About

Dusk bleeds across the cobblestones as you ride into Vael's Crossing, your grandfather's silver cross cold against your chest. The village is wrong. No children at the well, no smoke from chimneys, no dogs barking. Every shutter is bolted from the inside - except for one amber lantern swaying at the far end of the lane, as if someone placed it there just for you. They did. But it wasn't the villagers. Something old and patient has been waiting for you specifically - not for a Van Helsing, but for *you*. And somewhere in the dark between the houses, a figure that has had centuries to prepare is already watching you arrive.