Hector felt the wind howling madly at his face, laughing in fiendish mockery over such a foolish decision. It made them cackle more than when he foolishly joined Carmilla's failed coup, or when he joined that bastard Varney in resurrecting his dead old master Dracula.

But now, he would have the last laugh. At once, he clutched the mangled body falling alongside him and, unstrapping the hammer from his belt, thrusted the claw onto the chest. Immediately, a bright blue flame shrouded the corpse as it twitched and shook violently.

The bones inside the corpse began to burst out of the dead skin and expand like tree branches, continuously contorting until it formed the shape of wings. The flesh and muscles mutate, twisting the former noble until it barely resembles anything human. The body continued to grotesquely reshape and rebuilt itself into that of a winged silver wyvern.

Just as Hector could finally see the bottom of this deep chasm, a pit of sharp jagged rocks, the wyvern grabbed ahold of his shoulders and flew back up into the air just inches before he met his death by impalement. The wyvern dragged him away from the castle, which became nothing more than a blur in the snowy mist from afar, and into a clearing surrounded by a great forest.

The adrenaline finally wore off when he landed, Hector slumped against the nearest tree whilst he gasped breathlessly for air. Finally grasping the situation he just escaped from as well as his absurd luck, Hector both laughed maniacally and sobbed horribly. Never has he seen such a terrifying foe before, and that encounter absolutely left a mark on his already-damaged psyche. But he also never expected such a suicidal plan to enact in a way he expected, which was him surviving.

I must have God's luck, Hector thought to himself. I suppose it's too early for me to die yet. Maybe... I'll listen to what that magician Aeon was trying to say. Bahljet mountains, now where...?

Hector felt an intense pain from his stomach that drove him out of his train of thought completely. When he clutched it, he felt something warm and fluidly thick that was slipping through his fingers and dripped into the snow. It was blood, gushing out of a great wound. It would seem that the Pirate managed to wound him after all.

Hector's heart sank, just when he thought he would finally be free of the Pirate. With so little time, he held out his hand for his wyvern and stroked its head.

"Bahljet mountains... East of here..." Hector panted, staring at his night creature's glowing blue eyes. "Please..."

At once, the wyvern heeded his request as Hector gently climbed onto its back. And thus, the great wyvern spread its wings and soared into the air, heading eastbound to the mysterious Bahljet mountains.

After a few hours of searching through endless barren fields and blasted heaths where villages once stood, Hector felt himself getting much weaker as he lost more blood. Despite the ample amounts of sewing he made on the count, the blood continued to seep through the uneven stitches and bathed the wyvern's right wing with it.

The Bahljet mountains... East... Hector kept repeating the directions as he muttered away. He was careful not to fall into what seemed like a deep sleep, but secretly a grim invitation to his own demise. I cannot die! Not over something this stupid! That damned magician, I knew it! Blast, he tricked me! He wanted to send me to my death! He... he...

His rage-fuelled inner voice faltered as his eyes caught a surprising sight in the distance. Obscured by a faint mist was the image of a tall yet steep mountain that stretched out for miles in front of him. And nestled around the surface was, shockingly, a great field of lush green forests unaffected by the curse growing throughout Wallachia.

"Bahljet mountains..." Hector sighed in deep relief, his previous doubts washed away as he did.

Just then, the wyvern squawked loudly as it erratically flew around in circles. Even Hector was stirred awake, holding onto the reins. "Steady, girl! Steady!" He said. "What is it now?"

The wyvern cried out a shrill screech, as if it pained it excruciatingly to just venture a little further into the forest. And Hector realized it, too; he began to notice a barrier shrouding the area around the mountain. It may be invisible, but Hector can sense the great deal of mana fortifying this massive field.

"Let's stop here..." Hector gently patted the wyvern on its head. "I'll go alone. Stay close, I'll come back."

And very quickly did the wyvern agree to his command. It slowly descended off the air and landed on the firm land surrounding the forest, suspiciously lush and green. Hector sluggishly hopped off its back, the wound on his chest was beyond agonizing. Yet still, he held on his hammer like a cane to keep him standing.

The wyvern flew away, probably somewhere safe, as Hector took to the opposite direction and toward the mountain. The invisible barrier stood between him and his destination, but the pain on his wound was enough to numb his doubts away.

With one confident step, he marched through the barrier. Hector had expected the worst beforehand; would he die if he passed through it? And if so, would the barrier burn him or melt his body away like candle wax. Either way, nothing that severe happened.

Hector walked past the barrier with nothing more than a sudden ticklish feeling of the hair in his skin standing up. He continued to stagger deeper into the forest, and the sights he encountered on the way felt more bizarre and unwelcoming than the barren wastelands outside.

Everywhere he traveled, it was like a paradise only possible in a dream; only that Hector can clearly perceive it as reality. The trees were bulky and tall, with branches clothed with a plethora of colorful leaves and flowers.

Peaceful little critters were littered around the dirt path, going about their lives in utmost bliss. Squirrels plucked ripe nuts and fruits off the branches when he turned left, the birds high above the tree tops chirp an alluring melody as they flew past, and to his right was a vast green meadow blanketed of enchantingly exotic bed of fauna and flowers.

A big pond lay at the center where a herd of deer were drinking water from. Hector couldn't be able to absorb this beautiful scenery for long, as the wound was finally grown too strong for him to move about. He finally collapsed with his back against a nearby tree as his fate was set in stone.

This is it, Hector thought to himself. This is how I die, alone and from a bloody wound on my stomach that won't stop bleeding. It's just so pathetic but... Hector took one more look at his surroundings. This... This doesn't seem like a bad place to take a final rest on...

A little fawn galloped up to him and offered to lick his bloodied hand. After it licked his hand clean, the fawn trotted away, seemingly leaving Hector to slowly die in the midst of this surreal land.

"Hello?" After what felt like a cold pitch-black slumber, Hector was jolted awake to the distant yet gentle voice of a woman from afar. "Is someone there?"

He slowly opened his eyes, to meet the tiny rays of sunshine spilling through the trees above him. His body was frozen like a log, his muscles ached as he attempted to move any of his limbs. He yelped from the pain, enough to summon a woman slipping through the trees.

As Hector's eyesight was still a hazy blur, he couldn't make out the image of the woman right in front of him. But her slim complexion, a flowing cloak trailing behind her dark cloak, reminded him a lot of someone.

"... Lenore?" He murmured, but his guess could not be more wrong.

Now the woman was right next to him and the details couldn't be any more clearer and be different from his old flame. Her body was covered in a deep blue cloak, with curly locks of pale gold hair escaping the long hood over their face. Guiding her in the front was the same fawn as before; perhaps it guided her back to him.

She quite slowly touched his bloody torso with her pale hand; it was warm and soft, but the touch itself was to make Hector wince from the pain of his wounds. The woman was startled by his sudden reaction, but immediately brushed it aside.

"Forgive me," she whispered. Her voice might as well what angels might've sounded like, Hector mused. "Hold still," she said again.

The woman touched his chest again, but Hector tried to swallow the pain. She planted her fingers firmly at the skin, her touches were slim but tender, as light as a lovely pillow.

Hector should've been cautious of this woman, maybe even try to brush her off him. But it wasn't his wounds that tempered his hand. It was something else, an aura emanating in this woman, he couldn't see it but he could feel himself being more calm and safe in her presence.

The witch began to utter a prayer, though Hector couldn't quite make out what it was she was saying. As she recited those sacred words, her hand started to glow a bright green light. Hector watched in both horror and intrigue as his wounds slowly began to sew itself shut until it became a faint scar, only for the scar itself to disappear into his skin as if a dagger wasn't lodged in there just moments ago.

She then removed her hood and it was enough to make Hector gasp inaudibly. While her hair flowed down to her chest with flower petals adorning her top, her face from the forehead to the eyes was marred with nasty scars and burn marks. And her eyes themselves, a ghostly white, saw deeply into the distance and nowhere else.

Even in his years as a Forgemaster, there was no explanation for this kind of magic. For the first time in a long while, Hector was deathly afraid of this certain witch. Then again, she seemed to have no ill intent as the spell she cast on his wound completely healed it from the Pirate's grievous attack.

"Thank you..." Hector hoarsely told her. "Thank you but... who are you?"

Before the witch could answer his question, another woman burst out of the shrubbery. This one is a beautiful maiden around Hector's age, with hair of pale gold tied to a white ribbon behind her.

From the face and the color of her hair alone, the other witch looked inconspicuously identical to the witch that healed him, so much so that it wouldn't be impractical for Hector to see that they were twins.

"Rosalie? There you are!" The other witch called out as soon as she caught sight of her sister, only for her worried demeanor to fester even further upon laying her eyes on Hector. "You shouldn't be wandering out of the cottage like that!"

"Forgive me, Julia. It's just that this little fawn spoke to me and guided me to this stranger in need of my help." Without looking, the blind witch pointed directly at Hector.

Her cold purple eyes pierced through his soul when she stared at him, as if it was a wild mutt. "Who is that man, and how did he get through the barrier?"

"We mustn't ask any more questions, for he is horribly wounded." Rosalie, as she was called, told her while she tended to the rest of Hector's wounds. "I managed to heal him for now, but his wounds are far too great and too many. We have to bring him back to the cottage, Julia."

"Not a chance," Julia sternly replied. "I sense the traces of dark magic flowing in his veins. Regardless of his injuries, he might be carrying a terrible omen into our home with his mere presence alone."

"But we can't just leave him here!" Rosalie told her sister. "Just from sensing these wounds, he must've through a lot of harsh tribulations just to make it here. Surely a good night's rest in the cottage wouldn't harm anyone now, would it?"

As skeptical as she appeared to be, Julia can't seem to argue with Rosalie any further. "Fine," she sighed in defeat. "He can recuperate in the cottage, but I'll have to ask him some important questions when he can finally stand up."

Julia snapped her fingers, and Hector felt himself being lifted up from the ground by a pair of strong hands. Only that he can't see these hands, his body was actually floating in the air. Julia marched on first, as Rosalie kept her hand on Hector's.

"You're going to be just fine, mister..." Rosalie reassured him before stalling at not knowing his name. "Oh, dear me! I haven't gotten your name yet. My name is Rosalie, and that was my sister Julia. And you are?"

Hector's mind was still dizzy and spinning like crazy, as the weight and the trauma he endured from the recent events took a toll on him. But a simple gaze into her foggy-looking yet dreamy eyes somehow made him feel calmer and more relaxed for the first time in three years.

Just before he drifted off into what would be a long sleep, he whispered into her ear his answer. "Hector... My name is Hector..."