:33 | The Travelers Settle The wanderers move through Krezk’s quiet lanes:
Fleetwood (Richard Armitage) sharpens his blade beneath a frost-covered arch, eyes scanning the Abbey’s silhouette.
Clarion (Gwendoline Christie) kneels beside a coughing elder, voice low as she recounts the tale of Saint Markovia.
Silverleaf (Tatiana Maslany) listens, gaze distant, fingers brushing frost from a raven feather.
Felonious (Ben Whishaw) sketches sigils in the snow, each fading like breath.
Greegan (Matt Ryan) rolls his bone dice—they clatter against a stone step, revealing The Healer and The Broken One.
Ireena Kolyana (Tamsin Mackenzie) walks with the spirit mirror uncovered, its surface rippling.
Arabelle (Cailee Spaeny) pauses at a roadside shrine, placing a sprig of lavender. The mist curls upward, forming a spiral that lingers.
🎭 Starring:
Richard Armitage as Fleetwood
Gwendoline Christie as Clarion
Tatiana Maslany as Silverleaf
Ben Whishaw as Felonious
Matt Ryan as Greegan
Tamsin Mackenzie as Ireena Kolyana
Cailee Spaeny as Arabelle
With:
Ben Kingsley as Atanz
David Straithairn as Baron Dmitri Krezkov
Leslie Manville as Anna Krezkova
And Michael Fassbender as The Abbot
🌙 Scene: “Threadbare Miracles”
INT. KREZKOV COTTAGE – NIGHT
Background Music: Krezk | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Orchestral Background Music | Loop
The fire wanes into its quiet hour. Shadows no longer dance—they settle. Fleetwood stands near the door, knuckles pressed white against the frame, eyes locked on Kala through the window. She sits by the graveyard, unmoving.
FLEETWOOD: (quietly) “Aleena rose, remember? Chardastes’ light was enough then. Maybe it can be again.”
CLARION, heart tugged between hope and humility, responds with a tremble she tries to conceal.
CLARION: “That was in the temple. Under the Patriarch’s eye. Even he feared it. Said resurrection wasn’t a gift—it was a risk the Divine sometimes takes on us.”
FLEETWOOD:“So take the risk. If there’s any light in her left, we owe it to Kala to try.”
Felonious, lounging with that irreverent grin, leans in.
FELONIOUS: “Didn’t we just pull Stella Wachter from the depths of madness and let her taste laughter again? This isn’t new. It’s just messier. The Abbot can take his stitched-up sweetheart and—”
SILVERLEAF: “Felonious…”
FELONIOUS: “I’m serious. We’ve seen magic twist minds. We’ve seen truth buried. We dig it up.”
GREEGAN, flipping a knife casually between his fingers, chuckles.
GREEGAN: “Don’t know what we’re walking into... but trouble always did sound like music to me.”
IREENA, sitting apart, wraps her arms around her knees.
IREENA: “We still need the Sun Sword. That blade might be the only thing that can stand against Strahd. If we take this detour…”
She doesn’t finish. No one answers immediately.
Clarion finally speaks—not with certainty, but with the softness of belief choosing to bloom in rocky soil.
CLARION: “If Kala’s resurrection was built on agony, then healing her might cost something too. But perhaps... perhaps healing doesn’t require knowing. Only trying.”
Fleetwood steps outside. The grave glistens faintly in the snow, and Kala turns her hollow eyes toward him.
INT. KALA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Clarion lingers in the doorway a moment longer than comfort permits. The room smells faintly of lavender and firewood. Faded light stains the floor like memory.
Kala doesn’t shift. Her voice is so small, it’s almost borrowed.
KALA: “Have you ever seen a monster before?”
Clarion steps in quietly. She doesn’t answer right away—because yes, she has. But names like “Strahd” and “Stella Wachter” and “the Blight beneath Berez” are too sharp for this space.
She sits gently on the edge of the bed.
CLARION: “I have. Some with teeth. Some without. Some wore smiles that felt colder than ice. Some wore sorrow like a crown.”
Kala nods. Her eyes never blink.
KALA
“Why do monsters like the dark so much?”
Clarion considers. Then she speaks softly, not to soothe—but to trust her with truth.
CLARION
“Because the dark doesn’t ask questions. It lets them hide the parts that feel wrong… even from themselves.”
Kala’s chin presses into her knees.
🌫 Scene: “The Road She Couldn’t Take”
INT. KALA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Clarion folds her hands in her lap. The room feels smaller now. Kala’s voice wraps around them like fog.
KALA: I don’t think I’m supposed to be here. Not really.”
CLARION: “You are loved. That’s not nothing.”
Kala looks toward the wilted flower on the sill.
KALA: “Loved and watched. Like they’re waiting to see if I... crack.”
CLARION: “What do you remember?”
Kala pulls the quilt tighter around her knees. Her voice drops to a threadbare whisper.
KALA: “Teeth. Claws. Screaming. Me screaming.” (beat) “Then mist. It was everywhere. I couldn’t breathe right. And there were screams... far away. Not mine.”
She hesitates, eyes filling with memory.
KALA: “I kept trying to leave—to find light, or a door, or anything. But the mist wouldn’t let me. Every time I moved, it twisted me back. Like... it was keeping me. Like I wasn’t done being dead.”
Clarion’s breath is slow now. Her eyes never leave Kala’s.
CLARION: “And then?”
KALA: “I woke up. Here. No pain. Just quiet. Too quiet. They hugged me. Kissed me. But their hands shook. And at night... I still hear it. The monster. The screams. The mist pressing in.”
She closes her eyes, then opens them.
KALA: “If I see the monster again—if I face it—maybe the mist will let go.”
Clarion doesn’t answer right away. She gently reaches for the stuffed bear, brushing dust from its button eye before handing it back to Kala.
CLARION: “Maybe it’s not just the monster you have to face. Maybe it’s the reason you didn’t cross.”
🎬 Scene Title: “The Descent”
INT. COTTAGE – NIGHT
Background Music shifts: Encounter in Barovia | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h TTRPG Combat Music | Loop
The camera creeps through the darkened cottage, low and intimate. Flickering candlelight plays across the slumbering forms of the party. A soft creak—then another.
CUT TO:
KALA’S ROOM DOOR
It opens with hesitant fingers. Kala steps out—hair tousled, face pale with determination.
SFX: Floorboards creak softly underfoot. A whisper of cold wind snakes through a cracked window.
She glances at the sleeping figures—then freezes as a shadow detaches from the wall.
GREEGAN (O.S.): (whispered) “Not now. Not loud.”
MEDIUM SHOT: Greegan, crouched in shadow, gestures toward the door. Clarion joins—her armor conspicuously absent, clothed in a simple tunic. Her expression is sharp, focused.
EXT. COTTAGE – NIGHT
They step into a snow-covered courtyard. Footsteps indent the pristine surface.
GREEGAN: (low, grim) “Perfect night to leave a trail.”
WIDE SHOT: The garden glows under a moon drenched in mist. An ominous silhouette stands against the stone wall—the bulkhead door.
CLOSE-UP: Greegan kneels by the hinges. They’re warped. The door bulges outward. He runs his thumb along a deep scar in the wood.
GREEGAN: “This wasn’t made to open.”
CLARION: But something needed out.
SFX: The door groans open—low and resonant, echoing into the night like a beast waking from slumber.
REVERSE ANGLE: Below, slick stone steps spiral into darkness.
Kala hesitates. Clarion takes her hand.
KALA: (quietly) “You’re sure about this?”
CLARION: “No. But you’re not alone.”
SCORE: A subtle rise—strings trembling like breath in the cold.
WIDE SHOT: The trio begins their descent. The door stays ajar behind them—silent, watchful.
FADE TO BLACK.
🎬 Scene Title: “The Stall” – Season 1, Episode 5
INT. KREZKOV COTTAGE – NIGHT
A low groan reverberates through the cottage—ancient wood warping under strain. The bulkhead door wails open. Upstairs, DMITRI KREZKOV jolts awake.
DMITRI: (gruff, alert) “Anna—did you hear that?”
ANNA: (half-dressed, already moving) “It came from outside. By the garden.”
INT. KALA’S ROOM
They find the door ajar. Bed empty. The window frosted with night.
DMITRI: “She’s gone.”
INT. COMMON ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
The Krezkovs descend into confusion. Silverleaf glances up from her vigil. Felonious stiffens like a guilty candle. Ireena strides in, her braid loose, tension visible. Fleetwood sits upright, buckling his gauntlet slowly.
ANNA: “Where is Kala?”
SILVERLEAF: “She left—briefly.”
DMITRI: “Into the cellar? You let her go alone?”
Felonious steps forward, conjuring a nervous smile.
FELONIOUS: “Not alone! No. She’s... accompanied. A trio, in fact. Clarion, Greegan, and Kala. A very quiet mission. Very sensible. Minimal peril. Highly supervised!”
DMITRI: “Why wasn’t I told?”
FELONIOUS: “Well, you were... resting. And we all felt the cellar could use a little inspection. Clarion insisted—it was a Paladin’s gut feeling. You know how those are.”
ANNA: “She’s been shaken since last night. You shouldn’t have let her wander.”
IREENA: (to Felonious) “What’s really down there?”
FELONIOUS: “Honestly? No clue. That’s part of the... adventuring mystique. We didn’t want to alarm you before we knew for sure. Besides—look! Kala’s with trusted companions. One paladin, one rogue, zero chances of spectral possession.”
SILVERLEAF: (to Felonious, dry) “You’re overselling it.”
Felonious bites his lip, realizing he’s spiraling into exaggeration.
FLEETWOOD: (stepping between Dmitri and the door) “Give them five minutes. If they don’t come up, we go down.”
A beat of uncertain silence. Dmitri clenches his jaw, clearly unwilling to wait—yet unsure.
ANNA: “If anything happens to her—”
FELONIOUS: “We’ll follow the moment we hear a scream. Or a dramatic monologue. Or, you know, the usual supernatural dread.”
Ireena stares him down, unimpressed.
Outside, the wind kicks up—a low moan against the bulkhead. Inside, the clock ticks loudly. No one speaks. Below, the descent continues.
🎬 Scene: “The Cellar Memory” – Season 1, Episode 5
INT. KREZKOV BASEMENT – NIGHT
Light spills down the damp stone steps as Clarion invokes a radiant glow—soft, golden, like temple-light cradling shadow. The air is cool, thick with the scent of stone and root and something older.*
Camera pans across wooden racks, now skeletal and empty. The wine is gone, but memory is not.
GREEGAN: (grimly) “There was some kind of animal down here. Look at the size of these.”
He crouches low, brushing his fingers along deep gouges carved into the earthen floor—thick claw marks trailing across stone and dust. The path ends at a stretch of bare wall: the stone slightly discolored, the shelves disturbed around it.
KALA, pressed between them, peers down with trembling breath.
CLARION: (softly, scanning the marks) “Three feet wide. That’s no wolf. Not natural.”
A low ambient hum swells in the background score—tense, pulsing. Clarion steps closer, light illuminating the bare patch like a revelation.
CLOSE-UP: A groove in the stone, faint but deliberate. Something punched through from inside.
GREEGAN: (quiet) “Something came through. Not in... out.”
The camera lingers on Kala’s face—wide eyes staring at the wall like it might blink.
KALA: “That’s where it came from. That night.”
Clarion places a hand gently on her shoulder. The light flickers for a moment.
FADE TO: The party above—still stalling. Still unaware of what waits in the quiet.
🎬 Scene: “Shackles and Salt” – Season 1, Episode 5 (continued)
INT. SECRET CHAMBER – NIGHT
The broken stone gives way with a guttural scrape, revealing a narrow passage choked by stale, unmoving air. The light dims as Greegan ducks inside, Clarion and Kala following silently.
The room is small, roughly circular, and lined with age-blackened stone. The scent of mildew and something acrid lingers in the air—like scorched herbs and ancient blood.
CLOSE-UP: Three heavy silver shackles, bolted to the walls. Two are ringed with half-moons of salt, now disturbed, smudged by claw marks and erratic streaks of dust. A ritual broken, a seal disrupted.
CLARION: (quiet, reverent) “This was containment. Not punishment.”
The eastern wall tells the loudest story: one shackle hangs cracked, sundered by brute force; the other has been ripped clean away, leaving twisted bolts and gouged stone. Deep claw marks run across the walls like wild script.
GREEGAN: (checking the silver damage) “These restraints were meant for something fierce. Silver. Salt. This was built by someone who understood monsters.”
KALA, nearly whispering now, stares at the empty third shackle.
KALA: “That one was never used.”
Silence settles like ash. Clarion steps toward the center and kneels, brushing a finger across the broken salt ring.
CLARION: “It broke out.”
🎭 Scene: “The Basement Truth” – Season 1, Episode 5 (continued)
GREEGAN: (slapping his forehead) “Oh, very cute.” (gesturing to the broken shackles) “Didn’t Dmitri say it was a werewolf that did this? No question how mean it was then, or how it got loose. Only question I got is, why were they keeping it in the basement to begin with? It’s not like you can keep one for a pet.”
KALA, flinching at the mention, looks toward Clarion instinctively. The room seems to tighten around them—the air heavier with implication.
CLARION: (frowning deeply) “They weren’t trying to keep the beast. They were trying to hold on to what was left of someone.“
Clarion steps toward the third, untouched shackle.
CLARION: (softly) “There’s grief here. Regret. This wasn’t just a monster locked away... This was someone they loved. Someone who turned.”
GREEGAN: (scoffing, but with less conviction) “A werewolf? Love ain’t much of a leash when full moons come around.”
CLARION: “Unless they thought they could cure it. Redeem it. Traladaran mercy meets Thyatian conviction—binding the beast until the soul is ready to return.”
The damaged shackles. The salt. The silence. It wasn’t just a cage—it was a crucible.
🎬 Scene: “The Broken Line” – Season 1, Episode 6
INT. KREZKOV MANOR – NIGHT
The cellar door creaks open. GREEGAN, CLARION, and KALA emerge, shadowed by candlelight and silence. Greegan’s bootfalls are heavy on the wood. He crosses the floor toward the hearth, where DMITRI and ANNA sit, faces etched with sleepless worry.
With a gesture as swift as accusation, Greegan drops the broken silver shackle onto the floor between them. It hits with a cruel clang that silences the room.
GREEGAN: (cold) “You kept a monster chained in your basement. What was going on?”
A long, jagged pause. Dmitri doesn’t flinch. His eyes meet Greegan’s, weathered and dark.
DMITRI: (low, resigned) “You won’t like the answer.”
He stands. Clarion shifts his weight as Kala pulls closer to his side, her eyes never leaving the broken silver loop.
DMITRI: “Eighty years ago, my grandfather survived a werewolf’s bite. He should’ve died. He didn’t. The curse stayed—and it stayed in our blood.”
Anna takes Dmitri’s hand. Her voice is a whisper, trembling like the flame above them.
ANNA: “It only appears after a child’s thirteenth birthday. The first full moon after… they change.”
Clarion bows his head slightly, not in judgment—but mourning. Greegan exhales through his nose and folds his arms, listening.
DMITRI: “We bound ourselves in silver. Took wolfsbane, prayed, begged. It worked. For a time.”
He steps toward the shackle. Kneels. Touches it with reverence and grief.
DMITRI: “I was born with the curse. So was Ilya. We hoped it might skip him. It didn’t.”
KALA: (voice breaking, barely audible) “That night… he changed.”
Anna can’t hold her silence anymore.
ANNA: “The potion failed. He broke free. Killed—”
She can’t finish. Dmitri does.
DMITRI: “He killed Kala. Our daughter.”
A silence falls that feels like centuries. A hush as heavy as stone.
CLARION: (gently) “Where is he now?”
DMITRI: (in anguish) “We searched. We begged. The woods took him. Ilya is gone.”
Greegan stares down at the shackle, then at Kala—whole but haunted. Something clicks in his eyes.
GREEGAN: (stern, quiet) “Then we find him. Before the next moon finds us.”
🎬 Scene: “Not Just the Beast” – Season 1, Episode 6 (continued)
INT. KREZKOV COTTAGE – NIGHT
The broken silver shackle still lies on the floor between Greegan’s boots. The air hangs heavy.
FELONIOUS: (speaking gently) “When you change... is there somewhere it pulls you? Some place the wolf wants to go?”
DMITRI: (stiffening) “Somewhere wild. Somewhere quiet. But not safe. Always the woods. Always hunger.”
FELONIOUS: “And are there others here? Werewolves who might help him, guide him?”
DMITRI: “Others, yes. But not allies.” (beat) “They tore into Ezmerelda when she tried to intervene—slashed her deep and left her bleeding in our woods. We carried her home. Ilya... Ilya adored her.”
CLARION: “Could she find him?”
DMITRI: “If he’s still himself—if the boy’s still in there—he’d trust her.”
GREEGAN: (stepping forward, jaw tight) “If Ilya’s like you, he turns back after the moon’s done, yeah? Then why hasn’t he come home?”
A long pause.
GREEGAN (cont’d): “Maybe the key isn’t finding the beast. Maybe it’s finding the boy.”
The room stills. Dmitri slowly lifts his gaze—uncertain, but listening.
GREEGAN: “Can I see Ilya’s room?”
Dmitri nods once. Not with hope. But with surrender.
🎬 Scene: “Ilya’s Room” – Season 1, Episode 6
INT. ILYA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Soft, pallid moonlight pools across the wooden floor like spilled milk. The room is quiet—too quiet for the weight it carries.
The camera pans slowly over the modest furnishings. A bed, neatly made, the hand-stitched quilt worn and beloved, each patch a fragment of comfort in a haunted house.
WIDE SHOT:
A wooden shelf above the desk glows faintly. It cradles the relics of a boy who wanted to remember. A feather, curled like a question. A rock crystal, glinting like stolen frost. And a wolf’s tooth, ominously clean, placed with reverence or fear.
CLOSE-UP:
The weapon rack. Bare bones of preparedness. A short sword—polished but unused. A hunting bow, strung and ready. Arrows waiting like thoughts unspoken.
The lace curtains shift as a wind pushes gently through the round window, spilling silver light across a hand-drawn map. The paper trembles slightly. It depicts not landmarks, but paths—into the forest, through the hills, marked with circles and notations only Ilya would know.
FLEETWOOD: (stepping in, voice hushed)
“He mapped out places he could run to.”
CLARION, trailing her fingers across the wolf’s tooth, closes her eyes briefly.
CLARION: “Places to escape. Or hide. Or be something else.”
GREEGAN: (flatly, staring at the quilt) “Not a kid who expected to come back.”
FELONIOUS: (leaning by the shelf, scanning the map) “He thought ahead. That means hope. That means Ilya is still in there somewhere.”
The camera lingers on the tooth one last time—casting a long, broken shadow on the desk below.
FADE OUT.
INT. ILYA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Fleetwood leans over the desk, fingers tracing the borders of Ilya’s map with the reverence of someone reading a confession. The lantern beside him flickers gently, casting trembling shadows across the parchment.
FLEETWOOD: (quietly, to himself) “Odd… Khazan’s Tower isn’t here. He marked the hills, the ridge—but not that place.”
He squints at the edges, noting the jagged scratch of a trail that ends abruptly, almost deliberately forgotten.
GREEGAN: (from behind, voice low) “Lift it.”
Fleetwood gives him a look but does as asked—peeling the map from the wall. There’s a brittle sound, like dead leaves folding. Behind the parchment, tucked in the wood grain and nearly missed, is a scrap of paper. Old. Charred slightly at the edges.
He passes it to Greegan, who unfolds it with surprising gentleness.
CLOSE-UP:
A charcoal sketch. Rough but tender. A woman with piercing eyes and a jaw set for war. Her hair is braided in the old Duskfang style, and though the medium is simple, her presence hums from the page. (Jessica Barden)
GREEGAN: (frowning, almost reverent) “Zuleika… Toranescu.”
CLARION takes the sketch in hand next. Her fingers linger along the outline of Zuleika’s face, as though trying to recall the weight of a memory she never owned.
ANNA: “Dmitri’s sister. She vanished years ago… No one talks about it.”
FELONIOUS: (reading Fleetwood’s map again) “So either Ilya’s met her… or knows something the rest of us don’t.”
A beat of silence. The air feels heavier now, as if the room is listening.
GREEGAN: (speaking to the shadows) “What else were you keeping, Ilya?”
The camera pulls back slowly, the map dangling loosely, the sketch of Zuleika pinned against Greegan’s chest like a memory clinging to bone.
FADE TO BLACK.
🎬 Scene: “Ghosts in the Abbey” – Season 1, Episode 6 (continued)
INT. KREZKOV COTTAGE – COMMON ROOM – NIGHT
The fire crackles low. Shadows stretch long across floor and face. Dmitri stands near the hearth, his expression cut from stone.
GREEGAN: (arms crossed, brow furrowed) “One thing I’m still chewing on. If Zuleika left before Ilya was born... how’d he draw her so well?”
DMITRI: (quiet, eyes narrowing) “I don’t know. He never saw her. Not once. Not even a painting.”
CLARION: (softly) “Then someone showed him.”
FELONIOUS: (leaping over that beat. Perhaps a bit too eager.) “Speaking of mystery women—Ezmerelda. Any clue where she’s haunting these days?”
Dmitri nods, lips pressed into a worried line.
DMITRI: “She’s taken an interest in the Abbey. Says it reeks of unrest. Spirits that won’t sleep. Promises twisted.”
IREENA: (deadpan) “Sounds like she’s in the right place.”
SILVERLEAF: (peering out the frosted window) “If we go after her, we’ll need to move fast. The veil over that hill is getting thinner by the night.”
FELONIOUS: (grinning) “Well. I always say—if you’re going to chase ghosts, bring a torch and bad decisions.”
GREEGAN: (half to himself) “Or maybe just someone the ghosts don’t hate.”
He glances at Kala, then at the sketch tucked under his coat.
The fire pops once, like it’s trying to speak.
FADE TO BLACK
End Credits play over: Abbey of Saint Markovia | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Choral Music | Loop