It was night. The moon was full and bright in the middle of the sky, undisturbed by any passing clouds. As Victor, in his nightgown, passed by the vanity toward his bed, he froze. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was smiling. Not the wide, toothy grin that Nicholas wore, but a small, content smile nonetheless. Ever since he’d arrived at the manor, he could feel his emotions dethawing. One by one, they were slowly coming back to him: anger, sadness, joy, fear. Perhaps even love. But what did it mean to be in love? Victor had never been in love before. He didn’t know what it felt like–couldn't identify its symptoms. All he knew was that he enjoyed Nicholas’s company. He’d grown fond of Nicholas’s vast knowledge of the world, their conversations by the fireplace, and the tenderness of his care. 

As Victor crawled beneath the covers of his bed, he hid his blushing face, feeling his chest glow with warmth. And yet, despite it all, he felt as if something was still keeping him from feeling all he felt. Some unknown force was numbing his mind, keeping his thoughts at bay. And whenever he began to try to identify this unknown entity, it only alluded him further. 

Just then, he heard a crash from the hallway. He sprung out of bed and darted to the door. Peering out into the dark hall, he spotted Nicholas slumped over one of the elegant end tables by the banister. A vase lay broken at his feet, its porcelain shards twinkling in the pale moonlight. Nicholas was clutching at his face, panting heavily into the palm. 

“Is it your curse?” Victor asked, rushing to his side. “Are you in pain?”

Nicholas fell to the ground beside the vase, gripping at the fabric covering his pounding, aching heart. The pain felt so immense that his vision was darkening, verging on the edge of unconsciousness. 

“It’s getting worse.” Nicholas finally managed to say. “I’m needing more and more blood to keep myself sustained. I was hoping to reach my room before you’d see me like this.”

Victor studied his pained expression and frowned. He knelt beside the end table and unclipped his necklace, letting it fall to the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Nicholas asked with a terrified expression. 

“It’s only a little blood. Just enough to end your suffering.” Victor said.

Pain contorted Nicholas’s face, not from the curse but from Victor’s gesture. He hid his unsightly expression behind his clawed hands, trying to hide his hunger. Victor reached out and moved Nicholas’s hands away from his face.

“It’s not as if it’ll kill me,” Victor said. 

“It’s the principal.” Nicholas quivered as he spoke. “To hurt you–” he couldn’t finish the sentence, clutching his eyes shut and shaking his head. 

“You’ve given me so much. You opened your home to me. You’ve kept me fed and clean. But most of all, you’ve given me someone to console in, someone to read with on cold evenings by the fire, and to rest my head on when I grow weary. Now, please, let me give you something back in return.” Victor said. He hooked his finger around Nicholas’s pointed ear, caressing the side of his face. “I can see your pain, and I feel it as if it were my own,” 

“...Okay,” Nicholas said, his pupils trembling. “You’ll tell me…if it’s unbearable, won’t you?” he asked, leaning closer. 

“Of course,” Victor said softly.

He closed his eyes, feeling Nicholas’s hand swim up the back of his neck and into his hair. Nicholas’s warm breath tingled against Victor’s cold skin, breathing sporadically. Victor flinched as a sharp pain pierced his neck. He raised his hands and rested them upon Nicholas’s back, feeling him tremble beneath his touch. Victor couldn’t help but chuckle softly, thinking that he should have been the one trembling in such a situation. After a few moments, Nicholas pulled away, sheepishly wiping the blood from his lips. 

“Feel better?” Victor asked. 

Nicholas looked at him and then looked away, shyly nodding. He reached into his vest and pulled out a handkerchief, carefully wrapping it around the wound on Victor’s neck.

“Do you feel faint?” he asked, looking for signs of fatigue. 

“A little, but I’ll be fine,” Victor reassured.

“...Thank you,” Nicholas said, folding forward so that his head was on Victor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I weren’t this way. I wish I didn’t need to hurt things to survive. If I knew the price I would pay for immortality, I would have never…” his voice drifted. “No. That’s the shame of it all. Even after everything, there’s still a part of me longing for ‘more.’ Even after all my suffering, I still can’t admit that I am content as I am.”

“I think…the best of life is found in the simple things. At least, that is what I’ve noticed on my journeys across the country. A good book, a warm cup of tea, a pleasant conversation…in the end, those are the memories that I fall back on. Not the ones of grandeur.” Victor said. “It’s like flowers. The reason they’re beautiful is because they are impermanent. You could make a flower out of gold or diamond, but it’s not the same.”

Nicholas raised his head and hurriedly wiped his eyes before Victor could see his tears. Using his magic, he conjured a red rose in the center of his palm and offered it to him. 

“Isn’t it funny…how when we see something beautiful, we wish to give it something beautiful in return?” he chuckled softly. 

Victor took the rose, looking down at its smooth, curved petals. His eyes flickered up to Nicholas’s lips, which were still painted a faded red. He began to lean in toward them, but Nicholas pulled away, looking sheepish. He stood and offered out his hand, which Victor hesitantly took. 

As he stood, Victor was suddenly overwhelmed by a spell of dizziness, stumbling forward with his head in his hand. 

“Let us get you back to your chambers,” Nicholas said.

 He led Victor down the hall to his room and tucked him into bed. As he left out the door, he gave Victor one last grateful smile. In the darkness of his bedroom, Victor placed the red rose onto his nightstand, staring at its outline drawn in the moonlight. 

. . .

The next morning, Victor was surprised to find the dining room table covered with documents. Stacks of paper over a foot tall loomed on either side of Nicholas as he stared, bloodshot at an open book. 

“What’s all this?” Victor asked. 

“I’ve been up all night trying to find a way to undo my curse.” Nicholas groaned, rubbing the space between his eyes. 

“Why the sudden determination?” Victor asked, taking a seat beside him. Nicholas simply stared at the bandage around Victor’s throat. “Oh…” Victor muttered. 

“It’s never been this bad before…and I do not want to allow it to get any worse,” Nicholas said. He reached across the table and took hold of Victor’s hands. “I appreciate what you did for me, but please, never do so again. Hurting you is more suffering than anything the curse could inflict upon me.”

“I promise,” Victor said. “Have you managed to find any new information?”

“I did find one thing,” Nicholas said, pulling out an ancient piece of parchment. “It’s a scroll written in the language of the nix.  I can’t decipher the words, but I do recognize this symbol.” He pointed to a red circle with an upside-down skull at the bottom of the page. “It’s the same symbol that’s on the front of that accursed book.”

As Nicholas was holding up the page, Victor noticed that whenever the firelight glowed, the page shifted ever so slightly. He grabbed the paper from Nicholas’s hands and held it over the hearth. As the firelight struck the back of the page, hidden text began to glow across the ancient scroll–the runes twinkling like the embers coming off of the flame. 

“Amazing,” Nicholas gasped. 

“Can you make out what it says?” Victor inquired. 

“I cannot, but perhaps we can get a nix to translate it for us.” 

“What exactly is a nix?” 

“They’re water folk who live in the pond at the base of the hill,” Nicholas explained. “The only problem is that nix are notorious for tricking people into drowning. That’s why I try to avoid the pond as best I can and why I haven’t sought their help before.” 

“How can one be tricked into drowning?” Victor asked. “Surely, you’d notice–”

“That’s just the thing. You wouldn’t. If you lock eyes with one, it will put you under a spell, drawing you closer before you even realize you’re underwater.” Nicholas explained. 

“With the two of us, we shouldn’t have too much trouble,” Victor said. “If one of us gets caught in their spell, then the other can snap them out of it.”

“I suppose…” Nicholas said unsurely, crossing his arms. 

“This is the first clue we’ve been able to find–let’s not waste this opportunity due to skittishness,” Victor said

Nicholas cracked a smile. “I suppose you’re right.” 

As they were heading for the door, Nicholas dove into the kitchen and grabbed something from the counter. 

“What are those?” Victor asked, gesturing to the bundle of wax paper Nicholas was stuffing into his satchel. 

“They’re pastries made from that devouring gourd we defeated,” Nicholas explained, unwrapping the paper. Inside were square flakey pastries with a candied squash filling. 

“And how are those going to help us cure your curse?” Victor asked.

“They won’t. But they’ll keep our tummies full.” Nicholas said with a wink. 

Victor was starting to get used to the hill’s many pathways; some were man-made while others had been carved by the animals. Nicholas led Victor to a part in the trees where there was a pond of crystal clear water. Lillypads blossomed along the surface of the water while cattails sprouted along the rocky shore. 

Something raised its head above the water and then hurriedly dove back down, leaving behind a trail of bubbles. 

“Keep your wits about you,” Victor warned. 

Nicholas nodded, walking along the pond’s edge. Victor crept closer to the water and held out the ancient piece of paper. 

“Hello?” he called awkwardly. “We don’t wish to cause any trouble. We were just wondering if you could translate something for us.”

Suddenly, he heard a loud splash from across the pond. A humanoid, fish-like creature had leaped out of the water and wrapped its arms around Nicholas’s shoulders. The nix had hair made of seaweed and pale skin covered in scales. A lilypad sat atop its head, decorated with a single white flower. It was a beautiful creature with soft, gentle features and a feminine physique. 

“Nicholas, don’t look into its eyes!” Victor yelled. 

Nicholas turned his head, but the nix grabbed hold of it and forced it back forward. Before he could close them, Nicholas’s eyes caught a glimpse of the nix’s glare. His pupils dilated, becoming intoxicated by the nix’s spell.