“He just got back.” The burly man said, crossing his arms and gesturing into the light at the end of the tunnel with a nod of his head.

Orlock gave the large man at the gate a nod and walked into the beaming light. Lysithea had to hold her hand up to protect her eyes as they slowly got used to the brightness. The stench of the sewers still hung in the air but it had gotten more rotten.

Alas, the sound of footsteps echoing through silence had now been replaced by loud chatter and booming voices of accents and languages she couldn’t understand.

They had entered what looked like a tavern mixed with a market. Shady figures watched them as they walked across the underground street, between two stalls, towards a table far away from the bar. The large room was circular and large moving bodies of water surrounded it, with wooden bridges stretching across towards different tunnels and gateways. 

 "Sit. I will fetch him. Remember, do not speak unless spoken to. I will stand by the bar if you need anything."

Orlock explained, pulling out a chair for the blonde woman and pushing her onto her seat. She watched him rather wide-eyed as he walked across one of the rotten wooden bridges.

She stared into her lap, fiddling with the ends of her jacket as she felt eyes staring at her from every corner. In comparison to the people who filled the space of the underground town, Lysithea almost looked angelic. 

She could hear whispers and strong words of opinion about her. One man even approached, laughing cruelly and was about to ask her something.

She stared up towards him as the scent of burning flesh reached her nostrils.

The man was screaming soundlessly as a bony hand, without skin or muscle, appeared upon his shoulder. Black smoke emerged from his skin, boiling up between the skeleton fingers.

The man fell to his knees, weeping in pain as he cradled himself back and forth. 

Lysithea bursted up from her seat with such speed that the chair fell backwards onto the mold-covered stone floor. She stared up at a tall and lanky figure who had the stench of death emerging from his body. He was dressed in a purple and black robe and wore a white, cracked porcelain mask over his face. She watched as he cleaned off his skeleton hand with a dark cloth. His other arm seemed to be normal, thin and covered with a long and clean black glove. 

Lysithea swallowed hard and pressed her hands against her chest as she stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over the chair. 

"Lysithea. Greetings." The man's voice was husky and yet sounded like hot air squicing past rusty pipes. She could hear that he was grinning. He sounded very pleased with himself, yet so extremely threatening and horrifying that it made her whole body shake.

"I-... I-..."

"Take a seat, hmh?" 

The man walked around the table, gesturing towards her fallen chair which she quickly pulled back up and placed herself on. She took a tight grip of her clothing and wouldn't dare to look away from the man as he placed himself in his own seat, dusting himself off and leaning forward. His skeleton arm rested its elbow on the wooden table while the other merely lay across it, holding onto the other arm.

"You have come to ask for something?" He said, slowly. 

Lysithea felt her eyes falter and she ended up staring into the table before she took a quick look around, trying to find Orlock.

The old man stood by the bar, hunched over, using his walking stick as support so that he wouldn't tumble onto the floor, but he didn't look at them.

"Well?"

"I-... Who are you?" Her eyes snapped back and watched the porcelain mask as the man tilted his head like an owl. The perfectly round black pits of the eyes show nothing but darkness.

"I am Alchem, the head of the Occult. Lord of necromancy and saviour of the unwanted. I am here to help you child, in any way possible." He leaned forward and she could almost feel the cold emanating from his very bones. "Now tell me, what is it that you need, hmh? A way to find him, yes?"

Lysithea shivered and took a tight grip of her jacket. She could feel all the colour in her cheeks vanish into a pale blue as her body grew cold. Alchem chuckled and sat up straight, almost stiffly.

"I-... I have been trying to find Alistair for months now and-..."

"The vampire."

"Yes."

"But without success… yes, he is hard to get hold of if you don't know how."

"You know him?" She leaned forward, bumping her chest into the corner of the table. Her eyes grew wide, nearly sparkling with hope.

She heard a low grumble, a chuckle and a growl in one, emanating from Alchem.

"Of course. We work closely together. However… he has no idea who you are." 

She could hear a wheezing laughter echoing behind the mask as her eyes trembled and her hands began to shake.

"You'll need something to gain his attention. The question is, what would you give?"

Lysithea shuffled in her seat, her eyes moving from the ghastly and cracked porcelain mask and down into the murky wooden table. 

"I don't-... don't know."

She twitched at the creaking of his bones as he leaned back in his seat, sitting as rigid as ever. "If I knew I would have-... have done it a long time--"

She was interrupted by the sound of cold steel being placed on the table and she watched as Alchem pushed a sacrificial dagger towards her. She looked at it, and her own reflection which stared back. She looked so scared and small. Slowly she raised her gaze back towards him and watched as he leaned forward, one elbow rested upon the tabletop while he pointed towards the knife using his gloved hand.

"I will need a sample."

"A-... a sample?" 

He pushed the dagger closer towards her and procured a thin, crystal vial from inside his robes which he held in his skeletal hand.

"Of your blood, dear Lysithea."

"No!" She shook her head and moved the dagger back towards him. "Summers said that if-... if I would let him feed on my blood his-... his true self will be lost to--"

"Bah!" He waved his hand dismissively. The light from the burning torches which hung in the air danced through the crystal vial. "Summers knows nothing."

His voice dripped with nothing but poison. He placed the vial down on the table in front of her, next to the dagger.

"Give me some of your blood as payment and I will make sure mister Alistair comes looking for you."

Lysithea continued to stare towards the sharp knife and the container which lacked what it so badly wanted. She swallowed hard.

"Or leave it empty and never return here. The white witch will find him soon and then this whole quest of yours will be pointless…" She watched as he got up from his seat and began to walk around the table, hands behind his back. "She will kill him before he can ever learn your name."

Lysithea noticed that her breath had turned into mist as the room began to fill with a strange chill, it brought cold all the way down into her bones.

"It is up to you. I make this offer once, fill the vial with what it desires and you'll meet your vampire, or walk out of here to never return; leaving him to the white witch's fate."

She watched as he slowly moved past her, walking back towards the bridge. She looked back at the dagger and bit her bottom lip, hard.

Lysithea felt the sting of the shape blade cutting over her icy cold palm. The warm blood trickled down her skin and dropped slowly into the crystal vial she placed below it. 

She bent her wrist, pushing out more of her deep red blood, and as the black goo which hid inside her veins began to surface and leave a trace inside the vial she quickly pulled it away, holding it out towards Alchem who had stopped and turned to look at her.

"Just promise me he-... He won't be harmed by this."

The tall corpse of a man walked towards her with grace. One hand behind his back, while his skeletal fingers reached for the vial she held tight against her chest.

"You have my word." He uttered. He grabbed the vial and pulled it away from her grasp. For a brief moment she reached out for it, but as he leaned forward and with his free hand pulled his porcelain mask upwards she would stare at his rotten face.

Skin had begun to decay around his cracked and blue lips and as he opened his mouth, smiling devious towards her she spotted two rows of yellowed needle sharp teeth. Grey slime was stretched between his jaws as he opened them, sticking to his teeth like string cheese. His breath could only have been described as one of true death, hot yet cold at the same time. With a stench of mould and burnt skin. 

Lysithea rose from her seat with such force that her chair slammed into the floor again, cracking one of its legs.

"You have my word." He pulled down his mask and straightened his back. Staring into the vial and the glowing red liquid which surrounded pearls of black goo he shook it slightly and then turned on his heels.

As he began to walk away she grabbed onto his robes. His face snapped towards her, causing her to flinch backwards and nearly fall over. 

"No-... no wait! You can't let him drink it! Please-... please it will do no good."

Alchem stared silently at her and pulled himself away from her grasp. 

"Stay safe, little celestial. Once your friend has tasted what we'll brew up for him using this." Alchem gently shook the vial, holding it between pointer and thumb. "He won't be able to stay away from you for a single second…"

He gave Orlock a sharp nod and the old man placed his hand on Lysithea's arm, moving her backwards.

"We should go, Lady Lysithea."

"No! No wait!" She attempted to pull herself free but the old man's grip seemed far too tight and suddenly he seemed so much stronger than his frail form would show.

"We should go, Lady Lysithea." He repeated and she could only watch as Archem vanished across the raggedy bridge and into the darkness.

"Remember to carry garlic!" He shouted back, laughing to himself in a cold and echoing hum.