By the time the source of the blaze was in within sight, it was beginning to put off heavy plumes of black smoke, burning her throat and eyes.

What the hell happened here?

The field that led up to the house held a chilling sight. Bodies strung up like scarecrows kissing the tops of the tall swaying grass. At the top of the hill beyond open gates, a large house was engulfed in flames. Thankfully the embers from the burning house didn't carry in the wind to the dry grasses surrounding it. Eyes tearing from the heavy smoke, she decided to move back down to the village to try to get some answers or at least get a ride back to the 21st century.

Making her way back through the gates of the cemetery, something caught her eye. The large door with the missing plates was open, split down the middle at the seam.

That was a good sign, right? Someone must have been through here. Someone with half a brain at least to be able to trigger the locks. She made her way to a drawbridge, which she hoped would lead around the proximity of the castle. In front of her sat the mouth of an underground path, decently sized. Clicking on the flashlight connected to her vest, she ventured inside. A familiar scent lingering in the stale air gave her pause. Was that cigar smoke she was smelling? What was she going to find in a dark cavernous tunnel attached to a town of monsters?

Curiosity heightening, she continued. Echoing just beyond her sight, footsteps. And voices.

Gliding up the steps as softly as her body would allow, Celia slipped her gun back into her hand, the weight of it in her gloved hand reminding her it was the only thing between her and whatever was at the end of this tunnel. If it was something deadly, she could only hope there were enough bullets.

"…you're not local. Even better."

The voices were much closer now. Peaking around the corner, her breath caught as she grabbed her chest as if to stop her heart from hammering out and slapping onto the floor. She found him!

Ethan!

He was alive. And alone. Between them stood a man, facing away from her, arms outstretched as he spoke.

A bobbing motion caught her attention. Chunks of metal hung suspended around the room, floating alongside the stranger. He was big, much taller than her. From behind, she could make out broad shoulders underneath his duster and long, salt peppered brown hair beneath a wide brimmed leather hat. His gloved hands twisted and clenched as the metal undulated at his sides. Ashes sparked from the butt of a cigar as it was tossed to floor and ground out under his foot.

Ethan stood in the far-left corner of the room, facing them both. If he saw her, he didn't react. The man – or what looked like a man – closed the distance to Ethan as he spoke. The air felt charged, almost electric. Her stomach dropped and twisted, and she contracted every muscle in her body to not drop to her knees and puke right there. She remembered this smell. Like static electricity. Like the smell in the van before her world was turned upside down…

Would three bullets be enough to take this guy down? It took three perfect headshots to bring down that thing in the village. As she contemplated if she was strong enough to decapitate someone with just a field knife, a buzzing lit up her hand. Her gun felt, strange. As if it was vibrating. Celia gripped down hard, fearing rumbling would force her to drop it when suddenly an awful wrenching noise shot through the chamber. In horror, she watched a length of rebar as it sailed across the room and slammed into Ethan's chest. Laughing, the man moved again, cornering Ethan as he sunk to the ground, taunting him.

Startled, but taking advantage of the commotion and Ethan's cries, she fell to her bottom and slid into the gap behind a large wine barrel the wall. Using her heels for leverage, she slowly pushed herself back into the corner, core tight and sitting upright as she fought to control her breathing and suppress the wild terror coursing through her veins. He was not a man, but another monster. And unfortunately, he seemed intelligent unlike the first mindless animal she took out.

If the buzzing of the gun felt odd before, it was outright violent now. From the gap between the barrels, Celia could see metal whipping wildly around the room, airborne everywhere and beelining straight at Ethan. The glinting of light on metal two inches from her eyelashes made her jerk back, clutching her firearm. But she was alone. The dog tags she wore around her neck hovering close to her face, the chain taunt around her neck pulling hard by some unseen force. Towards him. Before she could reach her throat to pull them back under her vest, the chain snapped, sending them flying and whipping blood from her neck into her face in the process. Panicking, Celia tried to snatch them with her free hand, but grabbed only air as a sudden clang of metal crashing to the ground had her squeezing into a tight ball again, terrified that her position had been compromised. Would he be standing over her soon? It would only be a matter of seconds until that rebar was cruising toward her head…

But nothing happened. It was oddly quiet now save for low squeaks of twisting steel.

Slamming of metal on metal rung out in the small room then finally, quiet again. She heard rustling what sounded like chains and cursing. Smelled smoke – was it a cigar? Then the awful crunching sound of a body being dragged over a dirty floor.

"Let's just get this over with." His voice was low and gravelly.

She could feel him move past her, presumably dragging Ethans dead body behind him. Every hair stood on end at his presence. Celia was frozen, a statue, steeling herself for when he would jump behind the barrel and catch her cowering in her hiding spot.

Seconds passed. Lungs burning and hands shaking, her breath and blood crashing in her ears so loudly she thought there was a chance he would actually hear it. But he never came.

Regulating her breathing, she pulled herself to her knees and wiped the blood from her cheek. Something was nagging at her…something was familiar about this guy. Bubbling up from her memory – realization dawned as the pictures flashed in her mind. The alter. Though she only saw him from behind, the hat, the hair... Her head spun. Was Miranda still alive? No. She was there. She killed her. They killed her. There was no way she survived that.

Gathering herself and slowly counting backwards from ten as if each number would replace pieces of the spine she seemed to lose in the confrontation, she slunk out of her hiding place and moved to the far wall where Ethan had been standing, lightly placing her hand on the lever. She couldn't believe she caught up to Ethan only to watch him being brutally murdered in front of her. She had been so close. Almost made it to him. Almost…

If Miranda was alive, she would have gone after Rose. Now she had two objectives. Find a phone and find Rosemary.

She yanked on the lever.

Ethan…where were you going?