Victor awoke with a strange sense of calm. He got out of bed, dressed himself, and then combed his hair in front of the vanity as had become routine. The third day had arrived. Victor hadn’t seen much of Nicholas since their argument, occasionally passing him in the hall or catching a glimpse of him working in the office. 

Victor paused mid-brush as he realized that he’d never given Nicholas a proper farewell. Even if their relationship had turned bitter, Victor still felt like he owed him a goodbye. He grabbed his satchel from the floor and took one last look at himself in the mirror. With a deep breath, Victor opened the bedroom door and went downstairs. 

To Victor’s surprise, when he entered the dining room, he found John sitting alone at the head of the table. He was enjoying a black cup of coffee and a piece of toast. 

“I was the personal chef for the Strange household.” he sighed. “I’ve known Nicholas since he was a tot.”

Victor drew closer, taking a seat at the table. 

“People are always debating whether it’s nature or nurture that determines what we are…in Nicholas’s case, it was nurture. He wasn’t born spoiled. His parents gave him everything…anything he could have ever wanted, but never the one thing he actually needed.” John said. 

Victor looked at him with eager, waiting eyes. 

“Attention.” John finally answered. “So, Nicholas sought attention elsewhere–through his ‘friends,’ his parties, those damn suitors–” He paused, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “But then you came around, and something changed in him. I think you were the first thing he ever seemed to love more than himself.”

“Where is he?” Victor asked. 

John raised one of his bushy eyebrows, shaking his head. 

“I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how stubborn he is,” he said. “He went down the hill to try to stop Chase from getting to you.”

“What?” Victor gasped. “I have to stop him–”

Victor went to run, but John caught him by the arm. 

“I heard about what happened…about what you are,” John said. “I’m old. Much older than you or Nicholas. And in my many years I’ve come to know a few things. The truth is that you can’t change the past, but you can shape your present.”

“If I give myself to Chase, then maybe he’ll let Nicholas go–”

John shook his head. 

“You hurt people. And I bet you never want to hurt anyone again, isn’t that correct?” he asked. Victor nodded. “Well, since you’ve arrived in Still Water, quite a few people have come to care about you. And I think they’d be pretty hurt if you weren’t around anymore.”

Victor went to speak, but then he closed his mouth and nodded. 

He dashed out of the dining room and out the front door, running down the courtyard. Snow had gathered on the ground, falling gently from the gray sky. The air was crisp, cold, and wet. The wind rippled through Victor’s hair and clothes as he dashed down the tree-lined hillside. As he ran, his nose caught a whiff of smoke coming from somewhere nearby. He hopped off of the path and hiked through a part in the thicket, where he came across the smoldering remains of a bonfire in the middle of a clearing. Footprints were scattered across the snow alongside speckles of fresh blood. 

As his heartbeat quickened, Victor followed the pair of footprints deeper into the woods until he came across a circle of old birch trees. Nicholas was standing on one side of the clearing, Chase on the other. Nicholas was breathing hard, nursing his left arm, his fingertips dripping with blood. He looked exhausted–his skin sickly–dark rings weighing down his eyes. 

“I was expecting more from you…the curse must be claiming your body as we speak,” Chase taunted. “You beasts think you’re so high and mighty…but all it takes is learning your weaknesses, and suddenly you’re reduced to the pathetic things you really are.” 

Nicholas snarled, lunging at Chase with his right hand raised into the air, encased in red flame. With a smirk, Chase reached into the leather bag strapped to his back and pulled out a silver net. He threw the net up into the air, which wrapped around Nicholas’s body. Nicholas collapsed against the snow, smoke trailing off his figure as the silver burned away at his skin. Chase took a step forward and planted his boot on the middle of Nicholas’s back. 

“Hey!” Victor roared. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t the life of the party!” Chase yelled excitedly, throwing his hands out to the side. 

Nicholas squinted through the silver mesh, staring at Victor from afar. 

“Victor?” his voice was weary, nearly a whisper. 

“Your fight’s with me, not with him,” Victor said, glaring at Chase. 

“My fight is with all of you demonic freaks,” Chase said. 

Victor pulled out the dagger Nicholas had given him from the sheath across his thigh. He got into a defensive stance, the dagger held to the side. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What? Did you finally put a muzzle on that dog of yours?” Chase taunted. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Victor said. “Nicholas and I only want to help people. I-I can’t change what happened, but that’s not who I am–who I want to be. I just want to live in peace…with him.” Victor’s gaze fell down to Nicholas, who smiled. 

“Your kind doesn’t deserve to live.” Chase snarled, charging. 

He kicked the dagger from Victor’s hand and punched him in the abdomen, cracking one of Victor’s ribs. Before Victor could recover, Chase had struck him across the face with a closed fist. Victor staggered backward, wiping the blood from his lips. 

In one swift motion, Chase whipped a crossbow from his back and loaded it with a silver arrow. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a very, very long time,” he said, aiming the arrow at Victor's heart. 

The gleam of the arrow shone in Victor’s pupils, dancing like the sparkling snow. With a shaky breath, Victor lowered himself down to one knee and bowed his head. 

“Ha!” Chase cackled. “So you know it too! You know your life is worthless! Just as your parents did!”

Nicholas went to stand, but as he pressed against the silver netting, his skin sizzled painfully. He groaned in frustration, lying helpless against the earth. He flexed his fingers, attempting to use his magic to remove the net, but the metal began to glow an uncanny violet, refusing to budge. “The bastard enchanted it.” Nicholas thought. Without any other options, he angled his head toward Victor and yelled, “Run! Don’t just stand there!”

Victor couldn’t look Nicholas in the eye, keeping his gaze down at the snow. Chase’s finger wrapped around the trigger of the crossbow. With a sigh, Victor closed his eyes and waited. But the pain did not come. Victor went to open his eyes but found himself still swimming in a pool of infinite black. He turned and saw that standing a few feet ahead of him was the Black Hound.