text: [Themes: teenage protagonist, mirrors, female protagonist]
  
  > look in the cavity
  I lie beside the hole in the floor and, with due prudence, put my hand into the darkness.
  
  I have to rely purely on my sense of touch to discern if there is anything of interest in the hole. For a few seconds all I am able to feel is the cold, wet density of damp stone and a soft breeze, but after a moment of maneouvering I brush against something rough and soft. Nervously I grab the object and begin to pull it towards me.
  
  As I do so I hear a tinkling noise. I pause as the sound moves away from me, but it is too late. I listen as something metallic slithers away, sounding like it's falling through a fissure below me. There is a further moment of silence before something clatters to the ground on the level below me. My imagination ponders the events that these sounds proclaim but I am not quite sure what to make of them. After this second of contemplation I continue my action and pull the object that I have grasped into the light.
  
  I climb onto my knees with my prize, which appears to be a grubby old rag. As I unfold it a roll of parchment falls to the floor in front of me; the sole inhabitant of the cloth. I toss the rag to one aside, as it appears to have had no other purpose than to serve as a container for the parchment. I wipe my hand across my tired eyes and consider my next decision.
  
  > read the parchment
  I pick up the parchment from the floor and begin to read...
  
  My Dearest Marika,
  
  Forgive me for the complicated path that you must have walked to obtain this letter. I had no other choice and knew that your resourcefulness would be equal to the task. The elders of the village know well your mother's views on the subject of The Count and feared that she might attempt to intervene in events. As a result they declared it a capital offence for anyone to try and aid you in your plight. I desired greatly to help you but was afraid that Bogdan would hold me to account and that I would be forced to pay the ultimate price for aiding you. Bogdan is a good man, but he fears the elders and he fears The Count even more. I left a message for you on the mirror and a clue under your pillow. I had to phrase the clue as though it were a simple farewell message that wouldn't incriminate me - just in case it were seen by someone other than you. Again, forgive me but I knew that you would be able to solve the puzzle. You are a remarkable girl. I will try and speak with you before I must leave and hope that Bogdan allows it.
  
  I pray that your mother is right; that The Count can be beaten but I do not know how. I have heard many amazing things about him. I have heard that he has the ability to turn into a bat as well as the capability to scale vertical surfaces.
  
  I am sorry that I did not have the chance to say farewell properly.
  To this end I wrote this letter and wrapped it in a rag with my silver crucifix. As you know, I hid the package under the loose flagstone and I hope that the crucifix will be of some comfort, if nothing else. I will be praying for you. Do not let my fear dampen your remarkable spirit.
  
  Enric.
  
  My head swims with the information. Enric! Of course! Only a guard would have the freedom to leave items for me in the tower. The message on the mirror was his doing, leading me to find the metal rod so that I could discover this letter under the flagstone. But Enric didn't only intend for me to find a letter. He made reference to his silver crucifix. It would be a helpful weapon in a fight against a vampyre, but it was not present with the parchment. I recall my actions as I discovered the letter and my imagination replays the sounds that I heard as I pulled the rag free from its prison. The metallic tinkling sound. The sound of something slithering away from me. My heart sinks as I piece everything together. Enric's silver crucifix must have fallen free of the rag as I moved it and dropped down a fissure in the stones to the stairwell below this room. It will do me little good down there. My one chance to turn the tables and I have lost it before I even knew what it was that I was losing!
  I scream in frustration and throw the letter to the ground. What hope do I have now?
  
  > Light parchment
  It suddenly occurs to me that the parchment could be very useful, just not in the way that was originally intended. I scoop the parchment from the floor and hold it over the candle on the shelf for a second. It catches and produces a reasonable flame. I then bend down and cast the burning parchment amongst the pyre that I have constructed in the fireplace.
  
  I pray for it to produce flames amongst the wood and, after what feels like an eternity, I am heartened to see that the wood is indeed burning. I linger for another anxious minute to ensure that the blaze will continue and before long I am coughing on a plume of smoke.
  
  I throw the candle onto the fire for the sake of it and rub my weeping eyes. I am feeling warmer already, and my body is driven even closer to the dangerous state of slumber.
  
  My body aches with weariness. I don't think that I can resist sleep for much longer!
  
  > put the rag in the keyhole
  I remember a rumour that The Count possesses the ability to change his shape. The keyhole in the door is sizeable, possibly big enough to allow him entry through it.
  
  With this in mind I scoop up the rag that I retrieved from under the floor and move purposely over to the door. Using all my strength I cram the rag into the keyhole until I am sure that it will no easy task to remove it. I can only pray that The Count will not be resourceful enough or strong enough to excavate it.
  
  > look at the candle
  The candle has long been consumed by the flames.
  
  > put the flagstone on the hole
  Grabbing the corners of the stone and heaving mightily I manage to return it to the hole in the floor. It crashes back to its original place with a satisfying crack. For some reason performing this action settles an unease that I had in my spirit.
  
  > examine the walls
  I run my hands along the wall, mesmorised by the sensation of the rough hewn stone under my fingertips. They are uneven and crude, and the mortar between them flakes under my touch. Despite this each single stone I examine seems to be fixed firmly in place.
  
  The floor is a different matter, constructed from evenly cut and shaped flagstones that bear further examination.
  
  > examine the rod
  The metal rod is fairly thin and tapers into a flat end at one tip.
  It is surprisingly light and clatters on the stones as I roll it over. I believe it to be made of iron and it seems to be fairly strong. I'm sure that it could serve a useful purpose in my quest to secure the room.
  
  > examine the ceiling
  I look to the heavens and see nothing but rock. The symbolic thought makes me wonder if even God has abandoned me.
  
  > Pray
  Feeling lost and without hope I throw myself to my knees and begin to pour out my heart to God. I have not been praying for more than a minute when I suddenly get the sense that I am not alone.
  
  I look around the room and see nothing, but get the feeling that I am not facing this challenge by myself. With renewed faith I stand again and begin to think about how to survive this night.
  
  I am feeling dizzy and weak. My body is giving in to the demand for rest. I have just enough time and strength to drag myself over to the bed and collapse on it before the darkness overcomes me...