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:
David Straithairn as Baron Dmitri Krezkov
Leslie Manville as Anna Krezkova
Maxwell Jenkins as Ilya Krezkov
Indira Varma as Zuleika Toranescu
And
Bill Skarsgaard as Strahd Von Zarovich
Alexander Siddig as Rahadin
COLD OPEN BEGINS:
Background Music: Krezk | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Orchestral Background Music | Loop
EXT. TOWN SQUARE, KREZK, EARLY MORNING
Scene: The Town Square of Krezk, Just After Dawn
The first rays of sunlight slice through the mist like blades of gold, laying trembling lines across cobblestones slick from the night’s rain. Smoke curls gently from crooked chimneys, and the air hangs heavy with the hush of a town too afraid to believe in joy again.
Windows creak open. A few cautious eyes peer out. A blacksmith pauses mid-hammer swing. A baker’s fire dims as flour-dusted hands press against cold glass.
They see them.
The party steps into the square like revenants borne from myth—mud-streaked, blood-crusted, but upright and breathing. Zuleika, hunched but unbroken, her eyes casting long shadows. The scent of wolf hangs on her like a warning.
And then there’s Ilya, walking slow at first, head bowed—until he lifts his gaze.
Across the square stands Anna, clutching Kala’s small hand.
Anna’s shoulders sag with disbelief, tears flooding before her voice can.
ANNA: “My boy...”
Kala’s gasp is sharp, as if the world rushed back into her lungs all at once.
KALA: “Ilya!”
He breaks into a run.
Boots slam against stone. Guards at the perimeter shift uneasily, hands tightening on spears—but no one moves to stop him.
He crashes into them like the tide. Anna’s arms wrap around his trembling frame as Kala clings to his leg, her voice muffled in the fabric of his coat:
KALA: “You came back! You’re not a monster!”
He’s crying now. Not the howl of guilt or the silence of grief—just raw, open sobs that rock through his ribcage. Anna holds him tighter.
ANNA: (Whispers) “You were lost, but you found the way.”
The town square is silent still—but it’s the silence of awe.
Someone kneels.
Then another bows their head.
And from the chapel nearby, an old priest steps forward and rings the bell once, a single bright chime that ripples outward like prophecy.
Scene: The Krezkovs’ Home, Just After Sunrise
The cottage smells of warm cedar, wet wool, and a faint trace of rosemary from last night’s stew still clinging to the hearth. The party is silent as they cross the threshold—mud-stained cloaks draped over chairs, weapons unbuckled and rested against the wall. A basket of freshly folded laundry sits untouched in the corner.
Anna ushers Kala inside first, her hand never leaving the small of her back. Ilya trails behind, wide-eyed and limping slightly, as if the earth itself might swallow him if he slowed down.
Zuleika lingers near the doorway like a shadow that doesn’t belong to the room’s warmth.
Inside the Living Room
Kala wanders toward the sunbeam cutting across the floorboards, her tiny feet lit like gold as she turns and smiles.
KALA: “It’s so warm here…”
Ilya chokes on breath, eyes watering. He stumbles forward and drops to his knees before her.
ILYA: “Kala—I thought—I thought I lost you.”
She tilts her head.
KALA: “You did.”
The silence breaks like old glass.
Anna crouches beside Ilya, brushing muddy strands from his face.
ANNA: “Ilya… listen to me. There’s something you need to know.”
Her voice carries a weight that makes the whole cottage lean in. Dmitri Krezkov—stoic and spare—places a hand on the doorway and watches without speaking.
Anna’s eyes don’t waver.
ANNA: “It was you, my son. That night. When the moon rose and your curse took hold… Kala tried to reach you. But you were gone.”
Ilya reels, lips trembling, his gaze locked on Kala’s quiet form.
ILYA: “No—no, I would have known. I would have stopped—”
ANNA: “You didn’t. You couldn’t.”
And then, the final stone is laid.
ANNA (CONTD): “The Abbot brought her back.” (Voice nearly breaks) “He used something holy… unnatural… and now he demands a price.”
She lays a hand over her chest.
ANNA: “My heart. Freely given, or he says her soul will slip away again.”
Ilya stares at her, horrified. The cottage is unbearably still. Even the fire refuses to crackle.
ILYA: “You can’t. You won’t. That’s not love—that’s punishment!”
Anna smiles faintly, a mother’s sorrow curling at the edges of her lips.
ANNA: “You are my son. Kala is my daughter. If my heart can hold you both again… what else is it for?”
Scene: The Krezkovs’ Kitchen, Candlelight Flickering Against Morning Fog
The kettle whistles softly on the iron stove, steam curling like ghosts toward the wooden beams. Anna paces beside the table, fingers twitching, her apron still damp from wiping tears. The others linger close—Kala nestled in her blanket, Dmitri polishing a blade he hasn’t touched in years, and Zuleika standing like stone near the doorway.
Ilya speaks, his voice brittle at first.
ILYA: “It wasn’t that I forgot the potion. I remember the bottle. On the windowsill. The rosemary—you always steep it for strength.”
Anna stiffens. Her gaze finds his, and he hesitates—then dives into the memory.
Flashback: The Abbey, Two Weeks Ago
Moonlight poured through fractured glass like silver poison. Ilya sat alone, his palms sweating over the corked vial. Every instinct screamed for control, for safety. That’s when she stepped from the shadows.
Zuleika. Or something wearing her face.
Her coat was the same. Her voice the same low snarl softened by affection. Even the scent—smoke and wild leaves and blood—was hers.
ZULEIKA: “The potion will weaken you. Strahd cannot be beaten with chains on your soul.”
ILYA: “But Mama says, it’s the only way I stay—me.”
She stepped closer, lips brushing his ear.
ZULEIKA: “You’re not meant to stay the same. You’re meant to become what he fears.”
Her touch lingered on his shoulder. He remembered trembling. He remembered—believing.
INT. KREZKOV KITCHEN – NIGHT
The room is dim, lit only by a few flickering lanterns. Shadows flicker across stone walls. A storm hums outside.
ILYA leans forward in his chair, elbows on knees, eyes locked on the floor.
ILYA: (low, shaken) “Later... in the den... I told Zuleika everything. She swore it wasn’t her. Looked terrified—angry even. Angry that I’d believe something so dangerous.”
Across from him, ZULEIKA sits stiffly, her face pale. Her voice cracks through the silence.
ZULEIKA: (soft, pleading) “It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
ANNA gasps behind her hand. DMITRI swears and paces near the fireplace. KALA, curled on the hearth, clutches a mug of warm milk.
KALA: (whispers) “Then who was it?”
ILYA looks past them, out the foggy window. His breath fogs the glass as he leans closer.
ILYA: “I don’t know. But it smelled like her... Knew things... only she would know.”
A beat of silence. His voice lowers, nearly breaking.
ILYA: “Whatever it was… It knew how to break me.”
INT. KREZKOV DEN – LATER THAT NIGHT
The air is heavy, thick with quiet dread. GREEGAN, sharpening a dagger with deliberate care, breaks the hush.
GREEGAN: “Far be it from me to meddle in family curses. But think, Ilya. Who do we know that can wear another’s skin? Even your neighbor—old Mrs. Doka, maybe. Who do we know that wants something from you… Something you’d never give without a reason that rips you apart?”
DMITRI, hunched and grim, growls under his breath.
DMITRI: “The Abbot.”
The word drops like a stone.
FELONIOUS, pacing near a dusty bookshelf, turns with intensity.
FELONIOUS: “In his mind, your curse is a key. A key to beating Strahd. To carving out the heart he needs... To finish his precious little bride.
FLEETWOOD, eyes wide, voice shaking.
FLEETWOOD: “Vasilka’s just a baby... She didn’t ask to be made.
GREEGAN glances up, one brow raised, the ghost of a smirk curling his lip.
GREEGAN: “Got to you, didn’t she, Fleety?”
INT. KREZKOV DEN – CONTINUED
The storm outside intensifies. Raindrops lash against the window panes like claws. The fire spits, casting flickering light across worn faces.
CLARION sits on the edge of a cracked settee. Her shoulders shake. Eyes glisten.
CLARION: (barely holding together) “There’s something wrong with the Abbot… I see it now. The Belleviews—he treats them like… projects. And that thing he made in the East Wing—gods, it wasn’t human. But I felt good in him. I believed in him. How could I be so blind?”
A long pause. FLEETWOOD moves slowly across the room, placing a hand on Clarion’s shoulder.
FLEETWOOD: (quietly) “This place could drive even the best mad.”
Across the room, FELONIOUS stands by the fireplace, the worn TOME OF STRAHD in his hands. The leather cover creaks.
FELONIOUS: (a whisper, then louder) “Like…” (holds up the book) “Even he was good once. Strahd. Before the rot set in. I don’t know if I’m smart enough to understand it all, but— It’s like this place, it is him. He is the land.”
A gust of wind bursts through a cracked window. The candlelight gutters. Silence hangs, thick and heavy.
DMITRI: (grimly) “Then every inch of soil we step on… Every breath we take… Is tainted.”
CLARION: (softly) “And maybe the Abbot isn’t separate from that. Maybe he’s just another soul swallowed whole.”
FLEETWOOD: (to Felonious) “If Strahd is the land… And the Abbot thinks he can unmake him with a bride… What happens when love gets twisted by power?”
GREEGAN: (from the shadows) “It stops being love. And starts being... legacy.”
INT. KREZKOV DEN – NIGHT DEEPENS
The wind groans through the boards like something alive. A lantern sputters, casting long, claw-like shadows across the walls. The tome glows faintly in Felonious’s hands—sickly, amber light crawling up his knuckles.
FELONIOUS: (eyes wild, tapping the desk)”A trap. A cage ringed in mist. A soul trap. Even his. Especially his.”
He jerks his chin toward the book. Pages flutter without wind.
GREEGAN: (low, sharp) “Not just his.”
He glances toward IREENA, who shrinks slightly under his gaze. Her hands tremble around the holy symbol she found.
GREEGAN: “We know the trap. We know the bait. What we don’t know... Is how to make it let go.”
The room stills. Even the fire seems to recoil. IREENA speaks, voice barely above a breath.
IREENA: (almost to herself) “And if we can leave… Without releasing him.”
A silence blooms. Heavy. Thick. As if the very air resists the thought.
CLARION: (brokenly) “Then maybe we don’t leave at all. Maybe this isn’t a quest. Maybe it’s a choice.”
DMITRI: (growling) “Then let’s be the ones who choose. Not pawns. Not brides. Not soil under his boot.”
FELONIOUS: (whispers, haunted) “Not ghosts... trapped forever in his dream.”
EZMERELDA: “I have an idea. Don’t know if it will help. I’ve chased whispers and monsters across continents. But this place… it keeps surfacing in every tale I hear. Argynvostholt. A dragon who refused to kneel. If anything still resists Strahd’s shadow, it’s there. And if I’m wrong? Well, maybe the dead there will tell me so themselves.”
FLEETWOOD: “We’ve met… beings from there in our travels. Consumed by duty beyond life.”
FELONIOUS: “The Tome mentions it as well.” He leafs through the pages again, finds the reference and begins reading.
FELONIOUS: (Voice overlaid and gradually replaced by Strahd): ”I was the warrior, I was good and just. I thundered across the land like the wrath of a just god...”
The Characters are pulled into the scene like Harry Potter staring into the Pensieve.
MONTAGE BEGINS
Background Music: Strahd Battle Theme | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h D&D BBEG Battle Music | Loop
1. WAR COUNCIL — CASTLE RAVENLOFT
A long table. Maps unfurled. Strahd, still mortal, stands tall in crimson armor. Rahadin and Commander Aleksandra Gwilym (Gwendoline Christie, but with natural hair color) flank him.
STRAHD: “The Order will not surrender,” Strahd says. “Then we starve them. Break them. Burn them.”
Rahadin marks the treeline. Aleksandra circles the cliff path.
2. THE KNIGHTS PREPARE — ARGYNVOSTHOLT
Inside the fortress, Sir Vladimir Horngaard (Rory Kinnear) and Sir Godfrey Gwilym (Tom Hiddleston) don armor. Argynvost, in human guise, watches from the balcony.
ARGYNVOST: (Benedict Cumberbatch) “We do not fight for survival, We fight for the soul of this valley.”
A silver banner is raised. The beacon remains unlit.
3. THE FIRST STRIKE — FOREST SKIRMISH
Rahadin clashes with knights in the woods. His blades sing. Blood spatters bark. A knight (Richard Armitage) falls, whispering a prayer to the Morninglord.
4. THE ASSAULT — CASTLE WALLS
Aleksandra leads the charge up the cliff. Arrows rain. Sir Geoffrey, still mortal, holds the gate with a dozen defenders. The walls tremble.
5. THE FALL OF THE DRAGON
Argynvost rises—finally—in silver-scaled glory. His roar shakes the valley. He dives, breath weapon blazing, scattering Strahd’s forces.
But then—black arrows pierce his flank. A ballista fires. He crashes through the northern wing of the castle, stone and bone shattering.
Strahd approaches the fallen dragon.
STRAHD: (Whispers) “You were a symbol… Now you’re a trophy.”
He drives his blade into Argynvost’s heart.
6. AFTERMATH — THE CURSE BEGINS
Vladimir kneels beside the dragon’s beheaded corpse. His scream echoes through the halls. Revenants rise. The beacon remains dark.
VLADIMIR: “Let him suffer, let him rot in the prison he built.”
Scene Continuation — “Ghosts of Silver”
Background Music shifts: Krezk | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Orchestral Background Music | Loop
Fade from black. The storm outside the Krezkov home thrums against the windows like a drumbeat echoing the distant past. Lamplight flickers. The room is quiet except for the crackle of the hearth.
Ezmerelda stands by the fire, her shadow dancing behind her across old brick and worn wood. She doesn’t speak at first—she’s watching the party as they return from the memory, each face painted with spectral unease.
Fleetwood’s gaze is unfocused, drifting as if still looking into the battlefield. Felonious clutches the Tome tighter, brows furrowed like he’s still parsing through verses that no longer belong to him.
Ezmerelda (softly): “You saw it, didn’t you? Not just battle. The moment valor became vengeance. When honor was devoured by fear.”
She walks to the center of the room, laying a torn map of Barovia on the table. One location is circled in red ink—Argynvostholt.
Ezmerelda: (with urgency) “Strahd didn’t just break them. He buried their legacy beneath guilt and flame. And the dragon—Argynvost—he still fights, even in death. What if restoring that light isn’t just justice… but the lever that unravels Strahd’s dominion altogether?”
Felonious opens the Tome again, and though the passage from Strahd’s voice has faded, his own voice trembles with weight.
Felonious: “There are symbols here… forgotten rites. Mentions of a ‘Silver Requiem’—the last sermon spoken before the castle fell. If we find it, it could… consecrate the ground again.”
Fleetwood: (finally looking up) “Then we climb the hill. Even if the dead try to stop us.”
A gust shakes the shutters as if something outside heard him. The hearth dims for a moment—and reignites with a stronger glow.
Ezmerelda picks up her blades and slings her coat over her shoulder.
Ezmerelda (smirking): “Let’s go find a ghost who still believes in redemption.”
FADE TO BLACK:
End credits play over Veteran of the Psychic Wars