Lysithea walked the broken cobblestone road between the Wandering Sisters and the old church. She looked around as she spied a few new faces and a few old, clutching her notebook close to her chest.

Carefully, she approached a group of adventurers. They stood huddled together, speaking loudly about a venture they were planning towards the northern peaks.

"Excuse me." She said, nervously as she pulled her pen out from behind her sharp ear. 

The grey sky began to slowly spit down drops of water towards the creatures below.

"Yes?" One of the girls turned around to look at Lysithea, her head tilted. "What do you want?"

"I'm just wondering if you could answer a couple of-... of questions."

"Ask away."

"I was wondering if any of you have seen a vampire around these-... these parts. A tall man, dressed in black and red with a hood-... hood up?"

The rest of the group turned to look at her curiously before they looked between each other. The girl who had first responded to her crossed her arms as she pondered.

"Not personally, no. What about you guys?" She looked over her shoulder at her party and a short man, a gnome, raised his hand.

"I haven't seen him". He said. He had a messy head of ginger hair and smoked a large pipe, musing on the smoke as he spoke and pulled his green jacket closer around his person to protect himself from the rain.

"But I have heard a few things."

"Such as?" Lysithea's eyes sparkled and she took a step closer. The group moved aside so she could place herself in front of the short man.

"Well… his name is Al-something DeLaine. Apparently he is new to these parts but people say he used to be here many, many years ago."

Lysithea nodded and quickly started to scribble down what the gnome was telling her as he and his party watched her curiously.

"I know he fears the white witch." One of the other men said and the blonde-haired girl turned towards him.

"Who?"

"The white witch, Cynthia, she's the head and caretaker of the Purity followers and the Purified ground to the west. Dressed in a white wedding dress with a long light pink cloak. Blonde hair, lighter than yours. She's tall. An elf. Shows up here from time to time, although I haven't seen her in weeks."

Lysitheas scribbled the words down and gave the name big and bold letters so that she wouldn't forget. 

"Apparently just mentioning her name freezes him in fear." One of the women added and Lysithea's eyes darted between the party members.

"I also heard that he is a follower of the god tyrant. Although… The majority of the followers hate the guy, calling him a heretic."

"Yeah. I heard that they beat the snot out of this DeLaine person at some point."

The group murmured and chattered, comparing rumours and eventually they began to argue. Lysithea quickly noted down anything of worth and slowly took a step back.

"Thank you so-... so much. You've been very helpful." She gave them a kind smile and closed her book gently, placing the pen back behind her ear.

"You really shouldn't walk around asking about vampires like this." The girl who had spoken to her first said, flinging black locks of hair over her shoulder. "I've noticed you doing it for several weeks now and if you're not careful people will start to think that you're either a thrall, crazy, or obsessed with him."

Lysithea lowered her gaze, hugging the book tightly against her person. "I know… I know. Thank-... thank you all again." 

She carefully took another step back as she turned away from the group. Before she managed to get out of earshot she could have sworn one of them called her a lunatic.

As she walked she bumped into Cadmun who placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from falling over after she bounced off against his chestplate.

"Careful." He said with his usual stern tone which echoed from inside his cold steel helmet. Lysithea grabbed a hold of her jacket, just above where her heart resides and smiled sheepishly.

"I'm so-... so sorry Cadmun, I didn't see-... see where I was going."

"Don't worry about it."

She looked at him, attempting to find his eyes in the darkness of his helmet but found nothing. Talking to the man seemed impossible and she stood in awkward silence, shuffling on the spot while he seemed completely indifferent.

"I've been looking for-... for information."

"I know."

"Oh? I-... I suppose you saw the fliers? Someone took-... took them down almost as quick as Tristan put them up."

"I know."

Lysithea continued to look up at him as his helmet stared expressionless down towards her in turn.

"...Oh. Do-... do you know who it-... it was?"

"Man called Cormac Stray."

"I see. I have never met-... met him, I think."

"Messy black hair, broken shirt, high leather boots and simple brown trousers. He wears a black coat at times and a triangle hat of the same colour."

Lysithea bit her bottom lip and slowly started to blush, suddenly starting to feel very uncomfortable with the empty stare of the knight's helmet.

"I-... I see."

"A local lunatic."

Lysithea frowned and wrapped her arms around herself in discomfort. Cadmun looked at her with no sign of either ill intent or kindness. With his usual lack of flair, he placed a hand on her shoulder and it made her flinch.

“You should go and do something different for a while. To be this obsessed with something isn’t healthy for the mind. Better to do other things once in a while.” He said before removing his hand from her person and walking towards the ever blooming tree.

Lysithea watched him go and let out a low sigh as she made her way towards the graveyard. There she could sit alone, with no one to throw insults or judge her.

She sat down by one of the towers which contained tombs of forgotten heroes and nobles. She leaned her back against the stonework and let out a low sigh.

“Feeling a little down?” The voice of Orlock reached her as he came out from the open door of the tower. She flinched but then gave him a gentle smile.

“Orlock, so good to-... to see you.”

Orlock walked up to her, leaning against his stick as he always did. wheezing and coughing. 

“I have heard rumours that you are still looking for that vampire?”

“Yes…” Her eyes fell towards the unkempt grass and she began to pull on each blade. “But the people they-... they give me very little. It is all helpful mind-... mind you but I can hear their judgement and distaste.”

Orlock gave her a nod and gestured towards the ground. She gave him a smile and he sat down next to her, planting the stick in the dirt as he did.

“Yes. The folk around here are judgmental and cruel.” He said with a scoff. “They do not wish to know what hides in the darkness because they fear it. I do not blame them for that but… they push away the ones who are different. The unwanted.” 

Lysithea continued to stare into the ground, her eyes calm but there was a veil of sadness over them. Orlock watched her carefully with milky white eyes and then placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It will be alright, Lady Lysithea. They will not understand right away but you will prove their judgement to be wrong.”

“Do you really think-... think so?”

“Of course. You are stubborn, just like my wife.” He chuckled, heartily and leaned back against the rough stone of the tower. “If she believed in something she could do anything she put her mind to. Unwavering and brave.”

“Orlock, may I ask-... ask something?”

“Yes?” He looked towards her and she slowly gazed back.

“Why did she enter that-... that mirror?”

Orlock stared out over the graveyard, sadness displaying over his face for a brief moment. He slowly shook his head as he closed his eyes, breathing in the comforting air. Droplets of rain had begun to fall, colouring the grey stone so much darker. 

“We had a daughter. A bright young woman.” He said, slowly, his voice low. “Me and my wife were brought into the Veil because of me you see.”

“Why?”

“Well. They who are not born-... born here are trapped for different reasons. I committed a horrible crime in an attempt to bring my daughter back from the dead. My wife was my accomplice. Necromancy is strictly forbidden in my homeland.” He sighed heavily and she watched as he tightly took hold of his own robe as he spoke.

Gently, Lysithea placed her hand over his and he returned his gaze to peer over the graveyard.

“We were thrown here as criminals against nature. We learned of the mirror and that it connects this realm with the land of the dead.” His hand trembled slightly and he refused to look the girl in her eyes. “My wife thought that we could enter through the mirror once we found it, to bring our daughter back.”

Lysithea squeezed his hand and slowly Orlock turned his eyes towards it. He said nothing more and together they sat in silence, with only a cough or two to break it.

The rain began to fall heavier and heavier, splattering against the gravestones and grass. The sound of voices from the main road had died out, drowned in the noise of the rainfall. Orlock gripped his walking stick and pulled himself up on two feet.

“This world is cruel and dark, Lady Lysithea and light such as yours and my daughter’s need to be cherished and protected.” He looked down at her with a sad smile. “And I will do everything I can to protect it, against anyone who might want to snuff it out.”

“Orlock… Don’t do anything that will-... will harm you for my sake.” Lysithea quickly got up and took his hand in hers. 

Orlock looked out over the graveyard, his face without expression and the hood on his head casting shadows over his eyes.

“It matters not, Lady Lysithea.” He said, coughing and wheezing.

“It matters not.”