However, my fright was useless. Not even a single finger touched me, nor hurt me. I have heard that our finder took his breath in a strange, tearing way, like he had been weeping, too. I gained a little bravery and had a look up on him.

 Broken, painfully grin with his eyes tightly closed, dirty and bloodstained face, getting clearer by the rolling, bitter teardrops of torment. I have never seen this face like this, never to cry, to sob, neither to suffer. It had been care-worn, sad, laughing, smiling, serious, happily grinning, but like this, never.

 My throat was dry as a desert, my voice was shaking from fear, even though I gave a voice, stretching my tiny hands towards the man, asking him to lift me up,  out of the wardrobe. I wanted him to take me and my brother away as far as, and as soon as he could.

 - Father!

 - Darling – he said fast, lifting his teary eyes upon me-! Shall not any bad things have happened to you! What about Lucas?

 - Dad, dad!

 I was sobbing so hard, I could not say else, only this word. My father lifted me, then the still sleeping Lucas out of the wardrobe, with his strong, but now shaking arms. He held us tight. I could feel all that pain, suffer, and impotent rage that he felt, within his embrace.

 - Father – I said forceless, silently.

 - My dear! It is alright. I will take you away from here, right now.

 - But mother! Mother – I tried to point at the other part of the room, but father turned in a way that I couldn’t see there, whilst he went out of the room-! Don’t leave her here!

 - Mother cannot come with us now.

 - There’s mommy! Don’t leave her here, father! Please, dad!

 - Leave her. She is sleeping now. She had fallen asleep, we shall not wake her up.

 - No, mother is not sleeping! I know. I saw what those strangers did to her!

 Suddenly my fathers eyes opened wide, glanced at me startled, then raised his head and hurtled out of the castle. As he was almost running, I hung myself around his neck. Salty tears washed my face, but they weren’t mine. My tears were already dried up and petered. I couldn’t cry, as I was too exhausted for it. The drops came from upwards, from the eyes of my father. They rolled down on his cheeks, then fell from his chin, a few of them landing on my face.

 Since that, only a few, shredded memories left from that day, as I nodded off  almost every second from the exhaust and from the shock of that day. hardly do I remember of which of these shreds were real and which were only my dream.

 She wakes up wheezing, totally sweated, with crumpled sheets. Her pillow is on the ground, her blanket is halfway there, too. With a sudden movement she sits up and pushes her hand under the blanket. Her palm reaches a colt, solid thing: a hilt. She pulls it out and examines it, as the rising suns first rays glimmer back from the silver coated, perfect steel blade.

 Since that day she felt at all bedtimes that she’s not safe. For a long time, she and her brother spent the night int he same bed, so that they could fall asleep, but as the time passed by, it was less and less bearable that they shared their bed. Since then, she can only have a good nights sleep with her sword.

 She is horrified that one night she will be attacked, and will not have time for self-defense, and search for a weapon. We never know what the next moment is holding for us – said she constantly. In the battles she had learned it’s better to be afraid than to get surprised, so that she would like to be as prepared as it is possible for both good and bad.

 She has been isolated for years from people, in order not to love them, thinking that this way her opponents can’t hold her, using her beloved ones against her. But mostly, she was afraid if she let somebody close to herself, she could lose them anytime.

 She crawls out of bed, tossing the quiver put next to the bed, dumping all its content. She collects the arrows, then as she finished, pours water in the washbasin to refresh herself. Rapidly she cleans, then dresses up.

 Hunter’s pants and boots, simple, white shirt and a waistcoat. As usual. Under the armor it’s comfortable. Not like she would have such a big armor: only a few, but durable, strong shields and pads for the shoulders, arms and legs, and an easy breast plate. Just as the armor of her brother. Neither of them wears helmet.

 She takes a brush and while preparing, stares at her reflection in the mirror. It is incredible, how much we look alike, with my brother. Small wonder, we are twins. Black like raven, straight like the nail, our hair and green, like poison, our eyes are from our father, while our skin, white like snow, and our said-to-be beautiful faces are from our mother. But the attractive outside covers a not so pretty inside.

 Since their childhood, they study sword play, archery, hunting and other ways of hunting and killing. Not once they had been on patrol around the nearest woods and villages at night. They control and uproot the blood drinkers’ herds. Although, they are only fifteen, much blood stitches to their hands. Of course, they do not have any remorse, as this is the blood of killers, not innocents. They are the Van Helsings, who put up their lives to catch the evil vampires killing the innocent humans. The hunter clan with the longest, and once most famous history. One family, one destination.

 Just as she finishes dressing, somebody knocks on the door. It is Lucas, inviting her to breakfast. Before she leaves, she closes the door well, slipping the key in her secret pocket. Nothing does she leave for random.

 In the dining hall a deep, pushing silence rounds the entering people. The two youngsters greet their uncle, then take their seats next to the table. The food petered slowly and in great silence from the plates. Nobody said a single word, they didn’t even look at each other. They didn’t dare to. Not this morning. They felt, this is the morning of the farewell – perhaps the last time they have seen each other.

 Their parents’ assassin just got near, there was no time for hesitating. They are young, they are strong, and they have to take probably the greatest step in their lives, if they didn’t want to loose the chance forever, to take revenge.

 - My children…before you leave… I would like to say something. I know how strong your will is – like iron. I know I can’t convince you to stay. You are just like as my younger brother was.

 They stood up, and Richard waved for the children to follow him. They went straight to the East tower, into the uppermost room. To where until that, they were forbidden to enter. As the key turned in the lock, it was like when a lock falls from decades of secrecy. When they stepped in, the twins got amazed of what they have seen. Around there were different weapons: swords, daggers, spears, stabbing and cutting blades on the walls and shelves. In the middle a table stood amongst chairs, carved all with different patterns, and names. Whilst Lucas examined the weapons, his sister went around the table. Running her fingers on the backrests of the chairs, she was calling out names. On the main place she found the name Walter.

 - Walter? – she asked surprised.

 - Yes. Your father was the leader. These chairs here once all belonged to living people. Now only three have left, which can be occupied by their righteous owners. All the others have fallen in the continuous wars.

 - But why our father was the leader?

 - Because I haven’t felt myself strong enough. He was always more confident. Like you. And back then…at that time… I lost my wife. I was broken. I wouldn’t have been able to protect even my very own life, not to talk about the life of the ones who had put it in my hands. That is why I had asked your father to take over me. The others all agreed, even supported me.

 As she touched her father’s chair, a pleasant tingling ran through her body, like a soft embrace. Walter…my father…

 - As you see, there are some chairs with the same patterns. Their owners were from the same regions. The places of fathers, then their sons’.

 - But with our pattern, there are five chairs. Walter, Richard, Benjamin – she held a little break-…Lucas and mine. If I’m not wrong, as you said, Benjamin is your son. Right, Uncle Richard? But then were is he? What had happened to him?

 - That is why I called you here. Sit down, I will tell you now…