"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running."
The fog over the Transylvanian Alps didn't just hang; it clung, a heavy, wet shroud that tasted of pine resin and old iron. Gabriel Van Helsing adjusted the leather strap of his rotary crossbow, the gears clicking rhythmically against the silence of the pass. Van Helsing - Miles and Miles ...
"Miles and miles," he muttered, his voice a gravelly rasp. "It’s always miles and miles." "It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged
The distance between them and their quarry had shrunk from miles to yards in a heartbeat. From the tree line, a shape detached itself—a towering mass of elongated limbs and pale, translucent skin. It moved with a sickening fluidity, blurring the line between man and beast. "Miles and miles," he muttered, his voice a gravelly rasp
Should we focus the next chapter on the or follow their desperate escape through the pass?
"Is that... them?" Carl whispered, fumbling for a vial of holy water.
Van Helsing stepped forward, his silhouette sharp against the rising moon. He didn't feel fear; he felt the familiar, cold weight of duty. The road was long, the journey was grueling, and the destination was usually a grave. But as the creature lunged, Gabriel met it mid-air, the silver flashing like a fallen star. The miles were behind him. The fight was now.
"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running."
The fog over the Transylvanian Alps didn't just hang; it clung, a heavy, wet shroud that tasted of pine resin and old iron. Gabriel Van Helsing adjusted the leather strap of his rotary crossbow, the gears clicking rhythmically against the silence of the pass.
"Miles and miles," he muttered, his voice a gravelly rasp. "It’s always miles and miles."
The distance between them and their quarry had shrunk from miles to yards in a heartbeat. From the tree line, a shape detached itself—a towering mass of elongated limbs and pale, translucent skin. It moved with a sickening fluidity, blurring the line between man and beast.
Should we focus the next chapter on the or follow their desperate escape through the pass?
"Is that... them?" Carl whispered, fumbling for a vial of holy water.
Van Helsing stepped forward, his silhouette sharp against the rising moon. He didn't feel fear; he felt the familiar, cold weight of duty. The road was long, the journey was grueling, and the destination was usually a grave. But as the creature lunged, Gabriel met it mid-air, the silver flashing like a fallen star. The miles were behind him. The fight was now.