Van Helsing - Miles And Miles ... Now

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

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.

"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running." Van Helsing - Miles and Miles ...

Beside him, Carl—the friar whose nervous energy was the only thing keeping them awake—tripped over a jagged root. "Technically, Gabriel, it’s leagues. And if my map is even remotely accurate, which, given the cartographer was a madman in a dungeon, is a coin toss, we are still three days from the Borgo Pass."

"Is that... them?" Carl whispered, fumbling for a vial of holy water. Should we focus the next chapter on the

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.

Van Helsing stepped forward, his silhouette sharp against the rising moon. He didn't feel fear; he felt the familiar, cold weight of duty. The road was long, the journey was grueling, and the destination was usually a grave. But as the creature lunged, Gabriel met it mid-air, the silver flashing like a fallen star. The miles were behind him. The fight was now. It was layered—a discordant chorus of a dozen

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.