I closed my eyes a moment to deal with the latest wave of pain. "Did-did she say anything about me?"

"No. She said the name Sergei a few times, but we don't know who he is. No one here is called that."

Another wave. Worse than before.

I mastered it after a time, but knew I would have to leave soon before the real reaction took me.

But I would not leave alone.

No one made a single protest as I gathered her limp form to my breast and carried her out into the night.

I inhaled as I walked steadily from the village, scenting a charnel house taint to the air. It seemed to grow thicker, more noxious the farther I went, but breathing was not a necessity for me any more. I pressed on, holding her gently in my arms.

High above, black clouds began to gather, roiling and restless as if in response to my inner torment. They blotted out the dying moon, erased the stars. None of their light reached the ground, but I continued regardless, unimpeded by such mundane limits. I walked on, climbing, taking a thin path up the mountain that towered over the village, perhaps the same one used by the lads to bring back ice for her.

All for naught.

Though the storm above kept building, no wind touched us. Here below was silence. When I paused once to look back, I saw why.

Mist. Thick, featureless and altogether unnatural. It was also climbing up the mountain, gradually, but would soon overtake us.

I hurried forward, upward, until my arms and legs burned with the constant effort of it.

The air began to change. The death stench started to clear away, replaced by the clean smell of mountain air and snow. Wind touched my face, plucking at my cloak and the trailing hem of her night dress.

Faster, higher until I had to make my own path up the rocky face.

Snow, first a thin dusting, then more and more until it was nearly to my knees. I would not let it slow me and fought its clinging grip.

I was blind to ail things. My feet chose their own path. Breath sawed in and out of my lungs, not from any exertion but from my effort not to weep. I had shed too many tears already. No more, no more ever again.

Then I came to a place where I could climb no farther. It looked like a great knife had sheered away this part of the mountain, leaving it exposed to all the harsh elements. Around us the growing storm whipped up snow devils that spun and crashed against the rocks to be born anew in a fresh gust of wind. We were nowhere near the summit, but high enough for me. I stood at the cliff edge looking out into the thick Mists below.

The valley here was completely engulfed by their pale touch. All was as calm below as the heavens were riot above. Tatyana and I were exactly between their forces.

Lightning streaked the sky. The shifting light seemed to animate her face, make her appear alive again. It was but a cruel mockery, and I could hold my sorrow in no longer.

My voice echoed off the cold stones as I shrieked my anguish to the wild skies. I screamed and howled like an animal, wordless roars of pure grief as the reaction overwhelmed me. This was what I could not reveal to the village. My sorrows were my own and with me would stay until I could somehow find a way to end them.

When the last cry shuddered out of me, I looked into the rising Mists. They were coming for her, as they had done before. We had not much time left. I kissed Tatyana's chill lips, then eased her down until her feet dragged upon the ground, and I supported her weight with an arm around her waist.

We would not wait for the Mists to come, but hurry to meet them and hopefully the final oblivion.

Whatever is out there that hears, grant me this death!

I leaped for both of us, launching as far out from the cliff as I could.

Rush of wind.

Pale gray nothingness enveloped everything.

We turned and tumbled. I held fast to her, praying to I knew not what for swift obliteration and its peace. I ceased to know up from down with my eyes, could only sense it by our fall. Any second and all would be finished.

For both. Please, let it be for us both.

But even as I held to her she began to drift away. I closed my arms more tightly, but it was like trying to embrace the Mists themselves. All sensation of touching her fled from my reaching fingers.

Obliteration. Peace.

It seemed to come. For an instant.

As the last of her faded from me I seemed to fade from myself. My body seemed to dissolve away, as did hers. No harsh impact with the sudden ground to blot me out, just an easing into a soft cocoon of unconcern, not unlike my daylight trances.

As with all illusions of contentment it could not last, and I eventually, with the greatest reluctance, woke from it.

The stars were visible, bright hard points piercing the clear mountain air, unwinking and merciless. I lay sprawled on my back staring at them for a very long time, not daring to think, for then would come memory and with memory would return thoughts of her. I was not ready for that yet.

The mountain's sheer face loomed high over me, snow dusting its stony shoulders, the soft shadows of thick fir trees at its feet. I was on a clear patch of soft, loamy ground surrounded by more trees.

Gone was all evidence of the storm above and the Mists below. Gone was the dying moon. It had changed to a new one while I had been… wherever I had been. Certainly not lying in the open for a week so the morning sun could burn me to nothing. The Mists-Death's tool-must have prevented that. It was the likely explanation for how I could still be alive. There might be others that I was yet unaware of; whatever had saved me from my folly would certainly be ever shy about revealing itself. To do so might grant me the chance to actually fight back.

Gone also was all trace of Tatyana.

I still lived-if one could call it that-could still grieve, and despite the horrific fall, my body was quite well and whole. The dark forces to which I had sold myself nearly a century past would not allow anything so simple as physical pain to distract me from the unbearable ache within my heart. As for death… well, that was the First thing that had been taken away, trapping me here forever.

I, Strahd von Zarovich, the great lord of Barovia, was also its prisoner.

After much procrastination, I finally got to my feet and began walking away from the village toward Castle Ravenloft. The burdens of the present, of what had gone wrong and how to avoid the same errors in the future, I would only consider much later in the sanctuary of my study with the soothing company of my books about me and Tatyana's portrait to look upon. She would come again, I was sure. My studies in the Art were such that I understood there were always patterns to events and this one would repeat itself… must repeat itself.

A turn to the south and I was nearing the meager line that was the road. It was overgrown with grass in some places for lack of regular use. People tended to keep to their own villages and towns or places of shelter that could be reached within a day's walking or riding. I was the sole exception to that rule.

From the position of the moon and stars I had many hours of travel ahead before the dawn. True, I could have taken to the air and on swift wings flown straight to my castle in a fraction of the time, but I wanted to hold to my man's form and walk. I was in no particular hurry, and held the hope that the physical effort might numb me from thinking too much on recent events.

I also hungered.

I had supped lightly during my time in the village, taking pains not to kill anyone while Lord Vasili was a guest, keeping my normal hunting activities as unobtrusive as possible lest it indirectly invite some fool to harm Tatyana, as had happened before. But I had not fed deeply in a very long time and the constant raw ache of it had to be eased-and soon.