Eldrik climbed the stairs of the castle’s highest tower, arriving in a small circular room. He walked over to the window and laid his hands on the sill, gazing out over the moonlit countryside below. Squads of skeletons, their spears held high, marched in ceaseless patrols along the dirt roads that linked the small villages in his domain. Eldrik smiled and started laughing softly, before bursting into peels of triumphant glee.

“At last, I feel it,” he said with relish, “this is the power of evil. This is life!”

The face of a girl flashed suddenly through his mind. He shuddered, his glee broken by pain and confusion. The image of the Gravedigger’s face would not leave him.

How far you have fallen. You were once the best of men; now you are nothing but a sadistic monster.

Eldrik screamed furiously, struggling to banish the intrusive thoughts from his mind. He pointed down at a group of skeletons approaching the village to the west.

“Drag five people from their homes and kill them,” he whispered, “I don’t care who they are.”

The skeletons heard his command and drew their swords, marching on towards the defenseless village. Eldrik’s smile returned.

“You are all mine!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the night. “Cower you weak vindictive wretches, for judgement has fallen upon you!”

His smile was once more broken as he spotted a small group of half a dozen figures coming down the road towards his castle. They were clearly living humans but no common peasants, for they carried swords and burning torches and marched with discipline and purpose. Eldrik shrugged and pointed at the group of skeletons standing guard outside his castle.

“Eliminate them,” he whispered.

His skeletons turned and advanced on the intruders, levelling their spears in perfect synchronization. Eldrik chuckled, waiting expectantly for the massacre that would surely follow. His skeletons struck first but, to Eldrik’s confusion, failed to fell even a single foe. He watched in horror as the humans struck back, hacking apart his undead soldiers with ease before marching on towards the castle. These were no mere humans; these were the immortal witch-hunters.

The witch-hunters came to a halt at the castle’s moat and the figure in the lead looked up. His eyes, blazing as if with their own light, fixed upon Eldrik, causing the vampire to draw back in terror. His heartbeat quickened and his body starting to shake as a strange dread came over him.

“No,” Eldrik gasped, stumbling away from the window, “no, it can’t be!”

He nervously snatched a glance out the window to see the Angel and his witch-hunters laying a ladder across the moat as a makeshift bridge. Despite their meagre number, there was nothing he could do to stop them from getting inside.

Eldrik rushed down the tower stairs and along the adjoining corridor with frenzied speed, his heart pounding in his chest. He made it to the door of the keep and pushed it open, looking out into the courtyard to see that the witch-hunters were already using the ladder to ascend the castle wall.

“Hold off the attackers!” Eldrik muttered frantically as he dashed for the stables. “Open the gate! Lower the drawbridge!”

He ran into the stables and mounted the skeletal charger that stood ever-ready to carry its master. Willing the steed forwards, he rode out into the courtyard and saw his skeletons slowly pushing open the heavy gate. Eldrik looked up to see the Angel leap off the wall into the courtyard, followed by his witch-hunters. The drop would have broken a man’s legs, but clearly the immortals were beyond such concerns.

Eldrik fled towards the gate as the six immortals raised their swords and charged at him. He rode out and saw that the drawbridge had yet only been lowered halfway. He willed his steed onwards, riding up the half-lowered drawbridge and leaping off the end. He passed over the moat and landed on the other side with a jolt that shook every bone in his body. He sped along the dirt road, looking back to see the Angel and his witch-hunters run out across the drawbridge and begin pursuit on foot.

“You can run, vampire,” the Angel shouted after him, “but you will be running forever!”

Eldrik rode on; his undead steed needed no rest and would easily outdistance the Angel and his lackeys. But he would need all the distance he could get, for the Angel would not rest either. For eternity he would hunt Eldrik and all his kind until every, last vampire was dead. To run forever from an undying foe: this would be the fate of Eldrik Brant, a destiny he had not chosen but nonetheless deserved.

He looked ahead and saw the western village approaching. As he rode into the village he paused to see his skeletons dragging five people from their homes just as he had ordered.

“Kill them all! Kill them all!” Eldrik screamed, his voice echoing through the night.

Throughout the barony his undead soldiers ceased their erstwhile mercy and began slaughtering the helpless villagers. As he rode on, Eldrik felt no joy at the thought of the murders he had ordered. But he felt no regret. Not an inch.