A soft gust of wind picked up throughout the grotto and tussled Noël’s hair before dying down just as quickly as it appeared.

Ignore the lies of the deceased, the cool ocean wind appeared to say.

Noël’s gaze trails back to the mirror, only to discover an absence of sad, purple eyes.

Do you mean to ignore them, or…?

Shaking his head, the vampire threw the mirror onto the ground.

The mirror’s impact was met with its complete and utter destruction. The shattered remains of the mirror broke off into sharp, fragmented, jagged shards. Only its ornate green frame remained in one piece—lightly scratched, but still just as beautiful.

Filled with a completely misplaced resolve, or perhaps, a desire to leave the grotto and continue on with his [after]life, Noël opened his spell book once more.

Deciding on a particular spell called, ‘A Testament to Good Will,’ despite his…lack of knowledge in its intended effects, Noël recited the incantation.

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We were once immortal, as tall and resilient as a tree.

Our lights burned as bright as a candle, but we, too, had been snuffed out.

Bones as white as snow can be found within graveyards, rivers, and streams.

My voice can lead you to salvation, or damnation…

But, with your cursed song, perhaps you will wander off and find a light.

Rest well, and may you find where you are meant to be.

Noël lightly shuts the journal. Muttering a short spell under his breath, the book regained its miniature size once more.

Thank you, Aunt Delia…the vampire said as he placed his beloved journal back into his coat pocket.

With the incantation now complete, a brilliant white light completely enveloped the grotto. His gaze fell upon the dozens of skeletons, all of whom were quelled into an eternal slumber as their bones withered away into dust.

It was an odd sentiment, but the sight reminded him of the cottage he once lived in with his Aunt. What, with her assortment of lifeless, grinning dolls, skins all leathery in texture…they were actually quite similar to that of this journal he inherited from her.

The chimes that hanged from their closed windows in that lonesome cottage were a similar shade and weight to the slowly disintegrating bones. There was something strangely comforting and yet, worrying, about the skeletons……

Though, as usual, Noël was quick to push such thoughts to the back of his head.

No use in worrying over something so trifling now.

He shivered as he felt eyes directed towards him. Tearing his gaze away from the skeletons, most of which disintegrated into ashen dust, he discovered the ghost child glaring at him from a distance.

Noël jumped back in surprise…he had momentarily forgotten about the ghost within all of this commotion.

Unlike the skeletons, the ghost had instead begun to fade away.

The spirit was only visible from the waist-up.

Narrowing his eyes at Noël, he uttered a single phrase. In disgust, the spirit stated that, ‘Noël is just like her’, before fading away completely.

The last of the bright, white glow that had enraptured the grotto faded out with the spirit……

Everything is cold, and quiet, and dark.

Now alone, Noël stands in the dark. He is surrounded by the remains of the deceased.

It is evening and everything is silent.