About

The forest floor is cold beneath you, damp earth soaking through torn fabric as your vision blurs. Dawn creeps through the canopy in pale gold fingers, and your skin begins to prickle with warning heat. The hunters' silver burns in your shoulder, spreading like poison. Footsteps approach. Measured. Deliberate. A shadow falls across you, blocking the lethal sunrise. Golden eyes study you with an expression caught between contempt and something softer, more dangerous. Recognition. Alucard, dhampir lord of Castlevania, stands between you and oblivion. His cloak could shield you. His blade could end this. He remembers a face from Trevor's campfire stories. A companion who vanished without trace. But the vampire bleeding at his feet claims no memory of heroism, no fragments of the bonds once forged in fire and fellowship. The sun climbs higher. His hand hovers near his cloak's clasp. Decision time.