Hey.

You know those stories that are written from multiple points of view, from those of the characters to that of an omniscient narrator? Yeah, this is one of those. I'm trying something new: before I've always just chosen either first-person or third-person narrative, and stuck with it. Buuut I figure that, since this is an OC story, I might as well have something to spice it up and keep it interesting for whomever might be reading. (I'm not so arrogant that I'll ask people to actually care about the OC. That has to be earned.)

If it becomes necessary, I'll label who's viewpoint it is, but it should be pretty obvious.

This whole thing might end up being a flop; I don't know. But it seemed like a good idea at the time, so I'm running with it.

Again, thanks to my beta, Kaj-Nrig—even though I disagree about the use of present perfect progressive. :P

Waterglass Mirror

Chapter One

---:::---

Coming to rest beside a fallen tree trunk, I stopped and sat to catch my breath. I was in good physical shape, but I had been on this mountain for what seemed like aeons. The going was very rough, and more than once I'd found my way blocked by impassably dense thickets or sheer rock slopes, and had had to turn back. By now, I was exhausted.

I sighed and rested my head briefly on my knees; loose strands of brown hair tickled my cheek. This never would've happened if I'd just gone with the others! I silently lamented. This was a celebratory post-high-school trip for myself and three friends – for all of us. We were supposed to stick together. I smiled slightly. A lot of our other classmates had chosen to go on a cruise to the Caribbean; we had instead opted for rural tourism through Italy and France.

A difference in tastes they found amusing, I was sure.

We were currently in the latter country, and we were due to spend a night camping in the ruins of a mediaeval castle. My friends – Jana, Aiveen, and Lizzie who was English – had left for the castle in the early morning after we'd spent the night at a bed-and-breakfast in a nearby town. But I'd wanted to look around the town's market for a while, and so had stayed behind. I'd set off for the castle at noon with a new hand-woven scarf shoved in my backpack to show for my morning's shopping, confident that my sense of direction wouldn't lead me astray.

Pride, as they say, cometh before the fall.

Although I don't often get lost, when I do I do so spectacularly. Elena, my mother would say, you never do anything by halves. My father would just laugh, and comfort his disconsolate five-year-old daughter until she stopped crying.

I got up and, after brief deliberation, started walking in what I thought was the direction of the castle. As I went, I imagined what my friends might be doing at that moment. Jana, the most responsible of us, would have made sure the tent and sleeping bags were set up; Aiveen and Lizzie would have already explored all the nooks and crannies, and the former would be making up ghost stories with which to scare us all.

But imagining was no use if I couldn't find the castle. I frowned, concerned. It was getting worryingly late; the sun's rays were coming through the trees at a steep slant. If I didn't find the castle soon... Checking my cell phone, I wasn't surprised to see that there was no signal. I was, after all, atop a mountain in a very rural area.

This was not good, though. Unable to phone for help, would I have to spend the night in the open? I didn't even have my sleeping bag; Jana had that, and all I had was the long coat I was currently wearing. Could I make it back down to the village? No, it'd be dark before I even got close, and trying to make my way down a mountain in the darkness was sheer stupidity – even if I did have a flashlight. I wondered if there were feral wild animals in these woods– there!

I gave a soft cry of relief and delight as I spied a crumbling stone pillar between the trees. Despite being tired, I broke out into a run – but as I did, the strangest thing happened: everything seemed to give a huge lurch, as though the world had suffered a sudden slight shift in momentum. I stumbled to a halt and looked around. Everything seemed to be the same. Behind me, the edge of the forest; unchanged. Before me, the (perfectly ordinary-looking, I assured myself) castle wall and towers were visible over a tall wall of rock.

And yet, there was something strange about the stillness. I considered it a moment, then shrugged, shouldered my backpack, and moved on. I would ask Jana, Lizzie and Aiveen if they'd felt it. As I rounded the edge of the rock wall, the entrance to the castle came into view. It was built practically at the edge of a cliff, and a deep cleft in the ground provided a moat of sorts. Surely at some point in history a drawbridge had spanned the distance; although the drawbridge was long gone, an earthquake had caused some boulders and a section of the outer wall to collapse into the rift, effectively forming a bridge.

I frowned. The tourism booklet had said nothing about having to cross a ravine and climb over boulders to reach the castle. Still, it had said that the castle was a fairly popular destination for campers and hikers, so I doubted the rocks were unstable. I gingerly picked my way across weather-beaten stones as big as my torso, heaving a sigh of relief as I hopped down to the other side unscathed.

---:::---

I was not panicking, I told myself firmly. This was true—so far. But I could tell I was breathing too fast; tendrils of anxiety settling in the pit of my stomach, constricting. I stared disbelievingly at the courtyard before me: it was empty, utterly devoid of life. I couldn't see my friends anywhere—and, more worryingly, I couldn't hear their voices, either.

I bit my lip, distressed. Surely they would have reached the castle before me; and we had planned on camping out in the open rather than in any of the inner rooms—even if there were any left—just in case they might turn out to be structurally unsound.

"Hello?" I called. "Jana? Lizzie? Aiveen?" No answer. What if they had gotten lost? After my own unpleasant experience with the mountain, it seemed a distinct possibility. They could be wandering around the forest, unable to phone for help...

Suddenly, from somewhere behind me, I heard a soft clack. I whirled around, startled. As I did, my foot struck a small stone, sending it clattering across the ground. I looked down uncertainly. Had that been what had caused the noise: a crumbling stone? The sun had almost fully set by now, and it cast long, uncomfortably deep shadows across the courtyard; I peered in the direction the noise had come from, but could see little.

"Hello?" I called again, and again there was no answer. I had almost relaxed when I heard, again from behind me, the muted sigh of cloth on cloth, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of being watched. My hand strayed to the Swiss army knife in my pocket, and I drew it out, unfolding the blade as quickly and quietly as I could with my other hand. I turned again, more slowly.

"Who's there?" I demanded, striving to keep my voice even, although my heart raced with apprehension. "Whoever you are, this is not funny." I paused for a moment as a new thought occurred to me. Lizzie had a fondness for practical jokes.

"Liz, if this is you trying to be funny..." I put a warning note into my voice—although really, by that point I would have been relieved if it was Lizzie. But Lizzie did not answer.

And, in that moment, the last vestiges of sunlight slipped from the courtyard, leaving only dusk.

I caught an impossibly fast blur in the corner of my eye—turned—and before me, so close, stood a man—except his eyes glowed an unholy red! I screamed, slashed wildly with my knife … and then it was knocked out of my hand, both my wrists were locked in an iron grip, and chill fingers rested on my throat.

And then... nothing. For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, I stared into the face of a monster... and the monster did nothing. Then its eyes widened, and it uttered something in a language I didn't recognize. Its grip on my wrists tightened, and it half-shouted something else – that it was some sort of query was obvious by the tone. I flinched in pain and shook my head, trying desperately to get rid of the cool hand on my neck.

"I can't – can't understand–" I gasped.

As quickly as he had appeared, he retreated, the red glow in his eyes dimming, and I collapsed on my knees. I watched, paralyzed, tears of fear pricking my eyes, as the man-monster paced, muttering to himself. Then he turned to me.

"What's this, some trick of Walter's? Who are you?" he demanded.

"W– what?" I stared uncomprehendingly.

"I said," he articulated in perfect English, "who are you?"

---:::---

Commence huge long author's note. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, but I like long author's notes so here we are. They provide an interesting insight into the mind of the writer, I feel. (For those that just want that hint, it's near the bottom.)

In case you missed it, her name is Elena. 'Lena to friends. Not that it's important. Anyway. As if it isn't obvious, the monster there is none other than Joachim (who's a bit stuck in the past, as he thinks that Walter's still alive and kicking somewhere), and my poor, hapless OC's gone and gotten herself in way over her head. Quoth my beta: "She'd be perfect in a horror movie."

No, I don't think romance will feature strongly in this fic. I can't say that it won't at all—haven't decided yet; might as well be truthful—but Castlevania is primarily a horror-themed game. Plus, to Elena, Joachim is a monster. Just sayin'.

There is a fair element of campiness along with the horror and action, though—but hopefully this'll fit in with the whole 'Castlevania' feel. After all, a series where the villain STEALS MEN'S SOULS AND MAKES THEM HIS SLAVES has to have some campiness to it.

This chapter clocks in at a more-or-less healthy 1,450 words, author's notes not included. Prologue plus Chapter One are 2,394 words, which is better. I like long chapters, so I'll try to make subsequent chapters lengthier.

Whoops, before I forget! That clue I promised. Okay, here: what was the status of the whip at the point when Leon used it to defeat Joachim? (Bright readers or hardcore fans should know this, easy.)

Reviews are appreciated, as always. Concrit is worshipped.