The car engine growled like a restless beast as Alice tore through the darkness of the night, leaving the city's dim lights behind. The winding road leading toward Romania was nearly deserted, illuminated only by headlights slicing through the thick fog. The silence of the journey was broken solely by the rain, which began to tap lightly against the windshield.
Alice kept her hands steady on the wheel, but her gaze reflected far more than focus. Inside her, hatred pulsed like an untamed fire. Every curve in the road reminded her of the vow she had made: to hunt the Council down to the last of them. But now there was something greater, an ancient, forbidden power hidden deep within the heart of Wallachia.
As she crossed borders and passed through sleeping villages, strange signs began to appear. A raven followed her, hopping from lamppost to lamppost, its eyes glowing like embers. At a gas station, the attendants stared at her in heavy silence, as if they knew exactly where she was headed but dared not speak it aloud. Even the wind itself seemed to whisper in a dead language.
The moment she entered Romanian territory, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew colder, the moon seemed larger, and dense forests cast shadows that appeared to move on their own. Alice pulled over briefly at a cliff overlooking the valleys below. The landscape was both beautiful and terrifying, mist-covered mountains, ancient crosses driven into the earth, and ruins standing defiantly against time.
It felt as though every stone, every tree, carried the weight of a blood-soaked history.
Alice exhaled deeply, closed her eyes for a moment, and whispered to herself,
"I'll go all the way."
Then she accelerated once more.
Flashback – The Sealing of Dracula
Centuries earlier, in the same land of Wallachia, the sky burned red like fire. Count Dracula had risen in his true form—a creature of shadow and absolute power, one that even entire armies could not restrain. His castle stood in flames, yet amid the chaos, he laughed, intoxicated by bloodshed.
That day, Teodor Van Helsing, a legendary hunter, heir to a lineage that had devoted centuries to battling darkness, advanced toward the monster. He was not alone. Dozens of hunters followed him, wielding sacred weapons: silver crosses, lances bathed in holy oil, and scrolls inscribed with ancient prayers.
The battle was apocalyptic. Dracula tore through soldiers like leaves in the wind, his overwhelming strength reducing warriors to shattered flesh. But Teodor did not retreat. Using blood seals, he summoned enchanted silver chains that pierced the vampire's flesh, binding his movements.
The Count roared, his power shaking the earth. He tried to dissolve into mist, but the seals blazed with golden light, preventing his escape.
"You cannot imprison me, Van Helsing!" Dracula thundered, his voice echoing like a storm.
"I am eternal!"
Teodor, wounded and drenched in blood, stepped closer, an ancient grimoire clutched in his hands. His eyes burned with resolve.
"And even the eternal can be condemned."
With his last strength, he recited the words of binding, a forgotten incantation, while driving a black stake, carved from the wood of a cursed tree, straight into the vampire's heart. The ground convulsed. Lightning split the sky.
Dracula was dragged into a crypt forged deep within the earth, magical chains sealing him inside a tomb of eternal torpor.
Before succumbing to his wounds, Teodor marked the site with protective sigils and shared its secret with only a chosen few.
"May he never awaken again…" were his final words.
Alice opened her eyes abruptly, pulled back into the present. For a brief moment, she thought she heard Dracula's laughter echoing through the mountains. Her blood ran cold, but her heart pounded faster.
The road was leading her to the tomb.
And there, everything would change.
The path narrowed and twisted, cutting through sleeping villages and fields forgotten by time. Alice's car pushed forward beneath a fog so dense it seemed the heavens themselves refused to allow intruders passage. With every mile, houses became rarer, replaced by moss-covered ruins and thick forests whose twisted trees stretched their branches like starving arms.
She drove in silence, listening only to the steady hum of the engine and the occasional cry of ravens stirring overhead. On the passenger seat lay Beth's notes, ancient maps, diary pages, and arcane symbols marking the path to the tomb. Every detail reinforced the sense that she was not merely traveling through space, but crossing a threshold between the present and a dormant past filled with echoes and curses.
Beth's words echoed in her mind:
"The mountains guard secrets that do not tolerate outsiders. Follow the old trails, even when they seem abandoned. When the wind changes, you'll know you're close."
Alice tightened her grip on the wheel as the cold inside the car intensified, as if the thinning air itself were a warning. The GPS had lost signal long ago; Beth's notes were now her only guide. Hours dragged on, and the darkness seemed to condense around her, turning the road into little more than an extension of the night's shadow.
Then, as she began climbing the mountain's first curves, she felt it.
The wind changed.
Sudden and powerful, like a deep breath rising from the earth's core, it tore across the car with a mournful wail. The headlights revealed a stone road etched with ancient markings, symbols Alice recognized from Beth's drawings.
Her heart raced. She was on the right path.
She stopped the car, turned off the engine, and stepped outside. The silence was crushing, broken only by the distant howl of a wolf. Above, the sky remained overcast, but fragments of the full moon slipped through the clouds, illuminating the slopes. The air tasted metallic, almost ferrous, as if the land itself were soaked in blood.
Alice inhaled deeply, tucked the papers into her coat, and began walking along the narrow stone path. Each step echoed unnaturally, and the sensation of being watched grew stronger.
The road was leading her not only toward a physical destination, but into the heart of a legend. The mountains of Wallachia closed in around her, and Alice knew, every step forward brought her closer to the place where Dracula's tomb lay sealed.
The tension thickened, carrying with it the unmistakable omen that something ancient was waiting… only to be awakened.