Fog fills the air around me, and the bitter smell of burning prey fills my nose. I try not to make a sound as I make my way to the dark leaning tower ahead.

The wind whispers with an evil sound, and the world rumbles at my feet. I try to stay upright, and continue on my way, but I can barely keep my footing.

As quickly as it started, the rumbling stops and the ground goes still. I don’t move, trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. But it is all no use when I hear a grumbling voice from behind me.

“Oh, Kylie, did you really think you could just sneak into my tower like that?” The voice says, “foolish, foolish girl.”

I turn around to see cloaked figure, the hood slightly slanted off his head, revealing fleshy skin and beady black eyes. Red drips from the corner of his mouth like a nosebleed.

I want to scream, but my voice seems to have stopped working. He takes a step closer, reaching out his fleshy, thin hand, his bones showing under his thin skin, and his nails long and covered in dirt—_or blood_.

His hand touches my face, I expect to be a hard grip, but instead it is rather soft. “You are never going to find your friend, Clara, Kylie. Even if I do _let _you search inside, the tower is large with many rooms. You could never find where I am hiding her.”

“I will do anything if you let me have her back.” I plea, my voice beginning to work again. “She is more than just my _friend_.” I say my fingers clenching. “She is my little sister.”

He gives the closest thing to a sympathetic expression than the charred face of his could give—obviously fake. “Oh, and big sissy is going to go and make everything okay.”

“Please.” I beg again, my voice growing strained, but still determined. All the fear has left me, and is now replaced with desperation. “Let me sell my soul”

“I don’t want your soul.”

“Let me be your prisoner instead.”

“I don’t want an ugly thing like you ruining my decoration. There is a theme, you know,” he spreads out his hands, orchestrating his words. “I call it, ‘Death & Shit’.”

“Very creative.” I mumble, sarcastically. “What if I play one of your sick little games?”

He looks intrigued by this request, hope builds up in my stomach. _Maybe this will work. _

He places a bony finger on his chin, acting like he is thinking hard. But his eyes aren’t filled with thought. “Interesting, indeed. You stay and play, and than _possibly—_if you win—get your friend back.”

“Sister.” I correct. But I still have another question. “And what if I lose?”

“Then I keep you both here and torture you as long as my immortal heart desires.” He claps his hands together, excitedly.

“No!” I burst. “If I make this deal, you have to let her free even if I lose.” I gulp. “You can keep just me. I’ll do anything you want.”

My stomach turns at the small smirk that appears at the corners of his mouth at that statement. _I’ll do whatever you want_.

“Fine.” He agrees, after little thought. “Now follow me into my humble home. Oh, and make yourself comfortable, you might be here for centuries.”

I give a rough smile, but my stomach turns.

In my head that seems very likely.