He was beginning to regret agreeing to embark on this ridiculous quest in the first place. Vilcība pulled his long jacket tighter over himself as the wind nipped, cold and biting. As soon as the strange box had stopped again, he'd rushed out. He hadn't bothered waiting this time or even stopping. He scurried on until he noticed the long curvy driveway ahead.

Modern roads!

He would kiss the tar-coated path if he wasn't afraid of getting infected with something and dying. His mortality was terrifying, and something he hoped to fix very soon.

Vilcība walked on. The road seemed to lead up to a dark, looming castle. Castles like these weren't unfamiliar to him. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised to find himself face to face with a distant relative once he reached the top. It was all that kept him going as he huffed and puffed his way up the winding path.

When he finally reached the massive wooden doors, he needed to pause. Vilcība dropped to his knees, heaving like an old cigarette-addicted human. It was funny how he needed to stop and catch his breath after something as simple as a walk uphill. If his best friend had seen him in this state, Vilcība wouldn't have heard the end of it.

He pushed open the door, thinking about his friend made him more homesick than he realised. It was time to end this stupid farce of a mission and head back.

The inside of the castle was just as aged as the outside. He was greeted by a lavish foyer with a grand spiral staircase in the centre. An impressive, polished glass chandelier hung from the ridiculously high ceiling. The walls were bricked with shadowed niches, each containing a bust of someone different, people he didn't recognise.

"May I help you?"

Vilcība broke away from the statues to face this newcomer walking downstairs. The man that spoke looked young, about as young as him, yet the accent was completely unfamiliar.

"I'm just trying to solve this cryptic, drawn-out..." Vilcība paused for a minute, trying to find more words to express how annoyed he was, "absurd mission and go home."

The stranger nodded and took a step forward and Vilcība instinctively took a step back.

Something was off, out of habit he had ignored the man's pallor, it wasn't any different from the colour of his own skin anyway. Between that and the dark hair, the man may have been a distant cousin if he had the mark on his forehead.

No, that wasn't what he had found odd.

Vilcība was almost certain the man had grey eyes a moment ago. Yet they shone an eerie red now, much to his horror.

"You have chanced upon Bertrand Romania Wolfgang, the first son of count Vladimir Wolfgang and heir to my father's throne." The stranger continued walking towards Vilcība as he spoke, "Feast now, upon the glorious visage as you take your final breath."

Great! A nut job! Just once, he would have liked to end up in a castle overrun with kittens and puppies.

Click!

The insane Bertrand snapped his fingers and the door behind Vilcība slammed shut. This was nothing he couldn't handle. Vilcība's right hand automatically went to his waist to draw his trusted companion, his sword, but there was nothing there.

Shit!

He felt a weight drop in the pit of his stomach as the fear sunk in. Where did his weapon go? Why now of all times?

Vilcība glanced around the room. Taking his eyes off the enemy was a bad idea, but he had no choice! He needed a weapon and the busts were too far away.

He turned back to where Bertrand was standing a moment ago and was instead faced with wisps of white mist. It was seeping from everywhere, every crevice, nook and vent. Vilcība couldn't even see his hand now.

Crap! Crap! Crap!

No weapon and no immortality, and a psychopath that had powers. Just perfect!

Vilcība leapt to the right, nothing was too drastic or unnecessary when he was fighting for his life. He rolled ahead, blindly feeling for something he could use as a weapon. Instead, his hand collided with a ... bannister?

He didn't have a second to waste. Vilcība leapt over the bannister and instinctively rolled back. Amidst the heavy white fog, he caught something large and black tearing away a section of the railing out of the corner of his eye. And there was a screech.

But there was no time to stop.

Vilcība clambered upstairs, only getting to his feet once the stairs had ended. If he could find a window, he could jump out of the castle. He dashed on, the mist was thinner up here but the narrow, curtained hall was darker. He jumped inside the first room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Had he lost the monster?

Amidst the devouring silence, Vilcība could hear his own heart pounding. The silence was good though. Silence meant he was alone.

He took a good look at the room, it was small and smelled funny. Vilcība walked around, observing the questionable lump of meat beside a labelled bottle of blood. The name on the bottle wasn't Bertrand, so this blood and meat may have been food. Vilcība smiled as he picked a broken ladder off the floor and tapped it against a long, dirty mirror.

He had an idea.

"Wolfgang Junior!" he called from the hall, a short while later, once he had set his trap.

Vilcība waited for the monster to take the bait as he stood on the other end of the dim hall. It wasn't long until he heard the soft thudding of footsteps.

"A lamb that accepts its place?" Bertrand was barely visible as he made his way to Vilcība. But the mortal was confident as he sat cross-legged in between the half-drawn curtains.

He waited until Bertrand stepped on the meat with an audible squish. Vilcība didn't speak as the immortal's eyes trailed from the meat and blood under his heavy, black boots all the way to him. He then proceeded to produce the nearly empty flask of labelled blood from his pocket and waved it with a smug grin.

Vilcība watched Bertrand's face twist into an ugly snarl and in a blurry flash, the monster raced towards him. He didn't move. Not when the immortal was rushing towards him, teeth bared; or even when one of the creature's hands had turned into a giant claw, ready to strike him down.

CRASH!

Bertrand shrieked and clutched his hand as Vilcība shattered into a dozen pieces.

Another crash!

And Bertrand was pinned against the wall by two halves of a broken ladder.

"Science jackass!" Vilcība couldn't keep the cheeky grin off his face as he walked backwards away from the monster.

He'd read about creatures like Bertrand, they had no reflection. So with the perfect setting and angle, the idiot didn't even realise he'd attacked a mirror.

Vilcība continued beaming as the creature roared in pain and helplessness from behind him. Time to find a window to jump out of this death trap.