Van Helsing - Miles And Miles ... | Reliable

They had been tracking the shadow for weeks—a trail of exsanguinated livestock and villages silenced by a terror that left no tracks. This wasn't Dracula; this was something more feral, a remnant of the Old World that even the Order of St. Dumas whispered about in hushed tones.

"Is that... them?" Carl whispered, fumbling for a vial of holy water.

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. Van Helsing - Miles and Miles ...

Should we focus the next chapter on the or follow their desperate escape through the pass?

"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running." They had been tracking the shadow for weeks—a

"Miles and miles," he muttered, his voice a gravelly rasp. "It’s always miles and miles."

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. "Is that

As the sun dipped behind the peaks, bleeding a bruised purple across the sky, a howl ripped through the air. It wasn't the clean, sharp cry of a wolf. It was layered—a discordant chorus of a dozen voices trapped in one throat.