Many were outraged that I even called her the Blood Countess, a moniker that has been ascribed to her for centuries. I must agree the arguments vindicating her from the mythic atrocities are strong, and I did not intend to perpetuate falsehoods about her. That said, we must always keep a balanced, if not open perspective, and have a willingness to have one’s opinion changed, because otherwise, we stop listening and are doomed to an echo chamber that endlessly repeats our own thoughts.

Countess Erzsébet Báthory de Ecsed. Her name may sound familiar from Death’s Visage, one of my first stories featuring Máté Nádasdy, which explores the mystery surrounding the theft of a supposed death mask from the notorious “Blood Countess.” While it may seem morose today, making an imprint of a departed person’s face was customary at different times. Many famous examples exist of this practice, although there is no evidence such a mask was ever cast from Erzsébet Báthory’s corpse. While the mask of Death’s Visage is fictional, Erzsébet Báthory is not—and her real story is one you need to hear.

Ludovika’s impact extends beyond its historical role. For many who passed through its halls, it left an indelible mark, shaping their identities in ways that echoed through their lives long after they left the academy.

It’s that curious feeling when a place is both not quite what you imagined and yet more real, more awe-inspiring than you expected.