Muahahaha! I mean... I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger. :)

This chapter is a little shorter, in the interest of not leaving everybody totally on the hook. Thank you again for the awesome reviews. It really does keep me inspired. Enjoy!

Polina had spent the last forty years of her life searching for someone who shared her gift.

She had peddled fortunes on the street for pennies. Worked her talent in musty back rooms that smelled of cured meat and undone laundry. Polina had left her home country to search the world. For someone, anyone, who was like her.

And now, as she lay dying in a pool of blood and broken glass - her search was over.

A young girl - fourteen or fifteen, at best - lay in the blood next to her. Tossed aside in the car crash like so much shrapnel - so much trash. She was unconscious on her side. A gash on her forehead left a thin line of blood dripping from her face into the puddle that was Polina's own blood.

It was then, when the girl's lifeblood met her own - that she felt it. Their minds were shared - she saw the girl's emotions and thoughts as if they were her own. This girl was like her. This poor creature had likely been dormant until now - but people are made in the moments of their lives defined by sorrow and loss.

Polina's power would die as this young woman's awoke. The horrible irony was not lost on her. She managed to laugh quietly through the pain, her throat both at once caught full with blood, and painfully dry. "Child," Polina urged. "Child, wake up."

Polina demanded it of the poor young thing. Her gift allowed her to do such things - to push emotions and actions onto others.

The young girl blinked her eyes, struggled to focus them. She groaned in pain. Both of them had been thrown from their respective vehicles when they crashed. Polina was sure the two crumpled bodies she saw lying on the pavement - clearly dead - were the girl's parents.

Polina herself knew her life was ending. She could not feel herself below the waist - and thought it best not to look. There was no need to see that she was a mangled body, waiting for the crows. But the girl - battered and bloodied, cut by broken glass, would live.

"Come here," Polina urged. The young girl managed to sit up, and looking around her, her eyes went wide at the carnage. "Do you know what you see?"

"N… No-" the girl said with a whimper. "I don't know how I got here… Where am I?" The girl looked down at her hands, covered in blood - Polina's blood. She squinted, and looked at them confused. "These are not my hands…"

It had begun already, she saw. The girl was inside Polina's mind - seeing out. Expecting to see the hands of an old woman, worn and thin. "You are not I," Polina urged. "What is your name?"

The girl paused for a long time, before she looked over at her - her amber eyes were bright. There was a keen intelligence there that would serve her well. "Isabel. It's… Isabel. I think."

"Keep that with you - no matter what others tell you. No matter how much you see, or hear… No matter what your mind might know. Remember that much. Promise me, child. Never forget who you are. They will-" Polina coughed, and could taste blood on her lips. "The minds of others will crowd yours. They will muddy the lines between you. But you will have your name."

Isabel's forehead creased as she struggled to understand her words. But perhaps it was her connection to the aged woman that gave her the wisdom to see it. Her face smoothed, and she reached out for Polina's hand.

The old woman smiled, and squeezed her hand in return. She would be happy not to die alone. Oh, how she wished she could spend days in her kitchen, caring for the rosebud of a woman she saw in front of her. Cooking her paska and teaching her how to control her gift. To become what she was meant to be.

But that was not in the cards for her. No. She would die here, and leave this poor child to wander the earth alone as she had as a child. But Polina would die happy - content with her part in this world.

No one should die alone.

"Will you not just stand there, and assist me?!"

Lyon stood, shocked at what he saw. Few things in this world caused the ancient priest to pull up short, and leave him wavering and unsure.

The room reeked of blood. Even to a mortal, the smell would be pungent. To him, it was overwhelming. He felt the instinctual hunger rise - and to a fledgling, it would drive them mad. He had long since learned to master such impulses.

Isabel was lying in Dracula's lap - her head in the crook of his arm. She was covered in blood. As was he. It looked as though someone had slit her throat - no - punctured it, perhaps.

The woman's eyes were open, glassy and unseeing. "What have you done?" Lyon asked, his heart heavy.

"She yet lives, but will not for much longer, if you simply stand there like a fool!" Vlad howled - his fangs extended in his rage.

It was then, that Lyon saw the blood red tears that ran down his Master's face to land in small droplets on the cheek of the woman in his arms.

"You don't remember anything? Really, nothing at all?"

Isabel laughed and raised the beer to her lips. Eighteen or not, it didn't matter. Beer was easy to find.

They had all driven out into the woods in their beater cars on a warm Friday night in May. Each one of them was in some trashy vehicle that had been given to them by somebody's great aunt or grandmother who shouldn't be driving anymore.

Goth kids, the lot of them. Isabel always felt 'too old for this shit,' and always felt like she was the adult caught in a bad sitcom flashback to high school years. But she figured that was likely due to all the memories she had bumbling around in her head that weren't hers.

"I remember walking into the hospital and telling them my first name. Nothing before that. Not anything at all," she said with a shrug. The police had record of who her 'real parents were' - but they had both died in the crash. Isabel had never bothered hunting down the remainder of any sort of blood relatives. They hadn't come to find her - so she figured she wasn't a wanted burden on their lives.

And her foster mother was about as laid back as you could get. She was alright with how her life was right now.

"Fucked up, man," said one of her friends from the back of his great uncle's old 1991 Toyota Corolla.

"I think it's cool," James said from next to her. They were sitting on the back of his car. He was leaning back on his elbows and kicking his leg idly. They were 'together.' Well, as together as two people could be without any physical contact. "It's like a superhero origin story."

"I'm the world's shittiest superhero then," Isabel said through a snicker. She donned her best 'fake announcer voice' and planted both fists on her hips in her best Captain America pose. "Fear me, I am Feelings Girl! I can sense bad moods from a mile away, and if I touch your spoon, I can tell you what you had for dinner last night!"

The pack of them laughed.

It was the last time they had together before James had kissed her - and he never woke up again.

Golden claw met sword in a sharp clash of metal on metal. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Lyon and Vlad had reason to come to blows.

"You are mad!" Lyon exclaimed, shoving the other vampire backwards. Lyon had the height advantage - but Vlad was stronger. "She lies a breath away from death, and you seek to stain your hands with the blood of a thousand more? You would tear down our world to send her to the grave ferried by the damned!"

"So be it!" Vlad snarled, his eyes red from lid to lid, rage pouring from him in such a way it was a palpable thickness to the air around them.

Few times, Lyon had seen his Lord in such a state. Few times, had he seen him react in such a way. Never, had he seen him plot to do such a thing as he did now. Never had Vlad threatened such things as he did this night. "I will not let you do this," Lyon insisted, silently pleading with his Master to change his mind. But he knew it would not be.

"Stand aside, old friend-" the sarcasm was thick in the elder vampire's voice. "Before I send you to greet the gods before her!"

Isabel hated boats. Hated boats. She wasn't ever sure where it came from originally. Maybe from someone else's memories, somewhere.

But the seasickness didn't help.

Her stomach had quieted for the moment, as she leaned on the railing of the deck of the small paramilitary 'yacht' that had brought them to the little island off the coast of Ireland for their job. It was an easy, in-and-out gig from some church ruins. Some rich asshole had thought they'd found the secret to the holy grail. In all honesty, he had watched 'Da Vinci Code' one too many times and they had all unsurprisingly come up empty-handed.

But whatever, rich assholes paid well.

Tex was standing next to her - and had even offered to 'hold her hair back' - well, he would, if he could touch her. But he was good, uncomplaining company as she had tried not to yack up her lunch too badly.

"Hey Izzy-" Tex started, thoughtfully, leaning his elbow on the railing, head on his hand. "What's your retirement plan?"

Isabel laughed and looked over at him. "I don't have one. I figured I'd keep doing this until one of you idiots lets go of the belaying line and I fall to my death."

"Yeah yeah," Tex grumbled. "I only let go that one time, and it was like fifteen feet."

"Fifteen feet, over a two hundred foot drop," she dutifully reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah! I get it," Tex grinned. "I'm not allowed to lower you anymore. Sheesh. Way to hold a grudge." The southerner was happy for the brief shift in moods, but she could sense a cloud hanging over him.

"What's wrong, Tex?" Isabel shifted closer to him, letting her arm touch his. They were both wearing long sleeves in the chilly weather - so he was in no danger.

Tex looked down at the black waves, and sighed. Her gift was both a blessing and a curse to her friends. "I don't want to do this until I die. The more I do this, the more I see that happening."

"Oh, bull," Isabel leaned into him, pushing him playfully with her shoulder. He smirked. "You'll outlive us all."

"Hey. Let's make a bet. If I die first, you owe me ten grand. If you die first, I owe you ten grand." Tex grinned out at the waves. It was a morbid bet - one meant to make light of his worry.

"What a shitty bet. How're we supposed to pay up, if the other one croaks?"

"Peh, that's not the point. I don't know, a sweet-ass headstone or something. I want one of me, like, carved. Flexing. And I want it to say in latin on the base something like… 'He had a gigantic dick.'"

Isabel mimed as if she were writing something down on her palm. "Giant statue, carved with, 'he was a giant dick' in latin. Got it."

Tex shoved her, nearly knocking her over - making her squeak and laugh, catching herself on the railing without any trouble. It had officially ended his bad mood. Isabel was glad for that, at least. The last thing she wanted to think about was life without her friends. Her family.

Adrian had grown up in this place. It was truly the only home he had ever known. Even with its strange and maddening corridors, archways into nothingness and crisscrossing pathways designed as if to drive a man insane - it brought some semblance of dark comfort to him.

Since his conversation with Isabel, the architecture of the castle had indeed become more amenable in its construction. Adrian felt pity for the young woman. His father had clearly become infatuated with her, to strike such a bargain such as he had. Moving the castle and pausing his crusade to end mankind was a large ask. To grant it, meant she held some meaning to him.

Dracula would destroy her, one way or another. Dracula destroyed those around him - it had always been so. At least she seemed to understand the consequences of her actions. Adrian took some solace in that she was not some doe-eyed child, seeking to do the impossible. Seeking to somehow save the vampire king from himself.

Adrian himself had little hope that his father was truthful to his word, that he would suspend his desire to see mankind stricken from the face of the earth. Such things had once been possible, but now seemed a far-fetched dream. For over twenty years of his young life, Adrian shared a 'happy' relationship with his father and mother. Fleeting in the context of their long lives - but any spark of light in the darkness was worth cultivating.

The creatures of the castle now took little interest in him. They avoided him at all costs - ducking into the shadows and crevices of the winding hallways and grandiose chambers at first sight of him. The more humanoid, sentient creatures ignored him, or found reasons not to be seen at all.

Not usually prone to bouts of nostalgia, he allowed himself a brief visit to the library that he had spent so much of his childhood. He sought out Lyon, the priest - who had been his tutor and friend. Now, with an unsteady truce between he and his father - the two vampires were allowed to converse without coming to blows.

All such things being equal, Adrian hoped this young mortal woman would succeed in her goal of tempering the vampire king's wrath for as much time as she was able. But the thought of her succeeding where all others had failed brought much dread to his uneasy mind. Dracula had long since sought to bind another to himself with the ritual once made for him by a witch of ancient times. 'The mother and originator of all magic, dark or otherwise' he had heard his father describe her once as such. 'The first of her kind, as I am,' the story was told.

But it was no gift, it seemed. It had proven to be a curse, instead. No mortal had withstood the poison that was Vlad's undiluted blood. And now, he sought to doom another to such a fate - not for love, but out of his selfish need to fill the emptiness in his soul.

And yet, Adrian was prepared to allow this thing to come to pass. Adrian was sworn to stopping his father from destroying the lives of many. Isabel was prepared to be a willing sacrifice to see this come to pass - a sentiment he knew all too well.

Adrian was, and always had been, jealous of his father. Not for his power, not for his wealth and the castle. No. Jealous of his ability to live. Angry that the vampire king could still find joy in the world. That he could shirk all that he was to walk amongst the mortals for a time. When he had taken up home in England during the nineteenth century and drew the ire of a new clan of vampire hunters - Adrian had watched from afar. The 'Van Helsing' clan seemed to need little help with the vampire lord, in his weakened state. Removed from the castle and therefore much of his power, Dracula fell.

But not before Adrian watched as he charmed a young girl, and took solace in her warmth, her life.

And there was the source of Adrian's jealousy. Dracula could seek to exist free of his chains - at least for a time. This was a simple joy denied to Adrian at every turn - due to the actions of his father. Adrian was bound to this endless cycle, bound to his duty to stop Dracula from destroying all the world.

For all those reasons, Adrian wished success to the young empath. For hope that it would delay his father's wrath upon the world. For hope that it would allow he, himself, some freedom from the chains of this endless toil.

He passed through another gateway in his trek across the castle to seek out an old friend in the gardens - and instead found himself in a chamber he did not recognize. There was nowhere in this place that he did not know - nowhere he had never set foot. Or at least, he believed such things until this moment.

Adrian found himself standing in a large antechamber. Free of the intricate baroque and rococo embellishments, this room felt… older. Ancient. He had never seen a place like this. Dim light streamed in from high above - although from what source, he could not tell. It cast faint shadows along the stone surface of the walls and floor. Not polished marble - instead hewn from giant, ancient blocks of sandstone. It felt impossibly old. Where had he found himself now?

A wooden door stood in front of him - soaring several stories above him. It was open, swung inwards from the split in the middle. He was not here alone. Adrian's hand rested on the hilt of his blade, as he caught sight of a figure he had not seen in many, many years.

Adrian walked through the doors, his boots barely making a noise on the stone floor. He had no reason to disguise his presence. The creature in front him would have known he was there, the moment he entered.

This second room was massive - walls stretching upwards to form a dome overhead. An intricately painted mural that covered the entirety of the dome. It was a mural of the castle itself - figures locked in poses of battle, of death, or of triumph. In the center of the room was a circular array of columns. They stood guard over a pool of deep, black liquid. It's surface reflected tones of red and crimson in the flickering torchlight. It was a pool of blood.

Adrian would have spent time to marvel and wonder at his surroundings, but for the figure in the black coat. "Hello, father."

"What mean you, to bring him here…?" he heard Vlad say - his voice quiet. Those were not words meant for him. "To end my life, before I end yours?"

Vlad turned to face him finally, an Adrian's hand gripped the hilt of his blade tighter. The look on his father's face was one of… sorrow. Of anguish. Of hate. "If you seek to kill me, my son… do so. I will not stop you."

Adrian made not a movement in response - holding perfectly still as he pondered over his words. "What of the empath you keep your prisoner? If I were to strike you dead, care you not what will become of her?"

"She is dying," Vlad responded and looked back to the pool of blood at his feet. "Come the moon rise in but a few hours, she will be as the wind."

Adrian's brow furrowed in confusion. Vlad had never been one for games of deceit. He was certain his father spoke the truth. "How has this come to pass?"

"As all knew it would," Vlad said, his voice taking on an edge of anger. Adrian watched his hands ball into fists for a brief moment. "By my own vanity and inscrutable desire to see hope itself dashed to pieces upon the sands of time."

"Father…" Adrian began, taking a step towards him. Wary of the elder vampire. "What have you done..?"

Vlad looked down at his own palms - and Adrian saw for the first time the blood that stained them upon the edges. "I have destroyed the love that was given to me for the first time with utter transparency unto my being. With acceptance for what I am, without doubt - a monster."

"But why?" Adrian insisted. Only once before had he seen his father caught in such grief. The thought that he would pitch himself headlong into such suffering was beyond the madness of even the vampire king.

That brought a laugh out of Vlad - a cynical, spiteful sound. "Oh, but for a prophecy that I alone seek to be cut in cloth and shrouded upon my empty existence! That I am, and ever shall be, this contemptible beast you see before you. To look upon my soul and see that which is worthy of love is to be a liar and a traitor, is it not? Convinced of the simple truth of such, I sought to force her hand - to reveal her duplicitous betrayal. But one cannot play the cards that one does not hold."

Vlad clenched his fists again, this time digging his pointed tails into his own flesh. Adrian smelled his blood upon the air. "I forced her to chose between her friends, and I. To finally reveal her words as falsehoods that I could not decipher otherwise. But rather would she see my revulsion of my own being, as instead a failure on her behalf," Vlad said with a cruel laugh again, pointed at himself. "Rather she take her own life than betray her love. For her friends - or for I, unworthy recipient of such a gift."

Adrian released his hand from the hilt of his sword, and felt pity for the creature before him. His father had spoken more to him in words and intent in this brief moment than he had in centuries. Dracula had driven the poor girl to suicide - as he could not accept her love through his own malignant view of himself. "Why are you here, and not at her side?"

"I come here to destroy this place. Once and for all. We stand at the heart of the castle itself. It is fitting that you be here for this - perhaps you wish to aid me in my venture to end this castle and all who live within it."

"What?!" Of all the things he expected from his father - the words that left his mouth just now were not amongst them. "You would destroy this place and all the souls within it - your home, a source of your power?"

"If I die, so be it. Let the darkness claim me, and the devil have my soul once and for all." Vlad turned back to the pool of blood before him, and held out one hand, palm down, as if warming it over a fire. Adrian could sense the power within his father swell. He was summoning some manner of dark magic to strike at the heart of the castle itself.

"Father, this is madness, even for you…"

"Are you not pleased?" his father said, glaring askance at him. "I thought you would rejoice."

"It is not of the action you wish to perform that I am apprehensive. I fear your motives towards such are rash and ill-inspired. If what you say is true, you are needed elsewhere." Adrian spoke his words carefully. The last time he confronted his father over a decision made from reckless hate, Adrian himself spent a year in a coffin, recovering.

"Tell me then, dear boy, where I am 'needed?'" Vlad said through a scoff.

"Mother died alone the night the humans came for her. You would leave Isabel to that same fate. Destroy this place or not, I do not wish to see you repeat your mistakes of the past. Mourn her in anger if you must, but do so once she is truly gone." Sometimes, Adrian felt as though he were scolding a child. He wondered if all children felt that way towards those who raised them.

Vlad lowered his head, and dropped his hand to his side, with a heavy sigh. Anger built up in him as a rageful snarl before he finally let out a roar and drove his fist into a nearby column. It cracked at the force of the impact - splintering the stone and caving it inwards with the strength behind the blow.

The vampire king's anger crumbled much the same as the stone beneath his wrath. The admission that came next shocked Adrian. "I destroyed the woman I love… What would you have me do..?" Dracula asked after a long pause, his head lowered again. Black hair shielding his face from view.

Dracula claimed to feel love for the young empath. Nothing in his manner suggested otherwise. Adrian felt deep sympathy now for his father - even after all he had suffered at Vlad's hands. He had never seen his father so vulnerable. Even after Lisa's death, Dracula had taken strength in his own convictions. Now, weary of life and loss, tired of this existence, he saw his father stripped away of all the arrogance and bloodlust he had come to represent. "... Go to her. After all this be said and done, I will assist you. In what ever fate you decide for yourself and this place."

"Thank you… my son."

And with that, he was gone.

The line between life and death is blurry.

It is a common misconception that when you died, it was a one-way step through the veil and into the 'ever after.' That it's easy to pinpoint the exact moment of death - the exact point of no return. The pearly gates. A door. A clearly marked threshold.

That isn't quite true.

From the outsider's perspective, sure. Mostly. Medical science can tell you when a person has entered 'brain death' - or that their organs have stopped working. But the exact point in which a soul leaves the body is harder to examine. Harder to understand.

Harder even to grasp when you are experiencing it. It is more like walking through a clearing in a wood - measurable by steps, perhaps. How close, how far, from the journey's end is subjective and in the eye of the explorer themselves.

Isabel now stood in that clearing - surrounded by the forest of her soul. She had just broken out of the trees behind her - and saw, across the stretch of soft grass, another wall of trees. Same forest, different trees. This was inside her head, she knew - her mind desperately trying to understand what was happening to her and visualising it as best she could.

The sun was setting.

She was dying.

The forest was silent around her - not even the rustle of wind in the trees. No animals in the branches, no birds singing their last tune before nightfall. She was alone.

Across the clearing, she saw only the same as she saw behind her - rows after rows of trees and brush. A deer path ahead of her - and she knew it was where she must go. Lingering here as the sky faded from its beautiful ruddy hue into blues and purples served no purpose. This was not a place that people stayed. Even those who lingered as ghosts did not come this way.

Isabel knew what it meant, to step along the deer path and into the trees ahead of her. Tears fell from her eyes as she understood and grasped entirely what was to happen to her - and what had transpired. There was no mystery here, no hidden secrets. This was not a walk in the woods that she took peacefully - but nor did she fight it.

Isabel had taken her own life. Driven a knife into her throat. The 'why,' had been complex and multifaceted. To avoid the pain of betrayal. To avoid the impossible decision Wraith and Vlad had faced her with. The pain flooded forward again as she remembered the confrontation with Vlad.

He had given her friends to the monster that hunted her - to see if she would betray him. Did he trust her so little? Did he care for her at all, as he had claimed? Isabel knew she was of little worth, in the grand scheme of life. It made perfect sense that Vlad would wish to be free of the burden that she posed.

But highest amongst her reasons for ending her life, was seeing the cold, stern look on Vlad's face. Feeling his guarded indifference.

Isabel let the tears fall. This was her path now.

Foot in front of foot, she silently made her way towards the other side.

It wasn't until her foot touched something wet upon the ground that she even knew she was barefoot.

A puddle of blood lay at her feet. Crimson against the grass. It should have been swallowed by the hungry earth. A vision of what she had become, perhaps? No. Isabel knew better. She knew she was no longer alone. "Come to see me off?" she said to the puddle.

A form took shape - building up from the blood at her feet. It took the shape of Vlad - although she knew now what she was looking at. With his long white hair, and eyes that were only shades of scarlet. Clothes that matched the shades of crimson that were once in the pool of blood.

It was the castle. Or at least, some semblance of it - only able to communicate in dreams, and now, in death.

"Please don't taunt me," she said with a weary breath, her hands tucked into her pockets. She had no need for her hoodie and gloves here. It didn't matter anymore. "Just let me go… you win. I'm so tired of being threatened, or reminded of my failures… Just please let me go without rubbing it in."

"You must return," the figure spoke, features creased in anger and strife.

"No," Isabel replied with a shake of her head. "I don't know what your game is, but no."

It stepped towards her - not threatening, but insistent. She held her ground, uninterested. She was past feeling fear. "You must return," it reiterated. "For his sake alone."

"I don't care." Isabel shrugged. "And neither should you. You're the one who wanted me dead."

"I cannot pull you back," the phantasm of Vlad said, brow furrowing in frustration and confusion. "His blood is a poison in your body, one I cannot overturn. You are beyond my reach."

"Good. Give me one reason why I should do anything you want."

"He will dismantle us all, if you do not return. He will destroy us." There was fear in its voice, now. It raised its hand to her - as if to take her by the shoulders. But it hesitated - looking straight ahead in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening to it. Understand why she mattered so much. Isabel could at least sympathize with that much.

Isabel raised an eyebrow at that. "Why would he do that? Why do I suddenly matter?!"

"I cannot reach you. He seeks to end it - end us all. You must return-" it was repeating itself like a broken record. Isabel realized it wasn't really hearing her - wasn't really seeing her. Its eyes were unfocused, staring through her like she wasn't there. It was like an intercom system that had manifested itself. Broadcasting on every channel, trying to convince her. It probably didn't know if she could really hear it speaking. Isabel took a step to the side - and sure enough, the figure of the Castle as Vlad was pleading with empty air.

She was still alone. Isabel let out a wavering breath and looked at the woods that stretched out ahead of her. The path before her was cold - empty. Alone. Peaceful, if because of a lack of suffering. The path behind her was chaos, pain - and god only knows what truly awaited her.

"He will destroy us. He will destroy those you care about. He will destroy all of us in his rage… You must return… You must stop him. We cannot!"

"Fuck off," she said to it, knowing it couldn't hear her. But man, it felt good anyway.

"You cannot leave him. You cannot leave him to be like this."

"What a load of horse shit," she said as she walked back in front of the unseeing spectre. She glared up at his pained expression. "What a load of fucking lies," she reared back her fist with the intention of punching the creature in the face. It wouldn't do any real good - except man, she bet it would feel fantastic.

Her fist was stopped, a half inch from his face - and crimson eyes were now trained keenly on hers. It had caught her wrist in her hand. God, she was such an idiot. It couldn't see her - until she went to make any kind of contact with it.

It's face softened - no longer a look of pain and confusion, but instead of sorrow. "He loves you."

"You're lying, and I don't believe you." Isabel yanked on her wrist, but the creature held her fast. "Let me go," she said. She was very, very sick of saying those words.

It reached forward, and placed its other hand on her shoulder. "You will see."

Isabel's mind went white as it pushed a vision into her mind. A memory - as if she had touched someone for the first time, or touched an object. Flashes of imagery danced in front of her. This was what the castle remembered. She stood, watching herself and Vlad as she confronted him in the clocktower. Watched as she turned the blade on herself.

"No!" Vlad screamed and dashed forward - with all his vampiric speed. But he had not expected this. He had not thought she had been pushed that far. He was too late.

Vlad caught her in his arms as she collapsed, and he knelt, cradling her in his lap, hand uselessly trying to stop the blood that poured forth from the wound. He removed the knife and threw it aside, sending the offending object clattering across the marble floor.

Isabel watched herself as she coughed - eyes wide - and blood flecked her lips. As she tried to breathe, blood bubbled forth from the wound in neck and cascaded down her shirt. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to the wound, in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. But it only succeeded in turning the white cloth an instant tone of deep, dark red.

"You foolish, selfish thing-" Vlad said to her, as he cradled her dying body. "You cannot die! Not like this."

Isabel's eyes were now glassy, unseeing - the tempo of the blood pushing its way forward from the wound was slowing. In this memory, she wrapped her own arms around herself, the horror of watching herself die being almost too much to bear.

"No-" Vlad cried, his voice desperate and cracked. "Do not leave me…" Isabel watched as tears of blood formed at the corners of his eyes and ran down his cheeks, unchecked. She felt his agony - and it was not a lie. The horror she felt as she watched herself die was mirrored in the vampire king.

No healer would reach her in time, she knew. He could not move her, for fear of finishing the job and causing her further injury. So he did the only thing that was in his power to do. He bit into his own wrist, tearing the flesh open, uncaring at the painful gash he left behind.

He placed the open wound on his wrist to her parted lips, forcing his blood into her mouth. "You cannot go. Be you a vampire or human when you wake, you will not leave me! Not like this. Not due to my own childish arrogance…" Vlad snarled angrily at himself. "Isabel," he said her name, and it was a plea into the darkness. Desperate. Hopeless. "Forgive me… I beg of you…"

The vision shattered and broke, and the creature that was the castle before her, in this clearing in the woods released her wrist. "Why?!" she yelled at the creature, tears in her eyes. "Why should I fucking care?!"

"He is going to destroy us all. Tear us down by brick and mortar until we are gone. For he no longer wishes any of us - he himself included - to exist at all!"

"Maybe that's a good thing," she retorted.

"Think on those you know within these walls that do not deserve such a thing."

Isabel turned her back on the monster, arms wrapped around herself. She needed time to think. She had a choice before her, even before the castle appeared to show her that vision. Live, or die. Go forward, and send it all into the darkness as the sun set upon her soul. Return - and face all that it meant.

The sky was turning its twilight purple, and she knew her time was running out. Putting the knife in her throat had been a decision made out of pain, out of anger and suffering. She did not regret her actions. But she would not let herself commit to dying out of her own ego and out of spite.

She loved Vlad. Deeply, and with all that she was. But what he had done, the injury he dealt her, might be beyond her ability to forgive. He had pushed her to betray him, to test her, it seemed. He had refused to explain his motives before she had taken her own life. But regardless, his actions were the same. It would cost either his life, hers, Adam and Eric's, or some combination of the above. Someone would die.

Isabel had picked herself. With her dead, Adam and Eric were useless to Wraith. He would either murder them out of spite, or release them. But now, the Castle manifest was pleading with her to fight to survive - because Vlad was going to destroy the castle himself, and with that, everyone inside. Everyone would die. The castle - or the semblance of it that appeared in her mind - had not been lying. And she could see Vlad deciding to tear it all down. Hurting himself, for what he had done to her. 'Misery loves company' could be his personal slogan.

Adrian. Maverick and Aria. Lyon. Undoubtedly dozens of others, who lived within the Castle she had yet to meet. They didn't deserve to face oblivion because of her. Could she step into the darkness beyond and decide their fates? What right did she have, to do that?

If she let herself fade away - Adam and Eric would die, swept away with everything else. If she returned, there was a chance… however slim… they might live.

Isabel turned to walk back the way she came - and as her foot touched the grass behind her, she almost collapsed in pain. It felt like every fiber of her being was on fire - burning from the core. She cried out, and fell to her knees.

It took every ounce of her strength to stand up - force herself to get up through the pain, the flashes of memory. She felt the blood in her throat - felt the pain of the knife. Felt the pressure of Vlad's wrist to her lips. Now, she felt herself dying. Turning to walk back, to return, pushed those feelings to the top. The darkness.

Another step forward, and another - each step renewing the pain. Each step harder than the last. She could retreat, she knew. Turn around, walk into the end of her life, and all this would be over. The pain would end. But at what cost?

Another step, and another. She reached out to grab a tree that marked the edge of the clearing - desperately wanting to support herself with something. As her hand touched the bark - her world went black.