In the spirit realm, Nancy's consciousness unfolded. The familiar, misty expanse of her ancestors' realm greeted her, but she did not linger. She pressed onward, through the golden gate that Eledumare had opened for her before. The void beyond was vast and cold, a sea of potentiality and memory.She focused her will, casting the name like a hook into the infinite dark: Alucard. Son of Dracula. Forerunner.She felt herself drawn toward a specific frequency, a place of profound darkness.A landscape formed around her spirit. She stood in a throne room carved from obsidian and bone. It was empty, but it thrummed with a recent, powerful presence. This was an echo of Alucard's sanctum, a place his soul had imprinted upon the spiritual plane."Show me," she whispered, her prayer a ripple in the stagnant air. "Eledumare, grant me sight. Show me the truth of this creature's intent."The vision sharpened. She saw not with her eyes, but with her spirit, perceiving the complex tapestry of Alucar

The sun rose, clear and cold, over Howling Peak. There was no fanfare to mark the grim pact they had made in the dead of night. The city awoke to the same sounds of industry and training, but for Adrian and his council, the air itself had changed. It was thick with the promise of blood and the scent of a predator they had just invited to their doorstep.The war council convened in the grand hall as the first rays of light streamed through the tall windows. The usual members were there, their faces set in grim lines, but a new presence sat at the table. Clara. She occupied a seat slightly apart from the others, a pale, silent statue. The werewolf guards stationed at the doors watched her with undisguised hostility, their low growls a constant, rumbling underscore to the proceedings.Adrian stood at the head of the table, a large map of the region spread out before them. "He agreed. His forces will be at the Shattered Glen by nightfall."A ripple of tension went through the room. Maria

The sun climbed higher, but a different kind of chill had settled over Howling Peak. It was the cold of fear, and it was spreading through the city faster than any plague.Adrian and Bella had barely passed back through the main gates when they felt it. The usual industrious clamor of the city was muted, replaced by hushed, frantic conversations that died the moment they were spotted. People looked up from their work not with hope, but with wide, uncertain eyes. The sight of their leader returning from a parley with the monsters in the hills had made the alliance terrifyingly real.The first incident happened at noon.A young werewolf volunteer, still struggling with the aggressive instincts of his new form, was on patrol near the granaries. A child, chasing a runaway ball, stumbled and scraped her knee, letting out a sharp cry. The volunteer, already on edge from the pervasive scent of vampires on the wind, spun around with a snarl, his claws extending. It was a reflexive, defensive

The shattering of the Paladin’s sword was the signal. The moment the blinding holy light died, Alucard, who still stood on the battlements as if he owned them, spoke a single, soft word that carried unnatural weight."Now."From the depths of the Shattered Glen, his army answered.It was not a charge. It was an eruption. A wave of shrieking nightwings blackened the sky, descending upon the War Acolytes. The aerial hymn became screams of terror and the wet tear of leathery wings. From the ground, the shadow-stalkers flowed, phasing through the Church's disoriented infantry lines to cripple and disrupt. And behind them came Kael and the vampires, a scythe of pale death hitting the Church's flanks.On the walls, the defenders watched, their own battle momentarily forgotten. The sheer, brutal efficiency was horrifying."Now!" Adrian roared, his voice snapping his soldiers from their stupor. "We push! All units, forward!"The gates of Howling Peak swung open. The werewolf army poured out,

“Is that all?”Alucard’s taunt hung in the air, a defiant challenge to the godly power arrayed against him. The silence that answered was brief, and far more terrifying than any roar.The single Inquisitor who had fired did not retreat. Instead, it tilted its featureless helm. Behind it, the other eleven blood-red figures stepped forward in perfect, unnerving unison. They formed a loose semicircle, and as one, they raised their hands.Twelve beams of unraveling light lanced out, converging on the space Alucard occupied. The air itself screamed.Alucard’s smug triumph vanished, replaced by a snarl of pure effort. He clapped his hands together, and the vortex of darkness erupted around him once more.The result was a cataclysm. Light and darkness collided with the sound of a dying star. The vortex held for a single, straining second, swallowing half the beams before it shattered like black glass.The remaining beams struck him.They did not pierce; they scoured. His roar of defiance bec