PROLOGUE
The Horror in the Neonatal Ward

The night shift was always the hardest. Not because of the work—the work in this department was usually quiet. No, it was the silence that made Petra Meyer uneasy. That absolute silence that exists only in hospitals at three o’clock in the morning, when the world seems to hold its breath and even the city outside appears to be asleep.

Petra walked down the corridor of the neonatal ward at the Klinikum rechts der Isar, her rubber soles squeaking softly on the freshly mopped linoleum. The neon light hummed above her, a monotonous buzz she barely noticed anymore after fifteen years on the job. In her hand, she held her clipboard with the checklists. Everything was as usual. Vital signs stable. Temperature constant. Eight newborns, all sleeping peacefully.

She glanced through the window of the nursery. The small cribs stood in two neat rows, each with its name tag. The monitors displayed reassuring green lines—heartbeat, breathing, everything normal.

Petra smiled. This was her favorite part of the job. These tiny beings, so new to the world, so fragile. Protecting them while their parents slept at home, exhausted from the birth and the first exhausting days. It was a responsibility she took seriously.

She walked on to the break room to reheat her coffee. The microwave hummed, and Petra stared absently at the rotating cup. Four more hours until the shift change. Four more hours, and then the morning nurse would take over, and Petra could go home—to her own little son, who had just turned three.

The microwave beeped. Petra took the cup, blew on the steaming coffee, and—

A sound.

Barely perceptible, but there. A faint creak, like a window being opened.

Petra frowned. All the windows on this ward were locked; she had checked them herself. That was protocol. Infants were sensitive to drafts, to temperature fluctuations. And the security rules were strict—all windows had to be locked at night.

She set the coffee down and went back into the corridor. Everything was still. No movement. Maybe she had imagined the sound. Fatigue after a long shift could play tricks on you.

But then she saw it.

At the end of the corridor, near the nursery. The window was ajar. Not wide open, maybe ten centimeters. But definitely open.

A cold draft swept through the hallway.

Petra quickened her pace, her heart suddenly racing. That was impossible. She had personally checked every window less than an hour ago. Every single one.

She reached the window, pushed it shut, locked it with trembling fingers. Outside, Munich lay in darkness, only a few streetlights casting weak pools of light onto empty streets. The hospital courtyard below was deserted.

Petra took a deep breath. Maybe the cleaning staff had left it open. Yes, that had to be it. A simple mistake.

She turned toward the nursery. Through the glass window she could see the cribs, the small figures beneath their blankets. Everything seemed fine.

But when she opened the door and stepped inside, she felt it.

The temperature was different. Colder. As if someone had opened a refrigerator.

And there was something else. A smell. Faint, but unmistakable. Metallic. Like copper. Like—

Blood.

Petra’s breathing quickened. She moved from crib to crib, checking each baby. All were sleeping. All were breathing calmly. Normal little breaths, chests rising and falling in the rhythm of life.

But at the seventh crib, she stopped.

Lukas Berger. Born four days ago. A healthy boy, 3,200 grams, no complications.

He was sleeping, just like the others. But his face was turned upward, and on the left side of his neck were two small red dots.

Petra leaned closer. Her heart was pounding so loudly she thought it might wake the babies.

The marks were fresh. Tiny, no bigger than pinpricks. But clearly visible. And around them, on the delicate baby skin, a faint redness.

“What the hell…” Petra whispered.

She reached for the emergency call button and pressed it. Her gaze flicked back to the window. Had there been a movement? A shadow detaching itself from the window frame?

No. That couldn’t be. They were on the fourth floor.

The door flew open. Dr. Mehmet Yildiz, the physician on duty, rushed in.

“What’s going on? The alarm—”

“The baby,” Petra said, pointing at Lukas. Her voice trembled. “Look at his neck.”

Dr. Yildiz stepped closer and pulled out a small flashlight. He examined the marks, frowning.

“Looks like insect bites,” he said finally. “Two mosquito bites, maybe?”

“In November? On the fourth floor? With the windows locked?” Petra’s voice sharpened. “Doctor, the window was open. I know I had closed it, but it was open.”

Dr. Yildiz looked at her, then back at the baby. He gently palpated the area. Lukas didn’t stir, sleeping deeply.

“The skin isn’t warm. No swelling. No fever.” He took his stethoscope and listened to the heart. “Heartbeat normal. Breathing normal.” He looked at Petra. “It doesn’t look like anything serious. The baby probably scratched himself, or it really was an insect that somehow—”

“That wasn’t an insect,” Petra interrupted. “And the baby didn’t scratch himself. He’s wearing mittens.”

Dr. Yildiz was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “What do you think it was, then?”

Petra opened her mouth, then closed it again. What was she supposed to say? That she had found a window open on the fourth floor? That the air smelled like blood? That she felt watched?

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “But I want this documented. And I want the parents informed in the morning.”

“Of course.” Dr. Yildiz made notes. “I’ll add it to the chart. Two superficial skin lesions, cause unclear. We’ll observe the baby overnight. If anything changes, call me immediately.”

He left the room, and Petra was left alone with the sleeping infants.

She went back to the window and checked it again. Tightly locked. But as she looked out into the darkness, she saw him.

Only for a moment. Just a heartbeat.

A figure. On the roof of the opposite building. Too far away to make out details. But it stood there, motionless, staring back at her.

Petra blinked.

The figure was gone.

She stepped away from the window, her hands trembling. That had been nothing. Shadows. Fatigue playing tricks on her mind. It had to be.

But for the rest of the night, she stayed in the nursery. Sat on a chair beside Lukas’s crib. Watched the baby. Watched the window.

And tried to convince herself that everything was fine.

---

The next morning, when Anna and Michael Berger came to visit their son, Dr. Yildiz told them about the “insect bites.” Nothing serious, he assured them. Just a small irregularity. The baby was completely healthy; all examinations were normal.

Anna took Lukas in her arms and pressed him to her chest. “My poor little one,” she murmured, kissing his forehead.

She didn’t notice that his body was cooler than usual. Not by much—just a little. Barely perceptible.

And she didn’t notice how his tiny eyes, when he briefly woke and looked at her, had a reddish shimmer for a moment. Just a moment, then they were their normal brown again.

Michael signed the discharge papers. They packed their things, placed Lukas into the baby carrier, and drove home.

To their beautiful apartment in Schwabing, with the nursery they had so lovingly prepared. With the mobile above the crib, casting little stars onto the ceiling.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was normal.

But that night, when Anna tried to breastfeed Lukas, he refused the breast. For the first time. He turned his head away and began to cry. A high, piercing cry that wouldn’t stop.

And when Anna, desperate and exhausted, prepared a bottle of formula, he drank greedily. But the next day, he refused the bottle as well.

“It’s just a phase,” the pediatrician said. Babies could be difficult sometimes. It would pass.

But it didn’t pass.

And with each day, Lukas grew paler.

With each day, he slept more during the day and was wide awake at night.

And with each day, the two small marks on his neck grew darker. Not larger. But deeper.

As if they weren’t wounds.

But scars.

Scars of something that would return.

---

Far away from the Bergers’ apartment, in the ancient catacombs beneath Munich’s city center, a figure opened its eyes. Red eyes, glowing in the darkness.

It smiled.

“It is done,” it whispered into the silence. “The child is marked. The seed has been planted.”

Another voice answered from the darkness. Old. Female. Powerful.

“Good. When the time is ripe, we will bring it to us. A child of the night. An innocent vessel. Perfect for our purposes.”

“And if they try to take it back?”

A laugh, cold as ice.

“Then they will fail. Like all before them.”

The figure rose and moved through the winding tunnels, deeper beneath the city. To a chamber where others were waiting. Dozens of them. All with red eyes. All hungry.

The gathering had begun.

And Munich, unaware, slept above it.

---

End of the Prologue

---

In three weeks, Erik Schönwaldt would receive the call.

In three weeks, the hunt would begin.

But this night belonged to the shadows.

And the shadows were hungry.

CHAPTER 1

The Invitation

Erik Schönwaldt woke at 3:47 a.m. Drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

The dream had come again. Always the same. Always Clara.

She stood over the burning body of the vampire, a torch in her hand. But in his dreams she didn’t turn toward him with that look of release. Instead, she opened her mouth and screamed—a scream that never ended. And the vampire rose again, burned and mutilated, dragging her down into the flames. Again and again. Every night.

Erik sat up and rubbed his face. His apartment was dark; only the faint glow of the streetlights outside filtered through the half-open blinds. The digital clock on his nightstand blinked reproachfully: 03:47. 03:47. 03:47.

Three weeks. Three weeks since Castle Falkenstein. Three weeks since he had watched Clara die. Since he had watched his great-grandparents die. Since he had killed the vampire.

Or had Clara killed it? Erik was no longer sure. The memories blurred, merging into a nightmare of fire and blood and ash.

He got up and went into the kitchen. The linoleum was cold beneath his bare feet. He didn’t turn on the light. Somehow the darkness felt more familiar now. Safer.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Erik opened the refrigerator; the light briefly blinded him. He took out a bottle of water and drank deeply. The water was ice-cold, almost painful. But the pain was good. It distracted him.

The box lay on the kitchen table.

Erik stared at it. For three weeks it had stood there, unopened yet omnipresent. Inside were the remnants of his journey into the darkness. Elise’s letters. The photograph of his great-grandparents in front of the castle. The iron key engraved with the words “West Wing.” A fragment of Clara’s diary he had found in the hall before they left the castle. The small wooden figurine Mr. Bachmann had given him.

Evidence. Memories. Warnings.

Erik had tried to forget them. Had tried to return to his old life. He had gone back to work, tried going out with friends, tried to pretend that nothing had happened.

But the world looked different now.

He saw shadows where there had been none before. He heard things in the silence that shouldn’t have been there. And sometimes, when he walked through the streets, he felt it—a presence, something old, something hungry, lurking in the corners of civilization.

His therapist—yes, he had a therapist now—called it post-traumatic stress disorder. She said the events at his grandmother’s house, the fire, the deaths, had traumatized him. That was normal. It would pass.

But Erik hadn’t told her the truth. He couldn’t. How do you tell someone about vampires? About servants who were a hundred years old? About a castle that didn’t exist on any map?

They would think he was insane. Maybe he was.

But then he looked at the box again, at the evidence, and he knew: it had been real. All of it.

Erik went back to the bedroom, knowing he wouldn’t sleep again. He pulled on a sweater, sat down at his desk, and opened his laptop.

That was the other thing that had changed: the news. Erik used to ignore the news, too busy with his own life. Now he read it daily. Hourly. Looking for patterns. For clues.

For signs.

He scrolled through the online edition of the Süddeutsche Zeitung. One article caught his eye:

Mysterious Deaths on the Rise in Munich

In the past three weeks, five young people have been found dead in Munich, all showing similar symptoms: severe anemia, pale skin, and unexplained wounds on the neck. Authorities are assuming a previously unknown viral infection…

Erik read the article twice. Then a third time.

Five dead. Severe anemia. Wounds on the neck.

His heartbeat quickened.

No. That couldn’t be. The castle was hundreds of kilometers away. And the vampire was dead. Dead and burned to ash.

But what if there were more? What if the vampire of Castle Falkenstein hadn’t been the only one?

Erik stood up and began pacing the room, his thoughts racing.

He remembered the vampire’s words shortly before it died: “You could have been immortal…”

And something Clara had once said, in a lucid moment before the bond pulled her back: “There are more. Many more. In the cities, in the shadows. They hide. They hunt.”

Erik had thought it was delirium. The desperation of a woman who knew she was going to die.

But what if it had been the truth?

He returned to the laptop and continued researching. Other cities, other incidents. Hamburg: three unexplained deaths in the past month. Berlin: a series of “drug-related deaths” with unusual symptoms. Cologne: a pattern of missing homeless people.

Everywhere the same signs. Anemia. Wounds. And authorities blaming illness, drugs, coincidence.

Because they didn’t want to see the truth.

Because they couldn’t believe what Erik now knew: the monsters were real.

He closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes. It was nearly five in the morning. In two hours he had to go to work—to his boring, safe, normal job at an insurance office.

But he wouldn’t be able to focus. He already knew that.

Erik went back to the kitchen and made himself a strong coffee. While the machine gurgled and hissed, he stood at the window and looked out at the awakening city.

Somewhere out there, in Munich, something was killing people. Something the world believed to be impossible.

But Erik knew better.

The question was: what was he going to do about it?

The coffee was ready. Erik poured it into a mug and took a sip. He burned his tongue and swore softly.

And then he saw it.

The letter.

It lay on the doormat, half pushed under the door. Erik was sure it hadn’t been there earlier. He had woken at three o’clock, had walked through the hallway. He would have seen it.

But there it was now.

A cream-colored envelope. No stamp. No return address. Only his name, written in an old-fashioned, flowing script:

Erik Schönwaldt

Erik set the coffee down and walked to the door. His heart began pounding again. Carefully, as if the letter might explode, he picked it up.

The paper felt heavy. Expensive. Old.

He turned the envelope over. On the back was a seal of dark red wax. Pressed into the wax was a symbol: an eye pierced by a sword.

Erik’s hands trembled slightly as he broke the seal.

Inside the envelope was a single card. Heavy, cream-colored paper with an embossed golden edge. The handwriting was the same as on the envelope:

Mr. Schönwaldt,

You have survived what most do not survive. You have seen what most will never see. You have fought the darkness and won—though at a cost.

There are others like you. People who know the truth. People who fight.

The incidents in Munich are no coincidence. They are not a virus. They are what you already suspect.

If you wish to learn more about what lurks in the darkness—and how to fight it—call this number:

089 / 555-0347

Come to Munich. Tomorrow, 2:00 p.m. Café Frischhut at the Viktualienmarkt.

Bring with you what you took from the castle. Especially the key.

We have been waiting for you.

— The Night Watch

Below it was the same symbol as on the seal: the eye with the sword.

Erik read the card three times. His mind struggled to process it. Someone knew about Castle Falkenstein. Someone knew he had been there. Someone knew about the key.

How was that possible?

And who were “the Night Watch”?

Erik went to the box and opened it for the first time in weeks. The smell of old paper and burned wood rose to meet him. He reached for the key and held it up to the light.

The iron key gleamed dully. The ornaments on its handle seemed to shimmer in the morning light, as if they were more than mere decoration. The small plaque read: West Wing.

Why did they want this key in particular?

Erik put the key back and picked up his phone. The number on the card stared at him. 089—Munich’s area code.

He could ignore it. He could throw the letter away, seal the box, and continue his life. Go to work, go to therapy, pretend everything was normal.

But there were those five dead in Munich. People no one had been able to save because no one knew what had really killed them.

And there were the faces of his great-grandparents, Elise and Friedrich, who had been trapped in that castle for a hundred years.

And Clara. Always Clara, who had sacrificed herself so that others could live.

Erik picked up his phone and typed in the number.

His fingers hovered over the green button.

If he called, there would be no turning back. He knew that instinctively. This was the moment his life would take a direction he could never abandon.

Erik thought of the article. Of the five dead. Of the families who had lost someone and would never know why.

He pressed the green button.

The ring tone. Once. Twice. Three times.

Then a voice. Female. Calm. With a slight accent Erik couldn’t place.

“Mr. Schönwaldt. We have been waiting for your call.”

Erik cleared his throat. “Who are you?”

“My name is Dr. Helena Konstantin. I lead an organization that deals with… unusual cases. Cases the authorities do not understand. Or do not wish to understand.”

“The Night Watch.”

“Correct.” A pause. “We have followed your story. Castle Falkenstein. The vampire. Your great-grandparents. What happened there.”

Erik’s grip on the phone tightened. “How do you know about that? The castle… the police couldn’t find it. They think I made it all up.”

“The police are searching with the wrong tools,” Helena said. “They look for things that exist on maps. In registries. But some places exist only… in between. In the cracks of reality most people ignore.”

“You sound insane.”

Helena laughed softly. “Many people say that, Mr. Schönwaldt. Until they experience it themselves.” Her voice grew serious. “But you have already experienced it. You know the darkness is real. That monsters exist. The question is: what will you do now?”

Erik was silent for a moment. Outside, the sun was rising, bathing the city in golden light. A new day. A normal day. For everyone else.

“The incidents in Munich,” he said at last. “Today’s article. That wasn’t a virus, was it?”

“No.”

“And you know what it is.”

“Yes.”

“What do you want from me?”

Helena exhaled. “Your help. We have resources, information, tools. But we need someone like you. Someone who can go into the field. Someone who can face the darkness.” A pause. “Someone who has already hunted—and survived.”

“I’m not a hunter,” Erik said. “I’m just… someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Are you?” Helena’s voice softened. “Or are you someone who made a choice? Who returned to the castle even though he could have fled? Who devised a plan and set a tower on fire to free innocents?”

Erik closed his eyes. Images flashed. The burning hall. Clara with the stake in her hand. His great-grandparents, hand in hand, walking back into the house to die.

“They had no choice left,” he whispered.

“But you did,” Helena replied. “And you made the right one.” A pause. “The people dying in Munich, Mr. Schönwaldt—they have no choice. They don’t even know what is hunting them. But you do. And you can do something about it.”

Erik opened his eyes. His gaze fell on the box. On the key. On the letters from his great-grandmother, written in desperation and hope.

“What about the key?” he asked. “Why is it important?”

“I’ll explain that tomorrow. In person.” Helena’s voice grew more urgent. “Come to Munich, Mr. Schönwaldt. Listen to what we have to say. After that, you can still decide to walk away. But give us—give these people—a chance.”

Erik went to the window and looked down at the street. People were heading to work, carrying coffee cups, hurrying to subway stations. Everything normal. Everything safe.

But it was an illusion. He knew that now.

“Tomorrow, 2 p.m.,” he said. “Café Frischhut.”

“I’ll be there.” Helena sounded relieved. “And Mr. Schönwaldt?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You’re making the right decision.”

She hung up.

Erik stood at the window for a long time, phone in hand. The sun climbed higher, driving away the shadows. But Erik knew: the shadows always returned. As soon as the sun went down.

And this time, he would be ready.

He called in sick at work. Then he packed a bag. Clothes for a few days. Toiletries. And the box. The entire box with everything he had taken from the castle.

At eight o’clock in the morning, he left his apartment.

At nine, he was on the train to Munich.

At two p.m., his new life would begin.

But Erik didn’t know that yet.

All he knew was this: he could no longer look away.

The darkness had called him.

And this time, he would answer.

CHAPTER 2

The Café at Viktualienmarkt

Munich greeted Erik with a gray sky and the smell of rain.

The main train station was overcrowded, a sea of people pushing through the halls. Announcements boomed from the loudspeakers, blending with the screech of trains and the hum of thousands of conversations. Erik stood still for a moment, the box tucked under his arm, his travel bag in his hand, and let the wave of noise and movement wash over him.

It had been three years since he’d last been in Munich. A weekend trip with friends—beer in the English Garden, tourist stuff at Marienplatz. He’d liked the city back then: lively, but not as hectic as Berlin. Cozy, in a very Bavarian way.

Now it looked different.

Erik couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something had changed. Maybe not the city itself, but his perception. He noticed the shadows beneath bridges, the dark corners between pillars. He noticed people who looked too pale, too thin, their eyes glassy from lack of sleep—or from something else.

Stop it, he told himself. Not every homeless person is a vampire. Not every shadow is a threat.

But the paranoia refused to fade.

Erik followed the signs to the subway. The Night Watch had sent him an address—a hotel near Viktualienmarkt. Nothing special, but clean and affordable. And most importantly: close to the meeting point.

The subway was packed. Erik had to stand, squeezed between a man who smelled of cigarettes and a young woman so absorbed in her phone that she didn’t notice her handbag bumping against Erik’s leg. He held the box tightly against his chest, instinctively protecting it.

The key was inside. And the letters. And all the other things that proved he wasn’t insane.

“City Center,” the automated voice announced. Erik pushed his way out through the crowd.

The rain had started—fine, persistent. Erik pulled up the collar of his jacket and made his way through the pedestrian zone. The hotel was easy to find—a narrow building wedged between a souvenir shop and a Turkish takeaway.

The room was small but clean. A narrow bed, a wardrobe, a tiny bathroom. Erik placed the box on the desk, the bag on the bed, then stood at the window and looked down at the street.

People hurried past, umbrellas overhead, rushing from shop to shop. Normal people with normal lives. Jobs, families, worries about bills and relationships.

Did Erik envy them? Or did he pity them for not knowing what lurked in the shadows?

He checked the time. 12:37 p.m. More than an hour until the meeting.

Erik showered and changed into fresh clothes. Then he took the key out of the box and held it up to the light.

In daylight, it looked even more ordinary than at night. Just an old iron key, rusted and heavy. The ornaments were barely recognizable, worn down by time and use.

But when Erik held it in his hand, he felt it. A kind of warmth. A pulsing, almost like a heartbeat.

You’re imagining it, he told himself. It’s just metal. Just a damn key.

But then he remembered how the key had glowed in the subway depot. How it had created a barrier that trapped the vampire. How Clara had said, “It doesn’t just open doors…”

Erik slipped the key into his jacket pocket. The pocket felt heavier than it should have.

At 1:45 p.m., he left the hotel.

Viktualienmarkt was only a five-minute walk away. Erik walked slowly, taking in his surroundings. The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung low, making the day gloomy and gray.

The market was crowded. Stalls selling fruit and vegetables, meat and cheese, flowers and spices were packed closely together. The smell was overwhelming—a mix of fresh bread, grilled sausages, herbs, and the sweet scent of overripe fruit.

In the middle of the market stood a maypole, surrounded by beer garden tables. And at the corner, in an old building with a green façade, was Café Frischhut.

Erik stopped in front of the entrance. Through the windows he could see the interior—rustic wooden tables, a counter with a glass display full of pastries, old photographs on the walls. It looked cozy. Normal.

But Erik knew: nothing was normal anymore.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The café was warm, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. About a dozen tables, most of them occupied. Tourists bent over city maps. Locals reading newspapers. An elderly couple silently eating cake.

And in the farthest corner, at a table by the window, sat a woman.

Erik recognized her immediately, though he had never seen her before. There was something in the way she sat—upright, alert, her hands folded around a coffee cup. She watched the door, watched him, and when their eyes met, she gave a slight nod.

Dr. Helena Konstantin.

Erik walked over to her table. With each step, he studied her, trying to form an impression.

She was in her mid-forties, he guessed. Elegant in a timeless way—dark hair pulled back into a severe bun, a dark blue pantsuit, minimal jewelry. Her face was striking: high cheekbones, a straight nose, and eyes of an unusual gray. Intelligent. Alert. And tired—the kind of tiredness that didn’t come from a sleepless night, but from years.

“Mr. Schönwaldt,” she said as he reached the table. Her voice was the same as on the phone—calm, controlled, with that slight accent. Eastern Europe, perhaps. “Please, have a seat.”

Erik pulled out a chair and sat down. He draped his jacket over the back but kept his hand in his pocket, feeling the weight of the key.

“You brought it,” Helena said. It wasn’t a question.

“How do you—”

“It shows.” A small smile. “The way you hold your pocket. Protectively. As if you were carrying something valuable. Or dangerous.”

Erik slowly withdrew his hand. “Probably both.”

“Probably.” Helena signaled to a waitress. “Would you like something? The coffee here is excellent.”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

The waitress came, took the order, and left. Helena waited until she was out of earshot before continuing.

“I assume you have questions.”

“Thousands,” Erik said. “But let’s start with the most obvious one: who are you?”

Helena leaned back. “I’m a historian. Specializing in European mythology, folklore, and… occult phenomena. I’ve taught at various universities—Vienna, Prague, Oxford. But ten years ago, I left the academic world.”

“Why?”

“Because I learned something the academic world couldn’t accept.” She looked him straight in the eye. “The myths are true. Not all of them, not exactly as they’re told. But there is a core of truth in them. Vampires exist. And they have existed as long as humans have.”

The waitress brought Erik’s coffee. He took a sip—hot and strong—and let her words sink in.

“The Night Watch,” he said. “What is it?”

“An organization,” Helena replied. “Very old. Very discreet. Founded in the thirteenth century by a group of monks who realized that the world needed protection from what lurks in the darkness. Over the centuries, it has evolved, changed. Today, we’re no longer monks. We’re scientists, historians, former soldiers, priests—people from all walks of life. But we all share the same goal.”

“Killing vampires.”

Helena shook her head. “Not necessarily killing. Protecting. Maintaining balance. There are vampires who live peacefully, who don’t hunt humans. Who follow the rules. We have no conflict with them.”

Erik stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Helena’s face was serious. “The world is more complicated than you might think, Mr. Schönwaldt. Good and evil aren’t absolute categories. There are vampires who were once human, who didn’t choose to be turned, who try to hold on to their humanity. Who drink only animal blood. Who help others.”

“And the vampire at Castle Falkenstein? Was that one of the ‘good’ ones?”

Helena’s gaze hardened. “No. Absolutely not. What happened there… that was one of the worst forms of vampirism. A predator that held innocents captive, tortured them for decades. What you did—killing it—was the right decision.”

“I didn’t kill it,” Erik said quietly. “Clara did. And it cost her her life.”

“I know.” Helena’s voice softened. “We’ve heard about her. About everyone who died in that castle. And we honor her sacrifice.”

Erik clenched his fists. “If you knew about the castle, why didn’t you help? Why did you leave them there?”

“Because we only learned about it three weeks ago.” Helena leaned forward. “The castle was hidden, Mr. Schönwaldt. Not just physically, but… magically. It existed outside the normal world. We’d heard rumors, old stories from the Black Forest. But no one could find it. Until you did.”

“I had the letters. The GPS coordinates.”

“You had more than that.” Helena’s eyes glinted. “You had a blood connection. Your great-grandparents were there. The castle called to you because you belonged to the family. That’s why you could find it where we failed.”

Erik took another sip of coffee, trying to organize his thoughts. “What about Munich? The five dead?”

Helena’s expression darkened. “That’s why we contacted you. The situation here is… complicated. And potentially catastrophic.”

She took a tablet from her bag, unlocked it, and slid it across the table to Erik. On the screen were photos. Autopsy photos.

Erik forced himself to look. Five bodies. All young, between twenty and thirty. All with the same pale skin, sunken eyes. And all with the same wounds on the neck—two small punctures, clean, almost surgical.

“The official explanation is a new form of anemia,” Helena said. “Caused by an unknown virus. The authorities believe the wounds are insect bites.”

“But they’re not.”

“No.” Helena scrolled further. “The blood was extracted. Not drunk. Not on site. It was drained with precision. As if it were being collected for something.”

Erik looked up. “For what?”

“That’s the question.” Helena took the tablet back. “Normally, vampires kill through exsanguination—they drink the blood directly. Fast. Efficient. But here… someone is being methodical. Collecting blood. And we believe it’s for a ritual.”

“What kind of ritual?”

Helena hesitated. “We’re not entirely sure. But we’ve found… indications. In old texts. In prophecies. There is an event some vampires seek to bring about. An event that would multiply their power.”

“What kind of event?”

“The Eternal Night.” Helena’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “A darkening of the sun. Not global, but local. Munich would be plunged into darkness, and vampires could hunt freely. Day and night. Thousands would die.”

Erik leaned back. It was too much. Too big. “That’s… that sounds like science fiction.”

“It sounds impossible,” Helena corrected. “But much of what you’ve experienced sounded impossible too—until you saw it.” She looked at him intently. “We have three months to stop them. The summer solstice. June 21. On that day, the ley lines are strongest. If they can complete the ritual…”

“Then Munich becomes a vampire city.”

“Yes.”

Erik rubbed his face. “And what does this have to do with me? I’m not a soldier. Not a mage. I’m just—”

“You’re someone who defeated one of the most powerful vampires in Europe,” Helena interrupted. “You’re someone who showed courage. Intelligence. The ability to make decisions under pressure.” She placed her hand on the table, almost as if she were about to reach for his, then stopped. “And you have something we need. The Soul Key.”

There it was. The real reason.

Erik pulled the key from his pocket and placed it on the table. In the café’s dim light, it looked unremarkable. Old. Harmless.

Helena stared at it as if Erik had laid a treasure before her.

“May I?” she asked.

Erik nodded.

Helena carefully picked up the key, turned it, examined the ornaments. Her fingers traced the engravings, and Erik could have sworn the key began to glow faintly.

“Remarkable,” she whispered. “I’ve only read about such keys. I thought they were myths.”

“What is it?”

Helena gently set the key back down. “An artifact from a time when magic and science weren’t yet separate. Forged by alchemists, probably in the fifteenth or sixteenth century. It doesn’t just open physical doors, but also… barriers. Between life and death. Between reality and… something else.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It is dangerous.” Helena met his gaze. “In the wrong hands, this key could unleash unimaginable horrors. But in the right hands… it could be the weapon we need to stop the ritual.”

Erik took the key back, feeling the pulsing again. “And you think I have the right hands?”

“I think the key chose you.” Helena smiled faintly. “These things… they have a will of their own. They choose their bearers. It led you out of the castle. Helped you defeat the vampire. That wasn’t coincidence.”

Erik put the key away, suddenly feeling very tired. “What do you want from me, Dr. Konstantin?”

“I want you to join us. The Night Watch. We’ll train you, give you the tools and knowledge you need. And together, we’ll hunt the vampires responsible for the deaths.” She leaned forward. “But above all, I need you to help me save Munich. Help me prevent the Eternal Night.”

“And if I say no?”

Helena’s gaze grew sad. “Then I’ll respect your decision. You can leave, return to your life. We’ll try to manage on our own. But…” She hesitated. “I don’t think you’ll ever truly return. Not after what you’ve seen. The darkness has touched you, Mr. Schönwaldt. It will never let you go.”

Erik looked out the window. Outside, people on the market went about their everyday business. Buying vegetables, laughing, making phone calls. The world kept turning, unaware of the threat lurking beneath their feet.

He thought of the five dead. Of their families. Of the people who would die if no one acted.

And he thought of Clara. Of her smile just before she died. Of her words: “For all of us.”

Erik turned back to Helena. “I have one condition.”

“And that is?”

“No secrets. You tell me everything. About the vampires, the ritual, your organization. I want to know what I’m getting into.”

Helena nodded slowly. “Agreed. Full transparency.”

“Then I’m in.”

For the first time, Helena showed a genuine smile. “Welcome to the Night Watch, Mr. Schönwaldt.” She stood and extended her hand. “Or may I call you Erik?”

Erik stood as well and shook her hand. Her grip was firm, warm. “Erik is fine.”

“Perfect.” Helena released his hand. “Then let’s go. I want to show you where we work. And introduce you to the team.”

“Team?”

“You didn’t think I did this alone?” Helena laughed softly. “No, Erik. The Night Watch is larger than you think. And everyone has a role.” She placed money on the table for the coffee. “Come. It’s time you learned the truth about Munich.”

They walked toward the door. But before Erik stepped outside, Helena caught his arm.

“One more thing,” she said seriously. “From now on, your life will be dangerous. The vampires we hunt—they hunt us too. You must stay alert. Always. Trust no one blindly. And if you ever feel like you’re being followed…” She looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t run. Fight.”

Erik nodded slowly. “Understood.”

They stepped out onto the market. The clouds had parted, and a weak beam of sunlight broke through. But Erik saw the shadows between the stalls, the dark corners where the light didn’t reach.

And he knew: Helena was right.

The darkness would never let him go.

But this time, he wouldn’t run.

This time, he would strike back.

CHAPTER 3
The First Victim

The rain had started again as Helena and Erik drove through downtown Munich. Heavy, penetrating rain that turned the streets into gleaming black mirrors. The BMW’s windshield wipers fought against the masses of water, their rhythmic squeaking the only sound inside the car.

Erik sat in the passenger seat, the box with the key on his lap, watching the streets slide past. Munich looked different now, after Helena had told him the truth. More threatening. As if something were lurking behind every façade, in every dark window.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked.

“The Institute of Forensic Medicine,” Helena replied without taking her eyes off the road. “On the other side of the Isar. A colleague is waiting for us there.”

“A colleague from the night watch?”

“No. A regular forensic pathologist. But one who… asks questions. Who recognizes patterns.” She took a turn too fast for Erik’s taste. “Dr. Martin Weber. Officially, he doesn’t know about us, but he suspects that something isn’t right with the cases. We have a… arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

“We give him answers his mind can accept. In return, he lets us see the evidence he can’t explain.” Helena smiled thinly. “A symbiotic relationship.”

They drove across a bridge. Beneath them, the Isar flowed dark and swollen with rain. Erik could imagine things disappearing in that water. Evidence. Bodies. Secrets.

The Institute of Forensic Medicine was a modern building of glass and concrete, nestled into the hillside. Brightly lit despite the late hour, a lighthouse in the darkness. Helena parked in a reserved bay, showed an ID to a guard, and they were waved through.

“Let me do the talking,” Helena said as they went inside. “Weber is… eccentric. He doesn’t like surprises.”

The corridors smelled of disinfectant—and something else. Something sweetish that Erik didn’t want to name. Death, he thought. That’s the smell of death.

They took an elevator down to the basement. The doors opened onto another corridor: white walls, harsh fluorescent light. At the end stood a door labeled:

AUTOPSY ROOM 3 – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Helena knocked twice, then once, then twice again. A code.

The door opened.

The man who let them in was in his early fifties, tall and gaunt, with snow-white hair and rimless glasses. He wore green surgical scrubs and latex gloves. His eyes, behind the lenses, were alert and intelligent.

“Helena,” he said in greeting. His voice was deep, with a slight northern German accent. “Punctual as always.”

“Martin. This is Erik Schönwaldt. He’s working with us now.”

Dr. Weber studied Erik with a look that seemed to see through him while dissecting him at the same time. “The man from the Black Forest,” he said at last. “Helena told me about you. Falkenstein Castle.”

Erik nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’ll see.” Weber turned and walked into the room. “Follow me.”

The autopsy room was exactly as Erik had imagined it—and worse. Stainless-steel tables, glaring light, shelves of instruments that looked too precise. And in the center, on one of the tables, under a white sheet, the outline of a body.

“The latest victim,” Weber said as he approached the table. “Sophie Hartmann. Twenty-four years old. Student at LMU. Found three days ago in her apartment in Maxvorstadt. Her roommate came home and found her in bed. Dead.”

He pulled back the sheet.

Erik forced himself to look.

Sophie Hartmann was—had been—a young woman with short dark hair and a narrow face. Her skin had the unnatural pallor of death, but something more as well. A translucence, as if one could see through her. Her lips were bluish, her eyes closed and sunken.

“Cause of death?” Helena stepped closer, professional, composed.

“Officially? Acute heart failure due to extreme anemia.” Weber picked up a file and flipped through it. “Hemoglobin level at discovery: 3.2 grams per deciliter. Normal would be twelve to sixteen. She practically had no blood left in her body.”

“How is that possible?” Erik couldn’t tear his eyes away from the corpse. “I mean… with that much blood loss, there would have to be blood everywhere.”

“That’s the mystery.” Weber stepped closer to the body, pointing at various places. “No external bleeding. No internal bleeding that I could find. The blood didn’t go anywhere. It’s… gone.”

“Show him the wounds,” Helena said quietly.

Weber nodded. He carefully turned the corpse’s head to the side, brushed the hair away.

There, on the neck beneath the left ear: two small puncture marks. Round, clean, no bigger than needle pricks. But deep. Erik could see where they led into the carotid artery.

“Twice,” Weber said. “Always twice. All five victims had the same markings. Precisely placed. No trembling, no slipping. As if someone worked with surgical accuracy.”

Erik leaned closer. The wounds looked like… bite marks. Exactly like Lukas’s. And yet different. Cleaner. More controlled.

“Tool or teeth?” Helena asked.

“Impossible to say.” Weber moved the lamp closer. “The edges are too smooth for most tools. But also too precise for human teeth. And look at this.”

He took a magnifying glass from his pocket and handed it to Erik. “At the edge of the left wound. Do you see it?”

Erik held the magnifier over the puncture site. At first he saw nothing but damaged tissue. Then, almost invisible, a tiny filament. Not fabric. Something else.

“A hair,” he whispered.

“Not a human hair.” Weber sounded triumphant, like a teacher whose student had given the right answer. “I analyzed it. The structure is unusual. Too smooth, too strong. And the DNA…” He broke off, shaking his head. “The DNA makes no sense. It doesn’t match any known mammal.”

Erik straightened and handed the magnifier to Helena. She examined the wound herself, her face expressionless.

“What’s your theory, Martin?” she asked.

Weber pulled off his gloves and tossed them into a waste bin. “Officially? A new form of parasite. Something that drains blood without leaving traces. Maybe a species of tick we don’t know yet.”

“And unofficially?”

Weber looked at her for a long moment. Then he went to a shelf and took out a jar. Inside, preserved in formaldehyde, was the hair.

“Unofficially,” he said quietly, “in thirty years of forensic medicine I’ve seen a lot. Murders, accidents, diseases. I thought I could explain everything. But this…” He put the jar back. “This follows no logic I know. And the worst part is: it’s not the first time.”

“What do you mean?” Erik stepped closer.

Weber went to a computer and typed something in. Files appeared on the screen. Many files.

“In the last five years,” Weber said, “there have been twenty similar cases in Munich. Not all identical, but all with extreme blood loss, no explanation. The authorities filed them as ‘unsolved.’ Too difficult, too strange. Nobody wants to deal with them.”

Helena stepped beside him. “Twenty? I thought there were only five in the last three weeks.”

“Those are the acute cases. The obvious ones.” Weber scrolled through the data. “But if you look closer, you see a pattern. Every few months, a death. Always the same symptoms. Always the same wounds.” He looked at Helena. “Whatever this is—it’s not new. It’s been here. For years.”

Erik felt his stomach tighten. For years. Vampires in Munich, undetected for years.

“Why now?” he asked. “Why have five people suddenly died in the last three weeks? What changed?”

“That’s the right question.” Helena turned away from the computer and went back to the body. “Martin, did you find anything else with this victim? Anything unusual?”

Weber hesitated. “Define unusual.”

“You know what I mean.”

Weber sighed. He went to a refrigerator, opened it, and took out a Petri dish. Inside was a small piece of tissue.

“I took this from the wound,” he said, placing the dish under a microscope. “Normally, you’d find bacteria in wounds like this, maybe saliva if it was a bite. But here…”

He stepped aside and let Erik look through the microscope.

Erik saw… something. Cells, he thought, but they were moving. Pulsing. As if they were alive, even though the woman was dead.

“What is that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Weber said, frustrated. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It behaves like a virus, but it’s too large. Like a parasite, but it has no recognizable structure. And the craziest part…” He took the dish back. “It dies when exposed to sunlight. Instantly. Within seconds.”

Silence filled the room.

Helena and Erik exchanged a glance.

“Sunlight,” Erik said softly.

Weber looked back and forth between them. “What? What does that mean?”

“It means,” Helena said carefully, “that your parasite theory isn’t entirely wrong. It’s just that this parasite… is more intelligent than you think.”

“More intelligent? Helena, what the hell are you talking about?”

Helena took a deep breath. “Martin, I’m going to tell you something, and you won’t believe me. But I need you to listen.”

Weber folded his arms. “I’m listening.”

“What killed these people isn’t an animal. Not a normal animal. It’s…” She searched for words. “It’s something very old. Something that exists in legends—but also in reality. Something that needs blood to survive.”

Weber stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Helena, you’re a scientist. You can’t seriously—”

“I was a scientist,” Helena interrupted. “Until I saw things science couldn’t explain. Until I had to accept that there is more between heaven and earth than our school wisdom can imagine.”

Weber laughed incredulously. “You’re quoting Shakespeare to tell me that… what? That vampires are real? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Erik interjected. His voice was calm but firm. “Dr. Weber, you yourself said this follows no logic you know. That you’ve never seen anything like it. What if the reason is that you’re looking with the wrong logic?”

“And the right logic would be vampires?” Weber shook his head. “No. No, that’s nonsense. There has to be a scientific explanation.”

“And what if the scientific explanation is that some legends are true?” Helena stepped closer. “Martin, I’ve known you for ten years. You’re one of the best forensic specialists I know. You see things others overlook. But sometimes, to see the truth, you have to be willing to accept the impossible.”

Weber was silent for a long time. His gaze drifted to the body, to the microscope, back to Helena.

“Suppose,” he said finally, “just suppose you’re right. What then? What do you do against… against something like that?”

“You hunt it.” Helena’s voice hardened. “You find it, and you stop it.”

“And how?”

“That,” Erik said, tapping the box under his arm, “we’ll figure out.”

Weber rubbed his eyes. “I… I need a moment.”

“Take your time.” Helena briefly placed a hand on his shoulder. “But while you’re thinking: is there anything else? Any clue we might have missed?”

Weber went back to the computer, almost mechanically. “The locations,” he said. “All five victims were found in their apartments. No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle. As if they were… invited in.”

“Vampires need an invitation,” Erik murmured. “That’s how it is in the stories, right?”

“In some,” Helena confirmed. “But not all. And the stories are often distorted. Still, Martin, you’re right—if there are no signs of forced entry, it means the victims knew their killer. Or let them in willingly.”

“There’s more.” Weber opened another file. Photos of Sophie’s apartment. “The scene was strangely arranged. The roommate said Sophie would never have made her bed like that. But when she was found, she was lying perfectly arranged. Hands folded over her chest. Almost like…”

“Like in a coffin,” Helena finished.

“Yes.” Weber looked uneasy. “And one more thing. We found this in the apartment.”

He showed them a photo. On Sophie’s bedside table: a single red rose, and next to it a card.

“What does the card say?” Erik asked.

Weber took an evidence bag and handed it to Helena. She opened it carefully and pulled out the card.

The handwriting was elegant, old-fashioned. Just four words:

Thank you for the gift.

Erik felt a chill run down his spine. “The gift. The blood.”

“Not just the blood.” Helena turned the card over. On the back was a symbol: a stylized eye with a vertical pupil, surrounded by a crown.

“Do you recognize the symbol?” Erik asked.

Helena nodded slowly. Her face had gone pale. “Yes. That’s the seal of the Council.”

“The Council?”

“A gathering of ancient vampires. The eldest. The most powerful.” Helena’s voice trembled slightly. “If they’re here, if they’re becoming active in Munich…” She broke off and took a deep breath. “Then it’s worse than I thought.”

Weber looked between them. “What does that mean? What is the Council?”

“Trouble,” Erik said quietly. “Big trouble.”

Helena put the card back into the bag and returned it to Weber. “Martin, I need you to keep this secret. No one can know about this symbol. Can you do that?”

“Helena—”

“Please.”

Weber sighed. “All right. But I want updates. If you really are… hunting, I want to know what happens.”

“You will.” Helena turned to leave, then paused. “And Martin? Be careful. If the Council is really here, no one is safe. Not even during the day.”

They left the autopsy room. The corridor outside suddenly seemed too bright, too loud. Erik could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights, the drone of the ventilation.

In the elevator, Helena said, “We need to get back to headquarters. The team has to know.”

“The symbol,” Erik said. “You recognized it. How?”

Helena looked away. “My father had the same symbol. As a tattoo. On his chest.”

Erik remembered. The vampire in the subway depot. Konstantin. Helena’s father.

“You think he was part of the Council?”

“I don’t know. He never talked about it.” Helena’s voice was controlled, but Erik could hear the pain beneath it. “But if he was, if the Council is behind this… then this is personal. Very personal.”

The elevator doors opened. They went back to the car, through the rain, which had intensified again.

As they got in, Erik asked, “What did Weber mean by ‘as if they were invited in’? Do vampires really need an invitation?”

“Some do.” Helena started the engine. “It depends on age, on power. Young vampires are bound by rules. They can’t enter a home without permission. But older ones…” She turned onto the street. “Older ones have ways around those rules. And the Elders—the Council—they don’t follow any rules at all.”

“How many are on the Council?”

“No one knows for sure. The numbers vary. Some say seven. Some say twelve. I’ve heard it could be even more.” Helena’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “But one thing we know: they are centuries old. Some millennia. They’ve seen empires rise and fall. They’ve survived wars, plagues, everything. And they are unimaginably powerful.”

“And now they’re here. In Munich.”

“Yes.”

“Why? What do they want here?”

Helena was silent for a moment. Then, “I don’t know. But whatever it is—it’s big. The Council doesn’t move without reason. And if they’re starting to kill so openly, leaving symbols behind…” She shook her head. “They want us to know. They want us to be afraid.”

“Mission accomplished,” Erik muttered.

They drove through the dark streets of Munich. The city looked peaceful, oblivious. People in lit windows, living their lives. Restaurants, bars, normal life.

But Erik saw the shadows now. The dark spaces between buildings. The figures that moved too fast to be human.

“How many are there?” he asked suddenly. “How many vampires in Munich?”

“Hard to say. We estimate… maybe twenty. Thirty.” Helena turned into a side street. “Most live peacefully. Drink animal blood, keep hidden. We have a kind of… armistice with them.”

“And the others?”

“The others hunt.” Helena’s voice turned cold. “And we hunt them.”

They stopped in front of an inconspicuous building in the old town. From the outside it looked like an old bookshop, closed for the night.

“We’re here,” Helena said.

Erik got out, the box under his arm. The rain had eased into a fine drizzle. The street was empty, quiet. Only the sound of water rushing through the drains.

Helena went to the bookshop door and knocked three times. A pause. Then twice. Then once.

The door opened from the inside.

A man stood there. Tall, muscular, early forties, with short-cropped gray hair and a scar running from his left eye down to his chin. He wore black combat gear, and weapons hung from his belt. Many weapons.

“Helena,” he said. His voice was rough, as if from too much whiskey and too many cigarettes. “And this must be the new guy.”

“Erik Schönwaldt, this is Marcus Wolf,” Helena introduced them. “He runs our field operations.”

Marcus looked Erik over with a weighing gaze. “Falkenstein Castle, I hear. Alone against an old vampire. Either you’re brave or you’re stupid.”

“Probably both,” Erik said.

Marcus suddenly grinned. “I like that. Come on in, rookie. Time you met the family.”

They stepped into the darkness of the bookshop.

And into a world Erik had never thought possible.

CHAPTER 4
The Berger Family

The bookshop was small and cluttered. Shelves stretched up to the ceiling, crammed with books whose spines were barely legible in the dim light. It smelled of old paper, dust, and something else—incense, perhaps, or herbs.

Marcus led them through a narrow aisle between the shelves, past a cash register that looked as though it hadn’t been used in decades. On the back wall hung a heavy curtain. Marcus pulled it aside, revealing a door made of solid oak.

“After you,” he said to Erik and opened the door.

Beyond it was not, as Erik had expected, a storage room. Instead: a spiral staircase leading downward. Stone steps, worn smooth by countless feet, illuminated by flickering lights embedded in the walls.

“How deep does it go?” Erik asked as they descended.

“Three levels,” Helena replied ahead of him. “The top two are offices and training rooms. The lowest one is the archive.”

“And beneath that are the old catacombs,” Marcus added. “From the Middle Ages. Munich sits on a labyrinth of tunnels. Most people don’t even know they exist anymore. Perfect for us—and unfortunately also perfect for the ones we hunt.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. A long corridor stretched out before them, with doors on both sides. Modern lighting now—LED strips along the ceiling. The contrast between ancient stone and modern technology was unsettling.

Helena opened one of the doors. “Conference room. The team should already be waiting.”

The room was surprisingly spacious. A long table of dark wood stood in the center, surrounded by chairs. On the walls: whiteboards filled with notes, photos, maps of Munich marked with symbols. And monitors—several of them—showing different parts of the city. Surveillance cameras, Erik realized.

Two people were seated at the table.

The first was a woman in her mid-thirties with long black hair and Asian features. She wore thick-rimmed glasses and had a tablet in front of her, which she was reading. When she looked up, she smiled warmly.

“You must be Erik,” she said with a slight American accent. “Helena’s told us about you. I’m Yuki Tanaka.”

“The historian,” Erik said, recalling Helena’s description at the café.

“And mythologist. And occasionally translator for languages that have been dead for a thousand years.” Yuki stood and shook his hand. Her grip was warm and firm. “Welcome to the Night Watch.”

The second person at the table was a man probably in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and the face of someone who had smiled a lot—laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He wore a black sweater and a crucifix around his neck. But it was his presence that impressed Erik most: a calm, a stillness that seemed to emanate from him in waves.

“Brother Thomas,” Helena said. “Our spiritual advisor.”

The man stood and nodded to Erik. “Just Thomas is fine. I left the Church a long time ago.” His voice was gentle, almost melodic. “But faith… faith never left me.”

“Thomas used to be an exorcist,” Marcus explained, dropping into a chair. “One of the best. Until he saw things the Church couldn’t accept.”

“The Church knows a great deal about evil,” Thomas said quietly. “But not everything. And what it doesn’t understand, it banishes.” He smiled faintly. “I was banished. But the work… the work goes on.”

Helena took a seat at the head of the table. Erik sat down next to Yuki and placed the box in front of him.

“Status?” Helena asked.

Marcus leaned back. “No new incidents in the last twenty-four hours. But surveillance picked something up.” He pointed to one of the monitors. “Cameras at the Viktualienmarkt, this morning at four. Take a look.”

He pressed a button on a remote. A video played on the screen. Black and white, grainy, but clear enough. The deserted market, stalls lost in shadow. Then, at the edge of the frame: a figure.

It moved too fast. One moment it was there, the next blurred, then sharp again. Not like a human running. More like a still image skipping frames.

“Vampire,” Marcus said unnecessarily.

The figure paused, turned toward the camera. Just for a moment. Long enough to make out a face. Female. Young. Beautiful. And the eyes—

“They’re glowing,” Erik whispered.

“Tapetum lucidum,” Yuki said. “A reflective layer behind the retina. Cats have it. And vampires.” She tapped on her tablet. “I ran her face through our database. No hits. Either she’s new in town, or she’s been very good at staying hidden.”

“Or both,” Helena murmured. She suddenly looked tired, older. “Marcus, where was she heading? Were we able to track her?”

“Lost her on Giselastrasse. Too many blind spots.” Marcus shook his head. “But the direction was clear. She came from Schwabing.”

“Schwabing.” Helena frowned. “Yuki, any reports from Schwabing? Suspicious activity?”

Yuki scrolled through her tablet. “Nothing in the official channels. But…” She hesitated. “There is a forum post. One of those conspiracy theory sites. A mother claims her baby is behaving strangely. Sleeps only during the day, screams at night. She thinks it’s… cursed.”

“Cursed,” Marcus repeated skeptically. “Sounds like postnatal depression.”

“Normally I’d agree.” Yuki zoomed in on something on her screen. “But she mentions something else. Two small wounds on the baby’s neck. The doctors said they were insect bites.”

Silence fell over the room.

Erik felt his stomach tighten. “How old is the baby?”

“Six weeks.”

“Where in Schwabing?”

Yuki typed. “She doesn’t give an exact address, but she mentions the English Garden being within walking distance. And the Klinikum rechts der Isar.”

Helena and Erik exchanged a glance.

“The Klinikum,” Erik said. “That’s the hospital from the report. The neonatal ward.”

“What report?” Marcus asked, confused.

“I read a report,” Helena improvised quickly. “Three weeks ago, a night nurse reported an incident. An open window, a baby with bite marks. It was classified as insignificant.”

“Three weeks ago,” Thomas said quietly. “That was when the deaths began.”

“It fits the timeline,” Yuki confirmed. “If a baby was bitten, it could be part of a larger plan.”

“What kind of plan?” Erik asked. “Why would a vampire bite a baby?”

“Creation,” Thomas said softly. Everyone looked at him. “It’s an ancient practice. Very rare, very forbidden among most vampire clans. A child bitten at such a young age doesn’t transform immediately. Instead… it grows up with the darkness inside it. Becomes something between human and vampire.”

“A dhampir,” Yuki said. “Half human, half vampire. In folklore they’re often hunters, using their abilities against vampires. But in reality…” She shook her head. “They’re tools. Slaves to the one who created them.”

Erik thought of the baby in the report. Lukas. “Can we reverse it?”

Thomas nodded slowly. “If it’s caught early enough, yes. There is a ritual. Difficult, dangerous—but possible.”

“Then we have to find the baby.” Helena stood. “Yuki, can you track down the mother? From the forum post?”

“I can try. Give me an hour.”

“Do it.” Helena turned to Marcus. “Prepare a team. If we find the baby, we’ll need protection. The vampire who bit him will feel the connection.”

“Understood.” Marcus stood, checked the weapons on his belt. “We’ll go lightly armed. No heavy firepower. It’s a residential area.”

“And Erik?” Thomas looked at him. “What about him?”

“He’s coming with us.” Helena’s voice brooked no argument. “He has a right to see what we’re dealing with. And…” She glanced at the box. “He has something we might need.”

All eyes shifted to the box.

“The Soul Key,” Yuki said in awe. “May I?”

Erik nodded. He opened the box and took out the key.

In the LED light of the conference room, it looked unremarkable. Just an old iron key, rusted and heavy.

But when Yuki took it in her hand, something happened.

The key began to glow. Faint at first, then brighter. A warm, golden light emanated from the engravings.

“Incredible,” Yuki whispered. She turned the key, examined the markings. “These symbols… that’s alchemy. And this here…” She pointed to a series of characters. “That’s Hebrew. Very old Hebrew.”

“What does it mean?” Erik asked.

“‘Opener of the paths between life and death.’” Yuki looked up. “This is no ordinary key. It’s an artifact of immense power.”

“Could it help with the ritual?” Helena asked.

“Possibly.” Thomas had stepped beside Yuki, studying the key as well. “If the barrier between the child and the darkness must be broken… yes, this could work.”

“Then we take it with us.” Helena turned to Erik. “Are you ready?”

Was he ready? Erik didn’t know. But he thought of the baby, of Lukas, of a life that had barely begun and was already threatened by darkness.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m ready.”

---

An hour later, they were sitting in two cars. Helena, Erik, and Thomas in the first—an inconspicuous gray VW. Marcus and Yuki in the second, a black SUV with tinted windows.

Yuki had found the family. Anna Berger. Twenty-five years old, married to Michael Berger, twenty-eight. Son Lukas, born October 12. Apartment in Schwabing, Clemensstrasse, third floor.

The drive took twenty minutes. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained overcast, a gray lid smothering the city. The streets were wet, reflecting the streetlights like liquid silver.

“What do we tell them?” Erik asked. “The parents? They’ll never believe us.”

“We tell them the truth,” Helena replied. “Or enough of it that they’ll listen.”

“And if they don’t let us in?”

“Then we convince them.” Helena’s voice was firm. “I’ve never seen a mother willingly sacrifice her child, Erik. If she truly believes something is wrong with her son, she’ll listen.”

They parked a street away to avoid drawing attention. Clemensstrasse was quiet, Gründerzeit apartment buildings, well maintained. Balconies with flower boxes, even now in November. Normal families, normal lives.

“Number eighteen,” Yuki said over the radio. “Third floor, right.”

They approached the building. Marcus and Yuki stayed outside, watching the surroundings. Helena, Erik, and Thomas went in.

The stairwell smelled of cleaning solution and coffee. Somewhere a child was crying. Not Lukas—too old, too strong—but it reminded Erik what was at stake.

Third floor. Right. A nameplate on the door: Berger.

Helena rang the bell.

Nothing. They waited. Rang again.

Then footsteps. Slow, hesitant. A woman’s voice: “Yes?”

“Mrs. Berger? My name is Dr. Helena Konstantin. I’m… I’m here because of your son.”

“What do you want?” The voice sounded exhausted. Afraid. “Are you from child services? We haven’t done anything wrong, I swear—”

“We’re not from child services.” Helena’s voice was gentle. “We’re here to help. Please, open the door. Just for a moment.”

A long pause. Then the sound of a lock turning.

The door opened a crack. A woman peered out. Young, with blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail. Dark circles under her eyes. She wore a bathrobe and looked as if she hadn’t slept properly in days.

“What do you want?” she repeated.

“May we come in?” Helena asked. “It’s about the wounds on Lukas’s neck.”

Anna Berger froze. Her eyes widened. “How… how do you know about that?”

“Because we know what caused them,” Helena said, meeting her gaze. “And we can help.”

Anna opened the door wider. She looked from Helena to Erik to Thomas. “You believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“No,” Erik said softly. “We don’t think you’re crazy.”

Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. “No one believes me. The doctors, my husband, no one. They all say it’s normal, it’s just a phase. But I know something’s wrong. I see it in his eyes when he looks at me. That’s not my baby. That’s…”

“May we see him?” Thomas asked gently.

Anna nodded and stepped aside. “He’s sleeping. He always sleeps during the day. But at night…” Her voice broke. “At night he’s wide awake. And he screams. And his eyes…”

She led them through the apartment. Small but cozy. Photos on the walls—a young couple, happy. Wedding pictures, vacations, the first ultrasound image. A normal life, Erik thought. Or once it had been.

The nursery was at the end of the hallway. The door stood half open. Anna stopped in front of it, as if afraid to go in.

“May I?” Erik asked.

Anna nodded mutely.

Erik opened the door quietly and stepped inside.

The room was dark. Curtains drawn, no light except a faint nightlight in the corner. In the center stood a crib, and inside, beneath a blanket, a small bundle.

Erik stepped closer. His heartbeat quickened.

The baby lay on its back, eyes closed, breathing calmly. It looked like any other baby. Small, vulnerable, innocent.

Then Erik saw the wounds.

On the neck, beneath the left ear. Two small marks. Not fresh, but not healed. Dark, almost black. And around them, on the delicate skin, a fine web of veins. Too dark. Too visible.

“He won’t drink anymore,” Anna whispered behind him. “No breast milk, no bottle. Only… only when I…” She trailed off.

“Only when you what?” Helena asked gently.

“Only when I put my blood in it.” Anna’s voice was barely audible. “I cut myself, out of desperation, and a drop fell into the milk. And he… he drank. For the first time in days. And I knew…” She began to sob. “I knew my baby… that he…”

Helena took Anna into her arms and held her while she cried.

Thomas had stepped beside Erik. He studied the baby with an expression of deep compassion. “It’s early,” he murmured. “The transformation has only just begun. We still have time.”

“How much time?” Erik asked.

“Days. Maybe a week.” Thomas took a small crucifix from his pocket and held it over the baby.

Lukas’s eyes opened.

They were not brown, as they should have been. They were red. Bright red, glowing in the darkness.

The baby looked at Thomas. Looked at the crucifix. And began to scream.

It wasn’t a normal baby’s cry. It was piercing, unnatural, a sound that cut to the bone.

The ceiling light flickered. The nightlight exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Out!” Thomas shouted. “Everyone out, now!”

They stumbled out of the room, Helena dragging Anna with her. The door slammed shut behind them as if caught by a gust of wind.

The hallway suddenly turned ice-cold. Their breath formed clouds.

“What’s happening?” Anna clung to Helena. “What’s happening to my baby?”

“The darkness is reacting,” Thomas said. “The vampire who bit him—he feels us. Feels that we’re here.”

“Then he’ll come,” Helena said. “Marcus!” She spoke into the small headset in her ear. “We have contact. Prepare yourselves.”

Marcus’s voice crackled back: “Understood. Yuki sees something on the rooftops. Movement. Multiple figures.”

“Multiple?” Helena’s face went pale. “That’s not good.”

A crash. The front door, downstairs in the stairwell.

Then footsteps. Fast. Too fast.

“Lock the door!” Helena ordered.

Erik ran to the apartment door, turned the key, shoved a chair in front of it. It wouldn’t help much, he knew—but better than nothing.

“Back way out,” Thomas said. “Is there a rear exit?”

Anna nodded numbly. “The fire escape. From the balcony.”

“Good. Get your baby. We’re leaving. Now.”

Anna ran back toward the nursery. The screaming had stopped. Silence. Too silent.

Erik followed her, just in case—

Anna stood frozen by the crib.

The crib was empty.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no. Where is he? Where is my baby?”

At the window, behind the curtains, there was movement.

Erik tore the curtains open.

Outside on the balcony stood a figure. Female. Young. The face from the surveillance video.

In her arms: baby Lukas.

The woman smiled. Her teeth were too white, too sharp.

“You shouldn’t have tried to take him from me,” she said. Her voice was melodic, almost sing-song. “He belongs to me. I chose him.”

“Valentina,” Helena whispered behind Erik. “Give us the child.”

“No.” Valentina stepped back, balancing on the edge of the balcony. Three stories above the street. “He is my gift. My contribution to the Council.”

“The Council will fail,” Thomas said. He had stepped forward, crucifix in hand. “In the name of—”

Valentina laughed. “Your symbols have no power over me, priest. I am old. Older than your god.”

She jumped.

Just like that. From the balcony, three stories down, the baby in her arms.

Anna screamed.

Erik ran to the balcony and looked down.

Valentina landed on the street. On her feet. Perfectly. As if she’d merely stepped down a stair.

She looked up at him and smiled once more.

Then she ran. So fast she blurred.

“No!” Anna tried to climb over the railing. Erik held her back.

“Marcus!” Helena shouted into her headset. “She has the baby! Heading south, down Clemensstrasse!”

“We’re on it!” Marcus’s voice replied, then the roar of an engine.

They ran out of the apartment, down the stairs. Anna stumbled, sobbing, but Helena kept her upright.

Outside, the SUV was waiting, engine running. Marcus at the wheel, Yuki beside him with a laptop.

“Get in!” Marcus yelled.

They piled in—Erik, Helena, Thomas, Anna. The car shot forward before the door was fully closed.

“Where is she?” Helena asked.

“Tracking phone signals in the area,” Yuki said, typing frantically. “Vampires sometimes use stolen phones to communicate. If we’re lucky… there!” She pointed at the screen. “One signal, moving extremely fast. Nymphenburger Strasse, heading west.”

“That’s toward the park.” Marcus floored the gas. “She wants the trees. Damn it.”

They tore through the streets, ignoring traffic lights, horns blaring behind them. Anna sat slumped, crying softly. Erik felt helpless.

“Why?” he asked aloud. “Why does she want the baby?”

“The Council,” Helena replied. “Thomas was right. A half-transformed child is a powerful tool. It can do things normal vampires can’t. Cross boundaries. And…” She hesitated. “It can be used as a sacrifice. For a ritual.”

“What kind of ritual?”

“One we don’t want to find out.”

They reached the edge of the park. Nymphenburg, the old royal park, stretched out before them. Dark, vast, confusing.

“She’s in there,” Yuki said. “The signal’s gone static. She’s waiting.”

“It’s a trap,” Thomas said.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Marcus growled. He grabbed a weapon from beneath his seat, a large silver pistol. “But we don’t have a choice.”

They got out. The wind had picked up, tugging at their jackets. The park lay before them like a black sea.

“Anna, you stay here,” Helena ordered.

“No!” Anna grabbed Helena’s arm. “That’s my baby! I’m coming with you!”

“You’ll only—”

“I’m coming!” Anna’s voice broke. “Please. I can’t… I can’t wait here and do nothing.”

Helena looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Stay behind us. No matter what happens.”

They entered the park.

The trees swallowed the light. Only the moon, half-hidden by clouds, offered some orientation. Their footsteps crunched on gravel, then on leaves.

“I hear something,” Thomas whispered. “Ahead.”

They followed the sound. Crying. A baby crying.

Lukas.

They reached a clearing. In the center, standing on an old stone fountain, was Valentina.

She held Lukas aloft like a trophy.

“You came,” she said. “Good. I wanted witnesses.”

Around the clearing, between the trees, shadows moved. Many shadows.

“We’re surrounded,” Marcus muttered.

Valentina smiled. “The Council sends its regards.”

The shadows stepped into the light.

Vampires. Five, six, seven. Men and women, all with those glowing eyes, all inhumanly beautiful and absolutely deadly.

“Give us the child,” Helena said. Her voice did not tremble. “And we’ll let you go.”

“Liar,” Valentina said. “But it doesn’t matter. You will all die tonight. And the child…” She looked down at Lukas. “The child will open the gate.”

“What gate?” Erik asked.

Valentina looked at him. “The gate to eternal night, of course. When an innocent life is sacrificed, in the right place, at the right time… we can extinguish the sun. Forever.”

“That’s madness,” Thomas said.

“That’s evolution.” Valentina’s eyes glowed brighter. “Humanity has had its chance long enough. Now it’s our time.”

She lifted Lukas higher.

The baby screamed.

And Erik knew: she had no intention of waiting.

She was going to kill the baby now. Here. In front of them.

Without thinking, Erik reached into his pocket. The Soul Key was there, cold and heavy.

He pulled it out.

The key exploded with light.

Not the warm, golden glow from before—but blinding, searing brilliance, like lightning, like the sun itself.

The vampires screamed, recoiling, shielding their eyes.

Valentina stumbled, nearly dropping Lukas.

“Now!” Marcus roared.

He fired. The crack was deafening. A silver bullet struck one of the vampires in the shoulder, and it howled.

Chaos erupted.

The vampires attacked. Thomas swung his crucifix, murmuring prayers. Helena had produced a flamethrower; small jets of fire licked outward.

And Erik stood there, the key in his hand, and the light grew brighter and brighter, until it hurt to look at.

A barrier formed. Just like in the subway depot, like at Falkenstein Castle. A ring of light that enclosed them, that kept the vampires at bay.

Valentina screamed. “What is that? What do you have there?”

Erik didn’t know. But he tightened his grip on the key and focused.

“Give me the baby,” he said. “Or I’ll expand the barrier. And you’ll burn.”

Valentina stared at him. Hatred in her eyes. But also… fear.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she hissed. “You don’t know what the key is.”

“Then explain it to me.”

She laughed—a cold, bitter laugh. “The Soul Key. Forged by the alchemists of Prague. It doesn’t just open doors, hunter. It opens souls. And if you keep using it…” She smiled cruelly. “It will open yours too.”

Erik hesitated. Just for a moment.

Valentina used it.

She threw Lukas.

Just like that. Threw the baby into the air, over the barrier.

Anna screamed and ran forward.

She caught Lukas, stumbled, fell to the ground. But she had him. She had her baby.

And Valentina used the distraction to jump. Over the barrier, over all of them, landing behind them.

“Retreat!” she shouted to the other vampires.

They obeyed instantly, vanishing between the trees so fast they were little more than shadows.

Within seconds, the clearing was empty.

Only they remained—panting, exhausted, but alive.

Anna sat on the ground, clutching Lukas to her chest, crying and laughing at the same time. The baby cried too, but it was normal crying now. No unnatural shrieking.

Erik lowered the key. The light faded.

His hands were shaking.

“Nice work, rookie,” Marcus said. He sounded impressed.

But Helena looked worried. “Erik. How did you do that? With the key?”

“I… I don’t know. I just thought I had to stop them, and…” He looked at the key. It looked normal again. Just metal. “What did she mean by ‘it opens souls’?”

Thomas stepped over to him, studying the key with a grave expression. “It’s a warning. The Soul Key is powerful, but it demands a price. Every time you use it, you open a door. Not just outward. Inward as well.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Helena said quietly, “that you have to be careful. The key could change you. If you use it too often…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t have to.

Erik understood.

The key was not just a weapon.

It was a danger.

To his enemies.

And to himself.

Chapter 5
The Night Watch Headquarters

The drive back was quiet.

Anna sat in the back of the SUV, holding Lukas tightly against her chest and staring out the window. The baby had stopped crying and fallen asleep—a deep, peaceful sleep Anna hadn’t seen in him for weeks. The red glow in his eyes was gone. The wounds on his neck looked paler, less threatening.

But Erik knew: it wasn’t over yet.

“What happens now?” Anna finally asked. Her voice was hoarse from crying. “With Lukas? Is he… is he healed?”

Helena turned around from the passenger seat. “Not yet. The light of the key slowed the transformation, but it didn’t stop it. We have to perform the ritual.”

“What ritual?”

“A cleansing ritual. Very old, very powerful.” Helena’s voice was gentle but firm. “It will sever the connection between Lukas and the vampire. Remove the darkness from him.”

“Is it dangerous?”

A pause. Then: “Yes. It’s dangerous. But without the ritual…” Helena let the sentence trail off.

Anna closed her eyes and pressed Lukas closer to her. “What do I have to do?”

“Trust,” said Thomas from Erik’s other side. “Trust us. And pray. If you can.”

“I’m not religious.”

“You don’t have to be. Prayer is… hope given words. And we’ll need hope.”

They reached the bookstore shortly before midnight. The streets were empty, the city asleep. Only a few windows still glowed with light.

Marcus parked in a side alley. They got out quickly, alert. Erik felt eyes on him—unseen gazes from the darkness. The vampires were watching. He was sure of it.

“Quickly, inside,” Helena murmured.

They slipped to the bookstore door. The same knocking pattern: three times, pause, twice, once. The door opened immediately.

Yuki stood there, tablet in hand. “I’ve been researching the Council,” she said without greeting. “You need to see this.”

They went inside, past the shelves, through the curtain, down the spiral staircase. Anna followed hesitantly, clutching Lukas protectively, her eyes widening as she took in the underground complex.

“Where… where are we?” she whispered.

“Somewhere safe,” Helena replied. “That’s all that matters right now.”

They led Anna into a small room next to the conference room. A sofa, a blanket, a lamp. Spartan, but cozy.

“Rest,” Helena said. “We’ll prepare everything. The ritual will take several hours.”

“When?”

“Before sunrise. That’s important. The first light of day will strengthen our work.”

Anna nodded tiredly. She sat down on the sofa and laid Lukas beside her. The baby continued to sleep peacefully.

“Will he suffer?” Anna asked softly. “During the ritual?”

Thomas knelt beside her. “I’ll make sure he feels as little as possible. I promise.”

Anna looked at him, searching his face for deception, for false reassurance. But all she found was genuine compassion.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

They left Anna alone with her baby, closing the door quietly behind them.

In the conference room, Yuki was already waiting, her tablet projected onto the large monitor. Old texts, drawings, photographs filled the screen.

“What did you find?” Helena asked, dropping into a chair. She looked exhausted. The hunt, the confrontation—it had taken its toll.

“The Council of Elders,” Yuki began, tapping her tablet. The image changed to an old copper engraving. Seven figures around a table, all in robes, all with glowing eyes. “It’s first mentioned in the 12th century, in a manuscript from Constantinople. A gathering of the oldest vampires in Europe, founded sometime around… well, the sources disagree.”

“What don’t they disagree about?” Marcus muttered. He pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet and poured himself a glass. “Anyone?”

Erik nodded. His body was still tense, adrenaline coursing through him. The alcohol might help.

Marcus poured two glasses and handed one to Erik. “To your first hunt, Rookie. You did well.”

“I had no idea what I was doing,” Erik said, taking a sip. The whiskey burned, but pleasantly.

“None of us ever do,” Marcus said dryly. “We all improvise.”

“Marcus,” Helena admonished. “Not now.”

“What? It’s the truth.” Marcus leaned back. “But yeah, boss. Sorry.”

Yuki cleared her throat. “So, the Council. Some sources say it was founded to keep peace between vampire clans. To establish rules, divide territories. A kind of… vampire UN.”

“Sounds civilized,” Erik said.

“It sounds that way. It isn’t.” Yuki swiped to the next image: a faded medieval painting. A burning city, people fleeing, and above them all—shadows with red eyes. “Other sources claim the Council was founded with a different goal: world domination.”

“Of course,” Marcus sighed. “Why not.”

“The idea,” Yuki continued, “was to create a world where vampires no longer had to hide. A world where they were the dominant species. And humans…” She hesitated. “Humans would be livestock.”

Silence filled the room.

“That didn’t happen,” Erik said finally. “Obviously.”

“Because they were stopped,” Thomas said. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “In the 14th century, there was a war. Vampire against vampire. The Council tried to enforce its vision. But others resisted—those who believed vampires and humans could coexist without one enslaving the other.”

“Who won?” Erik asked.

“No one.” Thomas’s face was grave. “The war ended in a stalemate. The Council withdrew, went into hiding. For centuries they were silent. Some thought they’d been destroyed. But…” He gestured at Yuki’s screen. “They were just patient.”

Yuki switched to a more modern document. “In the last twenty years there have been rumors. Sightings. Meetings in Prague, Istanbul, Budapest. The Council is reforming. And this time…” She looked at Helena. “This time they’re more organized. Stronger. And they have a plan.”

“The Eternal Night,” Helena said. “Valentina mentioned it. They want to extinguish the sun.”

“How?” Marcus asked skeptically. “That’s impossible. Even with magic—the sun is… the sun.”

“Not the real sun,” Yuki explained. “Just the light over a city. It’s a ritual described in ancient grimoires. The ‘Great Dimming.’ If it’s performed at certain power sites, at the right time, with the right sacrifices…” She scrolled to a diagram. A map of Munich with marked points. “Then it might actually work.”

“How long?” Helena asked. “How long would the darkness last?”

“That’s unclear. Some texts say days. Others say… forever. Until the ritual is undone.”

“And how do you undo it?”

Yuki shook her head. “It’s not written anywhere. Presumably because no one who tried survived to record it.”

“Fantastic,” Marcus muttered.

Erik studied the map. “These points—what do they mean?”

“Ley lines,” Yuki replied. “Energy lines that run through the earth. Ancient cultures knew them, built sacred sites along them. Stonehenge, the pyramids, many cathedrals.” She pointed at the Munich map. “Munich lies at a nexus of several ley lines. That’s why the city was founded here. And why it’s perfect for the ritual.”

“Where exactly are these points?” Helena asked.

Yuki zoomed in. “Frauenkirche—that’s the center. Then Viktualienmarkt, the English Garden, the Isar at Ludwigsbrücke, and…” She stopped. “Nymphenburg Palace.”

“Where we just were,” Erik said.

“Exactly. The Council is already testing the sites. They’re preparing.”

Helena stood and walked to the map, touching the marked points. “When? When would they perform the ritual?”

“At the summer solstice,” Thomas said. “June 21st. The longest day of the year. When the sun is strongest, the darkness is also most powerful. The paradox of balance.”

“That’s…” Helena calculated. “Seven months.”

“Seven months to stop them,” Yuki confirmed.

“Or seven months for them to get stronger,” Marcus countered. “Valentina escaped tonight. She knows we’re aware now. The Council will prepare.”

“Then so will we.” Helena turned to Erik. “You did something extraordinary tonight. With the key. How did you do it?”

Erik looked at his hands. They were still trembling slightly. “I… I just thought about stopping them. And the key… reacted.”

“It reacted to your will,” Thomas said, stepping closer. “The Soul Key is not an ordinary tool. It’s an extension of its bearer. Your intention, your emotion—they flow into it.”

“Valentina said it opens souls,” Erik remembered. “What did she mean?”

Thomas and Helena exchanged a look.

“The key has two functions,” Thomas finally explained. “The obvious one: it opens doors, barriers, paths between worlds. But the second—more dangerous one…” He hesitated. “It also opens the soul of its bearer. Exposes it. Every time you use it, you give a piece of yourself to it.”

“And what happens if I give too much?”

“You become part of the key,” Thomas whispered. “Your soul, your consciousness—they become trapped within it. And the key becomes… more alive. More powerful. But you…” He let the sentence fade.

Erik felt a coldness spread in his chest. “I would disappear.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Erik looked at Helena, his voice sharper than he intended.

“Because you would have used it anyway,” Helena replied calmly. “To save the baby. And that was the right choice. But now you know. And now you have to make a choice, Erik.”

“What kind of choice?”

“Whether you continue to carry the key. Whether you’re willing to take that risk.” Helena stepped closer. “No one will blame you if you say no. We’ll find other ways. Other tools.”

Erik pulled the key from his pocket. The metal felt warm, almost alive. He could swear he felt a pulse—like a heartbeat.

He thought of Clara. Of the castle. Of the choice to go back when he could have fled.

Some choices were simple.

“I’ll keep it,” he said. “But I’ll be careful.”

Helena smiled faintly. “I hope so.”

“Good,” Marcus said, raising his glass. “Then we have a plan. Erik is our secret weapon. Yuki keeps researching the Council. Thomas prepares the ritual for the baby. And I…” He grinned. “I’ll get bigger guns.”

“And I,” Helena said, “will visit an old contact. Someone who might know more about the Council.”

“Who?” Yuki asked.

Helena hesitated. “Someone who was once part of it.”

Silence.

“You don’t mean—” Marcus began.

“Yes,” Helena said flatly. “I have to talk to my father.”

“Your father is dead,” Erik said, confused. “In the subway depot. Konstantin. You told us.”

“Konstantin is dead,” Helena confirmed. “But he wasn’t the only vampire in my family.”

She walked to one of the whiteboards and pulled down a photograph held by a magnet. An old black-and-white photo, yellowed at the edges. A family: a man, a woman, two children—a boy and a girl.

“This is my family,” Helena said quietly. “Taken in 1962. I was five years old. The girl.” She pointed to the small figure with dark hair and a serious face. “My brother Dimitri was eight. My parents—Konstantin and Maria.”

“What happened?” Erik asked.

“In 1970 my father disappeared. Just like that, one night. My mother said he was on a business trip. But he never came back.” Helena’s voice was controlled, but Erik could hear the pain beneath it. “Years later I learned the truth. He’d been turned. Became a vampire. And eventually… so did my brother.”

“Your brother,” Yuki repeated softly. “You never talked about him.”

“Because it hurts.” Helena put the photo back. “Dimitri was turned in 1985. At twenty-three. I tried—tried to save him, to bring him back. But he…” She shook her head. “He didn’t want to be saved. He embraced the darkness. Joined the Council.”

“And you think he’s still alive?” Thomas asked.

“I know he is. I saw him two years ago. In Vienna. Just briefly, from a distance. But it was him.” Helena’s hands clenched into fists. “If the Council is active in Munich, then Dimitri is here. Somewhere.”

“And you want to find him,” Erik said.

“I have to. He knows the Council’s plans. He could tell us exactly when they’ll perform the ritual, who’s involved.” Helena took a deep breath. “It’s a risk. But it might be our only chance.”

“He’s your brother,” Thomas said gently. “That makes it dangerous. Emotionally dangerous.”

“I know.” Helena looked at each of them in turn. “But I can do this. I have to.”

Marcus set his glass down. “Then we’re coming with you.”

“No. I have to do this alone. Dimitri would never talk to me if I showed up with a whole team.”

“Helena—”

“This isn’t negotiable, Marcus.” Helena’s voice was steel. “I’m going alone. But first…” She glanced toward the door behind which Anna and Lukas waited. “First, we save the baby.”

---

The next hours passed in preparation.

Thomas transformed one of the basement rooms into a ritual site. He drew symbols on the floor with chalk—complex geometric patterns threaded with Hebrew and Latin letters. In the corners he placed candles, thick white ones that smelled of incense.

Yuki prepared the required ingredients. Dried herbs—sage, rosemary, vervain. A small chalice of holy water from a well in Lourdes. And something that made Erik uneasy: a small silver blade.

“For the blood,” Yuki explained when she noticed his look. “The ritual requires three drops. One from the mother, one from the child, and…” She looked at Erik. “One from the bearer of the Soul Key.”

“From me?” Erik suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“The key is part of the ritual,” Thomas explained. “It will create the barrier that draws the darkness out of the child. But it needs a connection to you. Your blood will establish that connection.”

“And if something goes wrong?”

“Then the darkness will touch you as well.” Thomas looked at him seriously. “That’s why it’s important that you stay strong. Focused. The darkness will try to enter you. You must resist it.”

“How?”

“Think of something good. Of light. Of love.” Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have the strength, Erik. I saw it tonight. Trust yourself.”

Erik nodded, trying to feel the confidence Thomas radiated. But all he felt was fear.

By four in the morning, everything was ready.

They brought Anna and Lukas. The baby was awake now, but calm, looking around with wide eyes.

“Will it hurt?” Anna asked for the third time.

“Only briefly,” Thomas assured her. “And then it will be over.”

They laid Lukas in the center of the circle on a soft blanket. Anna knelt beside him, holding his tiny hand.

Erik took his place opposite, the Soul Key in his hand. Helena, Marcus, and Yuki stood outside the circle—observers, protectors.

Thomas began to chant. Ancient words, in a language Erik didn’t understand. Latin, perhaps—or older. The air in the room changed, growing dense, heavy.

The candles flickered, though there was no draft.

Thomas picked up the silver blade. “Anna. Your hand.”

Anna held out her hand, trembling. Thomas moved quickly, making a small cut on her fingertip. Three drops of blood fell into the chalice of holy water.

Then he turned to Lukas. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

He pricked the baby’s finger. Lukas cried—short, sharp. Three drops fell into the chalice.

“Erik.”

Erik extended his hand. The blade was cold, sharp. The cut was quick but painful. Three drops of blood joined the others.

The water began to glow. Faintly at first, then brighter—a golden light.

Thomas raised the chalice over Lukas. “In the name of the light older than darkness. In the name of the lives that outlast sacrifice. In the name of love stronger than death.” He poured the glowing water over Lukas’s forehead. “I command the darkness: leave this child!”

Lukas screamed again. This time, it didn’t stop.

The air in the room turned icy. Erik saw his breath, saw the others shivering.

And then he saw it.

From Lukas’s body, from the wounds on his neck, something began to seep out. Not blood. Something darker. A black, oily substance that writhed as if alive.

“The key!” Thomas shouted. “Now, Erik!”

Erik raised the Soul Key. It began to glow instantly, brighter than ever before. Light poured from it, filling the room, striking the darkness.

The black substance hissed like water on hot metal. It tried to retreat back into Lukas’s body, but the light held it, dragged it out.

“Resist it!” Thomas’s voice was barely audible over Lukas’s screams. “Don’t let it return!”

Erik focused. But the darkness had a voice. It whispered in his mind.

Let go, it said. Let us return. The child belongs to us.

“No,” Erik forced out.

You are weak. You are alone. You cannot defeat us.

“I am not alone.”

He saw Anna bent over her son, tears on her cheeks, but her face full of determination.

He saw Thomas, praying relentlessly, his voice an anchor in the chaos.

He saw Helena, Marcus, Yuki—all ready to fight, to protect.

And he thought of Clara. Of her smile, just before she died. Of her words: For all of us.

The light from the key exploded.

The darkness screamed—a high, piercing sound that made Erik’s ears ring. Then it dissolved into smoke, into nothing.

Lukas’s screaming stopped.

Silence.

The baby breathed. Calmly. Evenly.

The wounds on his neck were gone. Only smooth, pink baby skin remained.

His eyes opened. Brown. Normal. Human.

Anna sobbed and pulled Lukas into her arms, holding him tight.

“It’s over,” Thomas said softly. “He’s free.”

Erik lowered the key. His hands shook so badly he almost dropped it.

Helena caught both the key and Erik, who suddenly felt very weak.

“You did it,” she whispered. “Well done.”

Erik smiled faintly. Then everything went black.

---

He woke up in one of the small rooms, on a narrow bed. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious.

Helena sat beside the bed, reading an old book.

“Welcome back,” she said when she noticed he was awake.

“How long?” Erik croaked.

“Three hours. The sun is up.” Helena set the book aside. “How do you feel?”

“Drained.” Erik sat up slowly. His body felt like he hadn’t slept in a week. “The baby?”

“Healthy. Completely healthy. Anna went home with him. Marcus and Yuki are accompanying her, making sure no one follows.”

“And the darkness? Is it really gone?”

“Thomas checked. Yes. Lukas is a normal baby. He’ll have a normal life.” Helena smiled. “You saved a life, Erik. Your first as part of the Night Watch.”

“It doesn’t feel like a victory,” Erik said quietly. “Valentina escaped. The Council is still out there.”

“That’s true. But tonight we proved they’re not invincible. That we can stop them.” Helena stood. “Rest a bit more. When you’re ready, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

“What?”

“Your new home. If you want to stay, of course.”

Erik thought about it. His old life—the apartment, the job, the normalcy. It felt like a dream now, like something that belonged to someone else.

This—the Night Watch, the hunt, the darkness—this felt real.

“I’ll stay,” he said.

Helena smiled. A real, warm smile. “Then welcome to the family, Erik Schönwaldt.”

She left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Erik lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, processing everything.

His life had changed. Irrevocably.

But maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was exactly what he needed.

A purpose. A mission.

A chance to do something good.

He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

And this time there were no nightmares.

Only darkness.

Peaceful, silent darkness.

CHAPTER 6
The Bait

Erik woke up for the second time when someone knocked on the door.
“Yes?” His voice was still hoarse.

The door opened. Marcus stood there, dressed in black combat gear, a mug of coffee in his hand.
“Up, rookie. Time for training.”

Erik glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:47 p.m. He’d slept almost the entire day.
“Training?”

“You didn’t think we’d just throw you out on the street, did you?” Marcus grinned. “Helena may like you, but I’m the one who has to keep you alive. And for that, you need to learn how to fight.”

“I can fight.”

“You can hold a glowing key,” Marcus corrected. “That’s not the same thing. Come on. Put on something comfortable. We’ve got an hour before the real work begins.”

“What kind of work?”

Marcus’s grin widened. “We’re going hunting.”

---

Twenty minutes later, Erik stood in one of the basement rooms that had been converted into a training area. Mats on the floor, punching bags along the walls, a rack full of weapons—knives, staffs, even a few swords.

Marcus tossed him a wooden sword. Erik caught it, surprised by its weight.
“Too heavy?” Marcus asked.

“No. Just… I’ve never fought with a sword before.”

“Then it’s time you learned.” Marcus took a wooden sword himself and moved into an attack stance. “Rule number one: vampires are faster than you. Much faster. You won’t outmatch them head-on.”

“Comforting.”

“Rule number two: they’re arrogant. They underestimate humans. That’s your advantage.” Marcus circled him. “Rule number three: aim for the limbs. Slow them down. A vampire without legs is just as helpless as a human.”

“And the heart? A stake through the heart?”

“Works. But only if you get close enough. And if they let you get that close, you’re probably already dead.” Marcus stopped. “Ready?”

“I—”

Marcus attacked.

Erik parried on instinct, his wooden sword crashing against Marcus’s. The impact made his arms vibrate.
“Good!” Marcus shouted. “But too slow!”

He attacked again, faster. Erik dodged, tried to counter, but Marcus was everywhere. Left, right—a blow to Erik’s ribs.

Erik stumbled and went down.
“Dead,” Marcus said. “Get up.”

Erik scrambled to his feet, panting.

They trained for a full hour. Every time Erik thought he was getting the rhythm, Marcus changed tactics. Attacked from unexpected angles. Used dirty tricks—sweeps, elbows, headbutts.

“Vampires don’t fight fair,” Marcus explained after knocking Erik down for the tenth time. “Why should you?”

By the end of the hour, Erik was drenched in sweat, bruised in places he hadn’t known could bruise, and his muscles burned.

But he felt… good. Alive.

“Not bad for your first day,” Marcus said, handing him a towel. “You’ve got instincts. That’s good. But instincts aren’t enough. You need discipline.”

“When do we train again?”

“Every day. Two hours.” Marcus clapped him on the shoulder—harder than necessary. “Welcome to hell, rookie.”

They went back to the conference room. The others were already there.

Helena stood in front of the map of Munich, marking something with a red pen. Yuki typed on her tablet. Thomas sat at the table, hands folded, eyes closed—praying or meditating.

“Status?” Marcus asked.

Helena turned around. “We have a problem. Or rather—we have no lead.”

“What do you mean?”

“Valentina. The other vampires from last night. They’ve vanished. Completely off the radar.” Helena sounded frustrated. “I activated all our sources—informants, surveillance cameras, everything. Nothing.”

“They’ve gone into hiding,” Yuki said. “After the incident in the park, they know we’re hunting them. They’ll be more careful.”

“Too careful,” Marcus muttered. “We need a new approach.”

“That’s why I called you.” Helena went to the table and spread out several photos. Surveillance images from different places in Munich—bars, clubs, dark alleys. “Vampires have to hunt. They can’t survive for months without blood. If they stay in Munich, they’ll strike eventually.”

“And we wait until they kill again?” Erik shook his head. “We can’t do that.”

“We won’t.” Helena looked at him. “That’s why we’re setting bait.”

Silence filled the room.

“You mean…” Yuki began.

“Yes. We give them a target. Someone who looks tempting. Vulnerable. Alone.” Helena’s gaze shifted to Marcus. “Someone they won’t be able to resist.”

Marcus leaned back, crossing his arms. “You want me to play decoy.”

“You’re the most experienced. If something goes wrong—”

“It won’t.” Marcus suddenly grinned. “I’ve done this before. Berlin, three years ago. It worked then.”

“And you were almost killed,” Yuki reminded him.

“But only almost.” Marcus winked at her. “Besides, I’ve gotten smarter since then.”

“I doubt that,” Yuki muttered, but she smiled.

Erik stepped closer to the photos. “Where would we do this?”

“Glockenbach district,” Helena replied. “A hotspot for Munich nightlife. Lots of people, lots of bars. Perfect for vampires looking to hunt. And…” She pointed at one of the photos. “It lies on one of the ley lines. If the Council wants to act, they’ll show up there sooner or later.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Erik stared at her. “That fast?”

“The longer we wait, the more time they have to organize.” Helena’s voice was firm. “We need to apply pressure. Lure them out of hiding.”

“And if they don’t come?”

“Then we try again tomorrow. And the day after.” Helena looked at each of them. “That’s our job. Patience and endurance. We don’t give up.”

Thomas opened his eyes. “Who will accompany Marcus? As backup?”

“Erik,” Helena said.

Everyone stared at her.

“Me?” Erik shook his head. “I’ve just started training. An hour ago I didn’t even know how to hold a sword!”

“That’s why you won’t fight.” Helena went to a cabinet and took something out—a pair of headphones connected to a small device. “You’ll observe. From a rooftop, with binoculars. You’re our eyes. If you see anything, you tell us over the radio.”

“I can do that.”

“And you have the Soul Key.” Helena handed him the device. “If something goes wrong—if Marcus is in danger—you use it. Create a barrier. Hold the vampires back until we can intervene.”

“And if I don’t manage in time?”

“Then Marcus dies.” Helena’s voice was cold. Realistic. “That’s why you have to stay focused. No mistakes.”

Erik swallowed. The weight of responsibility pressed down on his shoulders.
“I understand.”

“Good.” Helena turned to the others. “Yuki, you stay here and coordinate via the cameras. Thomas, you’re coming with me. We’re the second team—nearby, ready to step in.”

“Weapons?” Marcus asked.

“Light. Pistols, knives. Nothing that draws attention.” Helena glanced at her watch. “We move out in an hour. Get ready.”

---

Erik spent the next hour assembling his gear.

Yuki helped him. She showed him how to use the radio, how to adjust the night-vision binoculars, how to conceal a small pistol—“for emergencies only,” she emphasized.

And then there was the key.

Erik took it from his pocket and placed it on the table between him and Yuki.
“Does it scare you?” Yuki asked quietly.

“Yes,” Erik admitted. “Thomas said it could devour my soul if I use it too often.”

“That’s possible.” Yuki touched the key carefully, with just one finger. “But there are safeguards.”

“What kind of safeguards?”

She went to a shelf and took out a small box. Inside were several thin bracelets made of braided metal.
“Silver, threaded with iron,” she explained. “Both metals have protective properties against dark magic. If you wear this, the key will seep into you more slowly.”

“More slowly. Not not at all.”

“Nothing can protect you completely, Erik. But this buys you time. Increases your chances.” Yuki took one bracelet and fastened it around his wrist. It felt cool, calming.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I don’t want you to end up like…” She trailed off.

“Like who?”

Yuki hesitated. “The last bearer of the Soul Key. Twenty years ago. A man named Jakob Stein. He was… brave. Strong. But he used the key too often. Too recklessly.” She looked away. “One day we found him. He was holding the key, but he… he wasn’t there anymore. His body was empty. As if someone had sucked his soul out.”

A chill ran down Erik’s spine. “What did you do with him?”

“We buried him. With the key.” Yuki looked at him. “But three months later, the key appeared again. Near Falkenstein Castle. As if it had been searching for a new bearer.”

“Me.”

“You.” Yuki placed her hand over his. “Be careful, Erik. The key is powerful—but it’s also hungry. Don’t feed it too much.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

---

They set out at 10:00 p.m.

Two cars again. Marcus and Erik in the first, an unremarkable Toyota. Helena and Thomas in the second, a dark Mercedes.

The drive to Glockenbach took fifteen minutes. The streets were crowded despite the cold November night. People streamed into bars, restaurants, clubs. Laughing, celebrating, living.

Unaware of what lurked in the shadows.

Marcus parked in a side alley. “Your vantage point is over there.” He pointed to a four-story building with a flat roof. “Fire escape. You know the way?”

Erik nodded. They had studied the route on a map.
“Good. Yuki’s on channel three. Helena and Thomas on channel two. I’m on channel one.” Marcus handed him a small radio. “Stay in the shadows. Don’t move unless it’s absolutely necessary. And if you see something—”

“I’ll report it immediately.”

“Exactly.” Marcus looked at him, his face serious now. “And Erik? If things escalate—if it gets too dangerous—run. Understood? We don’t need dead heroes.”

“Understood.”

They got out. The cold air hit Erik’s face, sharpening his senses.

Marcus headed toward the busiest street. He had swapped his combat gear for jeans and a leather jacket, looking like any other Munich local heading out for the night.

Erik went the other way, found the fire escape, and climbed up.

The roof was flat, covered in gravel. Ventilation shafts rose like sculptures. Erik positioned himself behind one, with a clear view of the street below.

He took out the binoculars and switched on night vision. The world turned green—but sharper.

“Position secured,” he whispered into the radio.

“Copy,” Yuki’s voice replied. “Cameras are online. I see you.”

“Marcus?”

“On my way to the bar,” Marcus’s voice came back, accompanied by background noise—music, voices. “I’m ordering a drink. Then the show begins.”

Erik watched. The street below was a river of people—groups of friends, couples, lone figures.

Which of them were human? Which were… something else?

“Yuki,” Erik whispered. “What am I looking for? How do I spot a vampire?”

“Movement patterns,” Yuki replied. “They move differently. More fluid. And they avoid large groups. Prefer to hunt singles.”

“How long does it usually take?”

“Sometimes minutes. Sometimes hours. Sometimes not at all.” Yuki’s voice was calm. “Be patient.”

Erik was patient. He sat there, motionless, watching.

Half an hour passed. Marcus drank his drink, ordered a second. Played the role of the slightly drunk man perfectly.

An hour. People came and went. Bars filled up, emptied, filled again.

“Anything?” Helena asked over the radio.

“Negative,” Erik replied.

“Stay sharp.”

Another thirty minutes. Erik felt the cold now, creeping through his jacket. His legs grew stiff from crouching.

And then he saw her.

A woman. Young, maybe twenty-five. Long dark hair, a red dress glowing in the neon light. She stood at the edge of the street, away from the crowd, watching.

Her movements were too smooth. Too precise. And her eyes—even through the binoculars, Erik could see them glowing. Just faintly, but unmistakably.

“Contact,” Erik whispered. “Female, red dress, south end of the street.”

“Confirmed,” Yuki said. “Camera twenty-three has her too. That’s not Valentina, but definitely a vampire.”

“Marcus,” Helena said. “Leave the bar. Slowly. Head south.”

“Copy.”

Erik watched as Marcus stepped out of the bar, swaying slightly—perfect acting. He walked down the street alone, vulnerable.

The woman in the red dress noticed him.

Her posture changed. From observing to… predatory.

She began to follow him.

“She’s on him,” Erik whispered. His heartbeat quickened.

“I see her,” Marcus’s calm voice replied. “Keeping her distance?”

“No. She’s closing in. Twenty meters. Fifteen.”

Marcus turned into a darker side alley. Perfect—fewer witnesses, more shadows.

The woman followed.

“Ten meters,” Erik said.

“We’re moving in,” Helena said. “Thomas and I, eastern access.”

“I’m ready,” Marcus said.

The woman suddenly accelerated—not running, but faster than any human should walk.

Five meters.

Marcus turned around, as if he’d just noticed her. “Oh—sorry, did I scare you?”

The woman smiled. Even from above, Erik could see her teeth. Too white. Too sharp.
“No,” she said, her voice melodic. “I’m just lonely. How about some company?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way to—”

She attacked.

Faster than Erik could follow. One second she was two meters away; the next she had Marcus by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

“You smell interesting,” she hissed. “Not just human. Something… more.”

Marcus grinned. “So do you, sweetheart.”

He drove a silver knife into her shoulder.

The woman screamed, let go, staggered back. Steam rose from the wound where the silver touched her flesh.
“You dare—”

Helena and Thomas burst in from the eastern access. Helena had her pistol drawn; Thomas swung a silver chain like a whip.

The vampire looked from one to the other, realization dawning—she was surrounded.
“Trap,” she hissed.

“Smart girl,” Marcus said.

She jumped.

Not at them—upward. Up the wall, inhumanly fast, her fingers finding purchase on tiny ledges.

“She’s heading for the roof!” Yuki shouted in Erik’s ear.

Erik turned—just in time.

The vampire landed on the roof, ten meters away from him.

Her eyes locked onto him immediately, glowing red.
“An observer,” she said. “How sweet.”

Erik reached for the Soul Key.

But the vampire was faster.

She crossed the distance in a heartbeat, her hand closing around Erik’s throat, lifting him off the ground.
“Drop the key,” she hissed. “Or I snap your neck.”

Erik couldn’t breathe. His fingers clawed at her hand, trying to pry it loose, but she was like stone.

“Erik!” Helena’s voice came through the radio, desperate.

The vampire leaned closer. “You have something that belongs to us. Something old. Something powerful.” Her eyes fixed on the key in Erik’s hand. “Give it to me.”

Erik’s vision blurred. Lack of oxygen. Seconds before he would lose consciousness.

He thought of Clara. Of the baby. Of everything he had fought for.

And he did the only thing he could.

He activated the key.

Light exploded outward. Not focused like during the ritual, but wild and uncontrolled.

The vampire screamed, released him, staggered back. Her face was burned where the light had hit her.

Erik hit the ground, gasping for air.

The barrier formed—a ring of light holding the vampire at bay.

She snarled, tried to break through, but the light held.

“You will die, hunter,” she hissed. “You and everyone you love. The Council is coming. The eternal night is coming. And no one will save you.”

Then she jumped—off the roof, four stories down.

Erik crawled to the edge and looked down.

The vampire hit the street, rolled, and ran. Vanished into the shadows before Helena or Thomas could reach her.

“Erik!” Marcus came rushing up the fire escape. “Are you okay?”

Erik nodded, still struggling for breath. His throat hurt; there would be bruises.

But he was alive.

“She got away,” he rasped.

“That doesn’t matter.” Marcus helped him up. “You survived. That’s what counts.”

Helena and Thomas reached the roof. Helena’s face was pale.
“Erik, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” Erik’s voice was rough. “We learned what we needed to know.”

“What’s that?” Thomas asked.

“They know about the key.” Erik held up the still-glowing key. “They want it. And they’ll come back to get it.”

Helena and Marcus exchanged a look.

“Then we have a bigger problem,” Helena said quietly.

“Why?” Erik asked.

“Because,” Marcus said, “if the Council gets their hands on the Soul Key, they can do more than just extinguish the sun.”

“Then what?”

“They can open the gates of hell,” Thomas replied. “And bring back everything that ever died.”

The words hung in the cold night air.

Erik looked down at the key in his hand.

The responsibility he carried had just become much heavier.

“Then,” he said quietly, “we should make sure they never get it.”

Helena nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

They left the roof, back to the cars, back to the safety of headquarters.

But Erik knew: real safety no longer existed.

Not as long as the Council was in Munich.
Not as long as he carried the Soul Key.

The war had only just begun.

CHAPTER 7
The DNA Trail

The drive back to headquarters was tense. Erik sat in the back of the Mercedes, gripping the Soul Key tightly, while Helena drove and Thomas sat beside her in silence. His throat still hurt where the vampire had grabbed him. He could feel the imprint of her fingers, burned into his skin.

“You could have died,” Helena finally said. Her voice was controlled, but Erik heard the tension beneath it.

“But I didn’t.”

“Only because you were lucky.”

“Or because the key protected me.” Erik looked down at the artifact. It was still glowing faintly, a pulsing golden light. “It knew I was in danger.”

“The key is not a living being,” Thomas said quietly. “It reacts to you. To your fear, your will to survive. But it has no will of its own.”

“Are you sure?”

Thomas remained silent.

They reached the bookstore. Marcus was already there, having parked the Toyota in the garage. He was waiting by the door, a bloody scratch on his cheek.

“She got you,” Erik remarked.

“Just a scratch.” Marcus waved it off. “But she was fast. Faster than most I’ve seen.”

“And she knew about the key,” Helena said as they descended the spiral staircase. “That’s the most disturbing part. The Council has information about us.”

“Or they guessed what Erik is carrying,” Thomas said. “The Soul Key is a legend in the vampire world. If they see a human fighting with a glowing artifact, they draw their conclusions.”

In the conference room, Yuki was already waiting for them. She had activated several monitors, all showing different recordings of the incident. On one screen, the vampire could be seen enlarged, her face captured at the moment just before she attacked.

“I ran her through our database,” Yuki said without greeting. “No hits in Europe. But…” She typed, and the image changed to an old black-and-white photograph. “This is from 1923. Budapest. A series of murders. Authorities found twelve bodies, all drained of blood.”

In the photo stood a woman in an old-fashioned dress. The face was blurred, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

“That’s her?” Erik asked.

“I’m ninety percent sure.” Yuki zoomed in on the face. “The facial structure matches. If it’s her, she’s at least a hundred years old.”

“Old enough to be powerful,” Marcus muttered.

“But not old enough to be on the Council,” Helena said. “The Elders are thousands of years old. She’s probably a servant. An enforcer.”

“One of many,” Thomas added. “If the Council really has come to Munich, they’ve brought an army.”

“Then we need to find out how big that army is.” Helena turned to Yuki. “What did we get from tonight? Any traces?”

“Better than traces.” Yuki gave a thin smile. “Marcus injured her. When she fled, she bled. I sent teams to the alley. They collected samples.”

“Blood samples?” Erik’s interest was piqued. “What can we do with those?”

“More than you think.” Yuki stood and motioned them toward another room. “Come. I’ll show you.”

They walked down a corridor, deeper into headquarters. Yuki opened a door with a keypad. Inside was a lab.

It was small but highly modern. Centrifuges, microscopes, computers with multiple screens. Along one wall stood a large refrigerator, likely for samples.

“Welcome to my domain,” Yuki said. She went to one of the computers and logged in. “When I joined the Night Watch, I insisted that we work scientifically. Myths and legends are all well and good, but DNA doesn’t lie.”

“Do vampires have DNA?” Erik asked.

“Yes and no.” Yuki pulled on gloves and took a Petri dish from a small fridge next to the computer. Inside was a dark, almost black liquid—the vampire’s blood. “Their blood is different from human blood. The red blood cells are mutated, able to transport oxygen more efficiently. And there are… additives.”

“Additives?”

Yuki placed a drop of the blood on a slide and slid it under a microscope. She typed, and the image appeared on one of the monitors.

Erik stared at it.

The blood was moving. Not like normal blood, sluggish and thick. But alive, as if tiny organisms were swimming inside it, writhing.

“What is that?” he whispered.

“That is the vampiric essence,” Yuki explained. “A virus, a parasite, a curse—no one knows exactly what it is. But it alters the human body on a fundamental level. Increases strength, speed, senses. Stops aging. And creates… well, a vampire.”

“Can it be cured?” Thomas asked. “If it’s a virus, is there a cure?”

“Theoretically, yes. Practically…” Yuki shook her head. “Once the transformation is complete, the virus is so deeply integrated that removing it would kill the host. That’s why the ritual only works on children like Lukas—because the transformation wasn’t complete yet.”

“But you can analyze the blood,” Helena said. “What are you looking for?”

“DNA markers. Every vampire clan has unique genetic signatures. Like fingerprints.” Yuki began typing, data filling the screen. “If I can identify this vampire’s signature, we can find out which clan she belongs to. And maybe…” She hesitated. “Maybe who created her.”

“How long will that take?” Marcus asked.

“The initial analysis is already done. I ran it through the database while you were driving back.” Yuki opened a file. “And I found something interesting.”

She zoomed in on a section of the DNA sequence. To Erik, it looked like random letters and numbers, but Yuki’s eyes lit up.

“This,” she said, pointing at a sequence, “matches another sample in our database.”

“Which sample?” Helena asked.

Yuki opened a second window. It showed information about a case. Berlin, three years ago. A vampire attack in a subway station. Five dead. The vampire escaped, but left blood behind.

“It’s the same clan,” Yuki said. “The genetic markers match at ninety-eight percent.”

“What does that mean?” Erik asked.

“It means,” Helena said slowly, “that the vampire who killed in Berlin three years ago and the vampire who attacked Marcus tonight are either related—or descended from the same creator.”

“And look at this.” Yuki scrolled on. “I expanded the database to include international cases. Budapest, Prague, Vienna—over the last ten years there have been similar incidents in all of these cities. And the DNA traces…” She pointed to a graphic, lines connecting different cities. “They all originate from the same source.”

“A family tree,” Thomas whispered. “A vampire family tree.”

“Exactly.” Yuki enlarged the graphic. “And if I trace the development backward, I arrive at an origin point. A source.”

She typed. The image zoomed in on a marker, and a name appeared.

Origin: Budapest, 1891.
Primary source: Unknown.
Codename: The Eldest.

Silence filled the lab.

“The Eldest,” Helena repeated. “That’s the leader of the Council. It has to be her.”

“If all these vampires descend from her,” Marcus said slowly, “how many has she created?”

“Hard to say. But based on the cases we’ve documented…” Yuki calculated. “At least fifty. Possibly more.”

“Fifty vampires,” Erik whispered. “All spread across Europe.”

“Not anymore.” Helena stepped closer to the screen. “Yuki, overlay the map with current sightings. Show me where these vampires are now.”

Yuki typed. The map changed, new markers appeared—and a pattern became visible.

All the markers were concentrated on one city.

Munich.

“They’re coming together,” Thomas whispered. “They’re gathering.”

“For the summer solstice,” Helena said. “For the ritual.”

“But why so early?” Marcus asked. “That’s still seven months away. Why are they coming now?”

“Preparation,” Yuki replied. “A ritual of that magnitude takes time. They need to activate the ley lines, prepare the sites, gather sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices,” Erik repeated. His stomach tightened. “The five dead. Those weren’t just random hunts.”

“No.” Helena’s face was grim. “They were tests. They’re collecting blood, testing resonance, preparing the victims.”

“But there’s more,” Yuki said. She opened another file. “When I analyzed the vampire’s blood sample, I found traces of something else. Not vampiric. Not human.”

She zoomed in on the image. Between the vampiric cells were tiny, almost invisible particles.

“What is that?” Erik asked.

“I don’t know exactly. But…” Yuki hesitated. “It looks like infant blood.”

The words made the temperature in the room drop.

“Lukas,” Helena whispered. “She was at Lukas.”

“Or at other babies,” Yuki said. “I checked the database of Munich hospitals. Neonatal wards. In the last three weeks, there have been seven incidents like the one at the hospital on the right bank of the Isar. Babies with unexplained wounds on their necks. All dismissed as insect bites.”

“Seven babies,” Thomas said, his voice nearly breaking. “My God.”

“We saved Lukas,” Helena said quickly. “We can save the others too.”

“Can we?” Marcus sounded skeptical. “We had a lead with Lukas. The mother posted online. But if the other families stay quiet, if they don’t say anything…”

“Then we have to find them.” Helena turned to Yuki. “I need a list. All infants treated in Munich hospitals in the last three weeks for unexplained wounds. Names, addresses—everything.”

“That’s illegal,” Yuki said. “Data protection—”

“Yuki.” Helena’s voice was sharp. “This is about children. About babies being turned into vampires. Do you really think I care about data protection right now?”

Yuki swallowed, then nodded. “I can hack the databases. It’ll take a few hours, but I’ll get the list.”

“Good. Do it.” Helena took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Marcus, you and Thomas prepare the equipment. If we’re visiting these families, we need to be ready to perform the ritual multiple times.”

“Do we have enough supplies?” Thomas asked.

“We’ll have to.” Helena turned to Erik. “And you—”

“I’m coming with you,” Erik said immediately.

“Erik, you were almost killed tonight—”

“And I’m still alive. And I have the key. If you have to perform multiple rituals, you’ll need me.” Erik’s voice was firm. “Besides—the vampire knew about the key. The Council won’t stop looking for it. Wherever I am, I’m a target. So I might as well be useful.”

Helena looked at him for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. “All right. But you follow my orders. No going off on your own.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” Helena turned toward the door. “We have until dawn. Yuki gets the list. The rest of us prepare. And then…” She looked at each of them. “Then we save those children.”

They left the lab. Only Yuki stayed behind, already absorbed in her computers again.

Erik followed the others back to the conference room. His body was exhausted, but his mind raced. Seven babies. Seven tiny lives being twisted into darkness.

And somewhere out there: the Eldest. The woman who had planned all of this. Who had turned hundreds—maybe thousands.

“Helena,” Erik said suddenly. “You said you want to find your brother. Dimitri.”

Helena stopped and turned around. “Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon. But first the children.” Her eyes were tired. “I can’t… I can’t think about my brother while innocent lives are at stake.”

“But he could help us. He might know where the Eldest is, what she’s planning.”

“Or he could kill us.” Helena’s voice was bitter. “Dimitri is no longer the brother I knew. He’s been a vampire for forty years. He’s killed, hunted, done things that…” She broke off. “I don’t know if I can still trust him.”

“But you have to try.”

“Yes.” Helena smiled faintly. “I have to try.”

---

The next hours passed in feverish activity.

Thomas turned another basement room into a ritual site, preparing everything for multiple ceremonies. Marcus organized the equipment—more holy water, more candles, more silver blades.

And Erik practiced.

Alone in the small training room, he worked with the Soul Key. Tried to control it, to summon the light deliberately instead of in wild panic.

It was harder than he had thought.

The key reacted to emotion. To fear and desperation. But when Erik tried to activate it calmly, nothing happened.

“You’re thinking too much,” a voice said behind him.

Erik turned. Thomas stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

“What do you mean?”

“The key isn’t a machine. It’s a connection. Between you and…” Thomas searched for words. “Something greater. A source. You can’t control it through sheer will. You have to feel it.”

“Feel it?”

“Trust it. Let it flow into you instead of trying to force it.” Thomas stepped closer. “May I?”

Erik nodded.

Thomas placed his hand over Erik’s, which was holding the key. “Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Feel the metal. The warmth. The pulsing.”

Erik obeyed. The metal was warm, almost hot. And there was a rhythm—like a heartbeat, just as he had felt before.

“Now imagine that this heartbeat is yours,” Thomas said softly. “That you are one. Not bearer and tool. But partners.”

Erik focused. The heartbeat of the key, his own heartbeat—they merged, became one.

And the key began to glow.

Softly. Controlled. A warm, golden light.

“Good,” Thomas whispered. “Now hold it. Breathe with it.”

Erik held it. The light remained stable. Not wild like in panic, not explosive. Just… there.

“How long can I hold this?” Erik asked.

“That depends on you. On your strength. Your concentration.” Thomas let go. “But be careful. The longer you keep it active, the more of yourself you pour into it.”

Erik opened his eyes and let the light fade. “Thank you.”

“No need.” Thomas smiled. “You’re learning quickly. That’s good. You’ll need it.”

---

At 5:30 a.m., Yuki emerged from her lab.

She looked exhausted but triumphant. In her hand was a printout—several pages.

“I’ve got them,” she said, placing the papers on the conference table. “Seven families. All with infants treated in the last three weeks for unexplained wounds.”

Helena took the list and skimmed it. “Names, addresses, everything here?”

“Everything.” Yuki sat down and rubbed her eyes. “But there’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“The Berger family—Lukas—isn’t the only one where we might be too late.” Yuki pointed to one of the names. “Look at this case. Sophie Hartmann. Eight weeks old. First wound six weeks ago.”

Erik froze. “Hartmann? Like the woman from forensics? Sophie Hartmann?”

“The daughter,” Yuki said quietly. “Sophie Hartmann—the student we saw in forensics—she had a younger sister. A baby. And both were attacked.”

“My God.” Helena let the papers fall. “The vampire didn’t just kill the student. She also infected the baby.”

“Where is the baby now?” Marcus asked.

Yuki scrolled on her tablet. “With the grandmother. The parents are dead—both in a car accident two weeks ago.”

“An accident?” Thomas sounded skeptical. “Or was there help involved?”

“Hard to say. But the timeline fits.” Yuki looked up. “If the baby has been infected for six weeks…”

“Then the transformation is almost complete,” Thomas finished. “We may only have days. Maybe only hours.”

“Then we start with this family.” Helena stood up. “Yuki, give me the address.”

“Bogenhausen. Not far from here.”

“Good. Marcus, Thomas, Erik—with me. Yuki, you stay here and coordinate. If anything goes wrong—”

“I call for backup. I know.” Yuki nodded.

They set off as the first light of dawn colored the sky.

The city was waking up. People were going to work, cafés were opening, life went on.

But for the Hartmann family—for little baby Sophie—a clock was ticking.

And time was running out.

CHAPTER 8
At the Hartmann Family’s Home

The address in Bogenhausen led them to a quiet residential street with manicured gardens and large villas. Old trees lined the road, their bare branches reaching into the gray morning sky like skeletons.

“Number twenty-seven,” Helena said, pointing to a white house with dark green shutters. A Mercedes sat in the driveway; the front garden was immaculate, even in November.

“Affluent area,” Marcus remarked. “How do we explain to a wealthy grandmother that her grandchild was bitten by a vampire?”

“Carefully,” Helena replied as she parked along the curb. “And honestly. Sometimes the truth works better than lies.”

“Sometimes,” Marcus muttered skeptically.

They got out. The air was cold, damp with night dew. Erik pulled his jacket tighter around himself. The Soul Key hung heavy in his pocket—a constant weight, a constant reminder.

Helena rang the bell. A melodic chime sounded somewhere inside the house.

They waited. Erik could hear his own heartbeat, too loud, too fast.

The door opened a crack. A woman peered out—late sixties, gray hair cut into an elegant bob. She wore a silk robe and looked at them with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Hartmann?” Helena flashed an ID, too quickly for the woman to really read it. “My name is Dr. Konstantin. I’m with the public health office. It’s about your granddaughter Sophie.”

Confusion turned to alarm. “Sophie? What about her? Has something happened?”

“May we come in? It’s important.”

Mrs. Hartmann hesitated, but the seriousness in Helena’s face convinced her. She opened the door fully. “Of course. Please.”

They entered a spacious foyer. Marble floors, a chandelier overhead, artwork on the walls. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air.

“My granddaughter,” Mrs. Hartmann said nervously. “She’s healthy. The doctors said—”

“We know what the doctors said,” Helena replied gently but firmly. “But we believe there’s more to it. Something regular medicine can’t detect.”

“I don’t understand.”

“May we see Sophie?”

Mrs. Hartmann led them down a long hallway to a room on the ground floor. She opened the door quietly. “She’s still sleeping. She always sleeps late in the morning since… since the incident.”

The room was set up as a makeshift nursery. A playpen in the corner, a changing table against the wall. And in a small travel crib: a baby.

Erik stepped closer. His stomach tightened.

The baby—Sophie—was tiny, barely eight weeks old. But her skin had that translucent quality Erik recognized from Lukas. Too pale, almost gray. The small veins beneath her skin were far too visible, like a dark web.

And on her neck: the wounds. Two punctures, larger than Lukas’s, deeper. The skin around them was darkened, almost black.

“How long has she had these wounds?” Thomas asked softly.

“Six weeks,” Mrs. Hartmann replied. She stood in the doorway, her hands trembling slightly. “The doctors said they were insect bites. But they don’t heal. And Sophie…” Her voice broke. “She behaves so strangely. She only sleeps during the day. At night she’s awake, screaming. And her appetite… she doesn’t want normal milk anymore.”

“What does she want?” Helena asked, though Erik could see she already knew the answer.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.” Mrs. Hartmann looked away, ashamed. “One night, while I was making her bottle, I cut myself. On my finger. A few drops of blood fell in. And Sophie…” She swallowed. “She drank. For the first time in days. And since then… since then I’ve been adding a few drops. Just a few. I thought maybe she needed iron, or—”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Helena said quickly. “You did what you could to keep your granddaughter alive.”

“But what’s wrong with her?” Tears streamed down Mrs. Hartmann’s face. “Please, tell me the truth. My daughter is dead. My son-in-law is dead. Sophie is all I have left. Please.”

Helena took a deep breath. “The truth is complicated. And you probably won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Helena looked at Thomas, then at Erik. A silent question: how much do we say?

Thomas gave a slight nod. Tell her.

“Your granddaughter was attacked,” Helena began. “By something that isn’t human. Something very old and very dangerous. The wounds on her neck aren’t from insects. They’re bite marks.”

“Bite marks? From what? An animal?”

“From a vampire.”

The words hung in the air like a detonation.

Mrs. Hartmann stared at Helena. Then she laughed—a short, disbelieving laugh. “That’s… that’s absurd. Vampires don’t exist. They’re fairy tales.”

“They were fairy tales,” Marcus corrected. “Until they became real.”

“You’re insane. All three of you.” Mrs. Hartmann backed toward the door. “I want you to leave. Now. Or I’ll call the police.”

“Please, listen to us,” Erik stepped forward. “I know how this sounds. I wouldn’t have believed it either. But three weeks ago, we saved another baby. Lukas Berger. He had the same symptoms as Sophie. And we were able to heal him.”

“Heal him? How?”

“Through a ritual. It’s complicated, but it works.” Erik pulled the Soul Key from his pocket. “With this.”

Mrs. Hartmann stared at the key. In the morning light it glowed faintly, a warm, golden pulse.

“What… what is that?”

“A tool,” Thomas said. “A very old, very powerful tool. It can draw the darkness out of your granddaughter. But we have to act quickly. The longer we wait, the harder it becomes.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then Sophie will die,” Helena said flatly, honestly. “Or worse—she’ll fully transform. And then she won’t be a baby anymore. She’ll be a monster.”

Mrs. Hartmann looked at the crib, where Sophie slept peacefully. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath. So normal. So innocent.

“She’s all I have left,” Mrs. Hartmann whispered.

“Then let us help her,” Helena said softly.

A long pause. Then Mrs. Hartmann nodded, tears streaming down her face. “What do I have to do?”

---

They worked quickly.

Thomas turned the living room into a makeshift ritual site. He drew symbols on the parquet floor with chalk—Mrs. Hartmann protested weakly, then gave up—and placed candles in a circle.

Marcus positioned himself at the window, watching the street. “If the vampire senses what we’re doing, it’ll come,” he said. “We need to be ready.”

Erik helped Thomas with the preparations. His hands trembled slightly, but he forced himself to stay calm. You’ve done this before, he reminded himself. With Lukas. You can do it again.

But a voice in his head whispered: Lukas was younger. Lukas’s transformation had just begun. Sophie is further along. What if it doesn’t work?

“Erik.” Thomas’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Trust the process. Trust yourself.”

Erik nodded, trying to believe.

Helena took Sophie from the crib. The baby woke immediately and began to cry—not the piercing, unnatural scream Lukas had made, but close enough. A sound that scraped at the nerves.

“It’s all right,” Helena murmured, rocking the baby. “It’ll be over soon.”

They laid Sophie in the center of the circle on a soft blanket. Mrs. Hartmann knelt beside her, holding her granddaughter’s tiny hand, crying silently.

“Are you ready?” Thomas asked.

Mrs. Hartmann nodded.

Thomas began to sing—the same ancient words as in Lukas’s ritual. Latin, Hebrew, languages Erik didn’t understand but whose power he could feel.

The air in the room changed. It grew denser, heavier. The candles flickered.

Thomas took the silver blade. “Your blood, Mrs. Hartmann.”

The older woman held out her hand. Thomas struck quickly; three drops of blood fell into the chalice of holy water.

Then he turned to Sophie. “Forgive me, little one.”

He cut her. Sophie screamed, loud and piercing.

Three drops fell into the chalice.

“Erik.”

Erik stepped forward and extended his hand. The blade struck. The pain was sharp but brief. Three drops of his blood mixed with the others.

The water in the chalice began to glow. Weaker than with Lukas, Erik noticed. Weaker—and more unstable.

Thomas raised the chalice over Sophie. “In the name of the Light older than the darkness. In the name of the lives that outlast sacrifice. In the name of love stronger than death.” He poured the glowing water over Sophie’s forehead. “I command the darkness: leave this child!”

Sophie screamed again. But this time it didn’t stop.

Her tiny body began to shake. The wounds on her neck opened, dark red—almost black—blood seeping out.

“The key!” Thomas shouted. “Now!”

Erik raised the Soul Key. He focused as Thomas had taught him. Felt the key’s heartbeat and let it merge with his own.

The light came—but slower than before. And weaker.

“Erik, more!” Thomas’s voice was tense. “Give more!”

Erik tried. He pushed harder, focused more intensely. The light grew stronger—but not enough.

From Sophie’s wounds, the darkness began to seep out—the same black, oily substance as with Lukas. But more of it. Much more.

It writhed, trying to flow back into Sophie’s body.

“Hold it back!” Thomas yelled.

Erik pushed with all his strength. Light exploded from the key, striking the darkness.

But the darkness fought back.

It began to whisper—not with words, but with thoughts, directly in Erik’s mind.

She is ours. She belongs to us. You cannot save her.

“Lies,” Erik forced out.

Look at her. Look how far she already is. She is more ours than yours.

Erik forced himself to look. Sophie’s eyes had opened. They were red. Glowing red. And within them… was there still humanity? Or only hunger?

Let go, the darkness whispered. Leave the child to us. Take another instead. The other six. You can’t save them all.

“Shut up!” Erik shouted aloud. The light from the key pulsed, becoming unstable.

“Erik, focus!” Helena’s voice, sharp. “Don’t lose yourself!”

But it was too late. The darkness had found a crack, a moment of weakness.

It surged forward—not back to Sophie, but toward Erik.

It hit him like a fist. Cold, brutal, invasive.

Erik screamed.

Images flooded his mind. Not his own. Memories of the darkness.

People dying. Hundreds, thousands. Over centuries. Faces twisted in fear, screams that never ended. Blood—so much blood.

And at the center of it all: a figure. A woman. Old—unimaginably old. Her eyes were pitch black, empty as nothingness itself.

The Eldest.

She looked at him. Across centuries, through the darkness, straight into Erik.

“You,” she whispered. Her voice was everywhere and nowhere. “You carry the key. You dare challenge me.”

Erik couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move.

“You will fail,” the Eldest said. “Like all before you. And when you fail, I will take not only the child. I will take you.”

Then she laughed—a sound that echoed inside Erik’s skull, tearing him apart from within.

“Erik!” Someone shook him. “Erik, come back!”

With monumental effort, Erik tore himself free. The vision shattered.

He was back in the living room. On his knees. Thomas was holding him, shaking him.

“Are you with us? Erik?”

“I… I’m here,” Erik gasped. “What happened?”

“You collapsed. The darkness attacked you.” Thomas’s face was pale. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“The baby?” Erik looked toward the circle.

Sophie lay still. Too still.

Mrs. Hartmann was crying, holding her granddaughter, rocking her back and forth.

“No,” Erik whispered. “No, please.”

Helena knelt beside Mrs. Hartmann and placed two fingers on Sophie’s neck. A long, agonizing pause.

Then: “She’s breathing. Weakly, but she’s breathing.”

Relief washed over Erik like a wave.

“The wounds?” Thomas asked.

Helena gently brushed Sophie’s hair aside. The wounds on her neck were… smaller. Not gone, but definitely smaller. The black discoloration had receded.

“It worked,” Helena said in disbelief. “Not completely, but… it worked.”

“What does ‘not completely’ mean?” Mrs. Hartmann asked frantically.

“It means the darkness is still partly inside her,” Thomas said, standing up, looking exhausted. “We’ve pushed it back, slowed it down, but not fully removed it. Sophie is still in danger.”

“What can we do?”

“Repeat the ritual. In a few days, when she’s stronger.” Helena looked at Erik. “And when we are stronger.”

Erik felt hollowed out, as if someone had scraped him out from the inside. The key lay beside him on the floor, the metal cold and lifeless.

“I saw her,” he whispered. “The Eldest. She was in the darkness. She spoke to me.”

Everyone stared at him.

“What did she say?” Helena asked.

“That I’ll fail. That she’ll take me.” Erik looked at his hands; they were shaking uncontrollably. “She knows who I am. She knows about the key.”

“Of course she does,” Marcus said from his post at the window. “She’s the Eldest. She knows everything.”

“Then we’re in danger.” Thomas gathered the ritual tools. “If she knows Erik, she’ll hunt him. Specifically.”

“Let her come,” Erik said. His voice was weaker than he intended. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“You should be,” Helena said quietly. “The Eldest isn’t just any vampire. She’s the source. The primordial mother of darkness. If she truly wants you…” She left the sentence unfinished.

A crash.

Everyone turned toward the front windows.

Marcus stood there, gun drawn. “We have company.”

Outside, on the street, stood figures. Five, six, more. All dressed in black. All motionless. All with glowing eyes.

And at their head: Valentina.

She smiled and gave a mocking wave.

“Time to go,” Marcus said. “Now.”

“The back exit,” Mrs. Hartmann said quickly. “Through the kitchen, into the garden. From there you can—”

“You’re coming with us,” Helena interrupted. “You and Sophie. If they know we were here, you’re no longer safe.”

“But my house—”

“Is just a house.” Helena helped her up. “Your life is more important.”

They ran through the house, into the kitchen. Thomas carried the ritual materials; Marcus covered their rear. Erik stumbled, still weakened by the confrontation with the darkness, but Helena supported him.

The back door. The garden. A tall fence, but with a gate.

They reached the gate. Marcus flung it open—

—and froze.

On the other side stood a figure.

Tall. Male. With dark hair and a face Erik somehow recognized.

The figure smiled. “Hello, sister.”

Helena went pale. “Dimitri.”

The vampire—Helena’s brother—stepped into the light. His eyes were red, but different from the others’. More intelligent. Almost… human.

“You’re running,” he said. “That’s new. The Helena I knew never ran.”

“The Helena you knew is long dead,” Helena said through clenched teeth. She raised her pistol, aimed it at his heart. “Just like you.”

“Am I?” Dimitri looked theatrically at himself. “I feel very much alive.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk. With you. Alone.” His eyes drifted to the others. “But I see you’ve brought friends. And a baby.” His gaze lingered on Sophie, whom Mrs. Hartmann clutched tightly. “A half-turned baby. Interesting.”

“Stay away from her,” Marcus hissed.

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Dimitri laughed. “I’ve survived bullets bigger than your gun, hunter.”

“Dimitri,” Helena’s voice broke. “Please. Let us go.”

“Let you go?” Dimitri tilted his head. “But you’ve just done something that makes the Council very angry. You tried to steal one of its gifts.”

“The baby isn’t a gift. It’s a life.”

“To you, perhaps. To us…” Dimitri shrugged. “It’s a resource. A tool. A means to an end.”

“You were once human,” Helena whispered. “You once had a heart.”

“That was forty years ago, sister. A lot has changed.” Dimitri stepped closer. “But maybe… you can remind me. Of who I was.”

“How?”

“Come with me. Alone. Talk to me. And I’ll let your friends go.”

“It’s a trap,” Marcus said immediately.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Dimitri grinned. “But it’s also an offer. The only one you’ll get.”

Helena looked at the others. Then back at her brother.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll come.”

“Helena, no!” Erik grabbed her arm. “You can’t trust him!”

“I know.” Helena smiled sadly. “But I have to try. For all of us.”

She handed Marcus her pistol. Then she walked toward Dimitri.

He extended his hand. She took it.

“See you soon, hunters,” Dimitri said to the others. “Take good care of the baby. We’ll be coming to reclaim it.”

Then they were gone. Just like that. Into the darkness—too fast to follow.

Erik stood there, paralyzed, as the morning sun finally rose over the rooftops.

Helena was gone.

And he had no idea if he would ever see her again.

CHAPTER 9
The Search Begins

“Back to the cars! Now!” Marcus’s voice snapped Erik out of his paralysis.

They ran back through the garden toward the house. Marcus led the way, pistol drawn, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. Thomas followed with Mrs. Hartmann and Sophie, who was crying now—a normal, human cry. Erik brought up the rear, gripping the Soul Key tightly, even though his hands were still trembling.

When they reached the front of the house, the vampires were gone. The street lay deserted, almost peaceful in the morning sunlight.

“Where are they?” Mrs. Hartmann whispered.

“Hiding,” Marcus replied curtly. “The sun is up. They can’t stay outside for long.”

“But Dimitri—”

“Was old enough to endure sunlight for a short time.” Marcus opened the Mercedes door and helped Mrs. Hartmann inside. “The Elders can exist in the light. Not for long, not comfortably, but they can. Come on, get in.”

They squeezed into the car. Marcus at the wheel, Thomas in the front, Erik, Mrs. Hartmann, and Sophie in the back. The engine roared to life, and they sped away.

Erik looked out the rear window. The villa grew smaller, disappeared around a bend. No pursuers. At least none visible.

“We can’t just leave them behind,” Erik said. “Helena. We have to—”

“What?” Marcus’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror. “Go back? Fight a dozen vampires? Free her from the clutches of her own brother, who’s probably already planning how to kill her?”

“Dimitri didn’t kill her,” Thomas said calmly. “Not yet.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he wanted to talk to her. If he wanted her dead, he would have done it in front of us. As a message.” Thomas stared out the window, thoughtful. “No. He wants something from her. Information, perhaps. Or…” He trailed off.

“Or what?” Erik pressed.

“Or he wants her back. With him. With them.” Thomas’s voice dropped. “Vampirism is a disease, but also a temptation. It promises power, eternal life, freedom from human weakness. For someone like Dimitri, who was surrounded by his vampire ancestors his entire life… it may have been inevitable.”

“And he wants Helena to take the same path,” Erik realized.

“Possibly.”

“That won’t happen.” Marcus’s jaw was tight. “Helena is stronger than that. She’s resisted that temptation her whole life.”

“But now she’s alone with her brother. The only living member of her family.” Thomas sighed. “Even the strongest can grow weak in moments of loneliness.”

Erik clenched his fists. “We’ll find her. We’ll bring her back.”

“How?” Marcus took a sharp turn. “Munich is huge. The vampires have hundreds of hiding places. The catacombs, old buildings, abandoned subway tunnels. We could search for weeks.”

“Then we’ll search for weeks.”

“We don’t have weeks!” Marcus slammed the steering wheel. “Have you forgotten the other six babies? The ones who’ll be turned too? Who will die if we do nothing?”

The words hit Erik like blows. He really had forgotten them. In the panic over Helena, he’d lost sight of the mission.

“The children,” Mrs. Hartmann whispered. She held Sophie close, rocking her. “There are more like my Sophie?”

“Six more,” Thomas confirmed. “All in danger. All in need of help.”

“Then you have to help them,” Mrs. Hartmann said. Her voice was firm despite the tears in her eyes. “I don’t understand everything that’s happening here. Vampires, rituals, keys that glow. But I understand this: innocent children are in danger. And you’re the only ones who can help them.”

“But Helena—” Erik began.

“Will understand,” Mrs. Hartmann interrupted. “Any mother, any grandmother would understand. The children come first.”

Marcus nodded grimly. “The old lady’s right. We focus on the mission. Helena can take care of herself. She’s not helpless.”

“But she’s alone,” Erik said.

“She isn’t.” Thomas pulled out his phone. “Helena always wears a tracker. A small device sewn into her necklace. For situations exactly like this.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” Marcus sounded relieved and angry at the same time.

“Because I wanted you to think clearly. Not panic.” Thomas tapped his phone. A map appeared. “She’s… downtown. Near Marienplatz. Not moving.”

“Captured?”

“Or waiting.” Thomas zoomed in. “That’s a café. Augustiner am Platzl. Public, bright, full of people.”

“Dimitri wouldn’t take her to a public place,” Marcus said skeptically. “Unless—”

“Unless he really just wants to talk,” Thomas finished. “Without Night Watch witnesses. Without pressure.”

Erik felt his chest loosen a little. “Then she’s safe. For now.”

“For now,” Marcus agreed. “But we have to get her out soon. The longer she’s with him—”

“The greater the danger that he’ll influence her,” Thomas said. “I know.”

They reached headquarters. Marcus drove straight into the underground garage, a hidden entrance beneath the bookstore that Erik hadn’t noticed before.

Yuki was already waiting, her face tense. “I saw everything on the monitors. Helena—”

“Is with her brother,” Marcus said shortly as he got out. “We’re tracking her. But first…” He helped Mrs. Hartmann and Sophie out of the car. “We have guests.”

Yuki nodded in understanding. “I’ll prepare a room. Mrs. Hartmann, please follow me.”

“I need to call my family, let them know—”

“Nothing,” Yuki interrupted gently but firmly. “I’m sorry, but no one can know where you are. Not until this is over.”

“But—”

“Your life depends on it. And Sophie’s.” Yuki’s eyes were compassionate. “Please, trust us.”

Mrs. Hartmann looked from one of them to the other, then at her granddaughter. Finally, she nodded. “All right. But I want updates. Every hour.”

“Promise,” Yuki said.

She led Mrs. Hartmann and Sophie into headquarters. Erik, Marcus, and Thomas followed.

In the conference room, Marcus spread out the list Yuki had compiled. Six more names. Six more families.

“Family Müller, Sendling. Baby Leon, four weeks old. First wound two weeks ago.”

“Family Schneider, Neuhausen. Baby Emma, six weeks old. First wound three weeks ago.”

“Family Özkan, Giesing. Baby Ayşe, five weeks old. First wound ten days ago.”

The list went on. Each name a life. Each name a child in danger.

“We split up,” Marcus said. “The three of us can manage at most two, maybe three rituals today. If we’re lucky.”

“I can go alone,” Erik offered. “With the key. I’ll perform the rituals.”

“No.” Thomas shook his head. “You nearly lost your soul today. The key needs time. And so do you.”

“But—”

“He’s right.” Marcus looked at Erik, his face serious. “You’re valuable, rookie. But not priceless. If you burn out, we lose not only you but also the key. And without both, we’re powerless.”

Erik wanted to protest, but he knew they were right. His body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. Every muscle ached. And the contact with the Elder… it had changed something inside him. He felt hollowed out.

“So what now?” he asked.

“We prioritize.” Yuki had reentered, without Mrs. Hartmann. “I’ve analyzed the medical data of all six cases. Based on severity of symptoms, time since initial infection…” She pointed at the list. “These three are the most critical. They have to be treated today. By tomorrow at the latest.”

“Family Müller,” Marcus read. “Family Özkan. And… Family Wagner.”

“Wagner?” Erik looked at the list. “They weren’t on it before.”

“I just added them.” Yuki’s face was grave. “The baby was admitted to the ER only three days ago. The symptoms are extreme. If we don’t act today…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Then we start with the Wagners,” Thomas said. “Where do they live?”

“Schwabing. Not far from the Bergers.” Yuki handed him an address. “But there’s a problem.”

“Of course there is,” Marcus muttered. “What?”

“The father, Mr. Wagner, is a police officer. Criminal Investigation Division. He won’t just let us in. And he definitely won’t believe what we tell him.”

“A cop.” Marcus rubbed his face. “Fantastic.”

“Maybe that’s an advantage,” Erik said. “A cop is trained to look at evidence. If we show him the truth—”

“Or he arrests us for attempted kidnapping,” Marcus shot back.

“We have to try.” Thomas stood up. “Time is running out. Every minute we argue is a minute the baby doesn’t have.”

“Agreed.” Marcus grabbed his jacket. “Thomas and I will handle the Wagners. Erik, you stay here. Rest. Yuki will look after you.”

“I can—”

“You can stay here,” Marcus cut in firmly. “That’s an order, rookie.”

Erik wanted to keep arguing, but one look from Thomas silenced him. The quiet priest briefly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Trust us. We need you strong. Not burned out.”

They left. Erik remained in the conference room, staring at the list of names. So many lives. So much at stake.

“Come.” Yuki’s voice was gentle. “I’ll show you where you can rest.”

“I don’t want to rest. I want to—”

“Help. I know.” Yuki smiled faintly. “But right now, the best way you can help is by recovering. Come.”

She led him through the corridors to a small room. A bed, a chair, a lamp. Spartan, but clean.

“That was my room when I started here,” Yuki said. “Five years ago. Back then, I couldn’t sleep either. Too much in my head.”

“What helped?”

“Meditation. And realizing that I can’t control everything.” She sat on the chair, letting Erik have the bed. “Sometimes you have to let go, Erik. Trust that others will play their part.”

“But Helena—”

“Is one of the strongest people I know.” Yuki’s eyes shone. “She survived her parents’ deaths. Her father’s and brother’s transformation. Decades of hunting, of loss, of despair. And she’s still here. Still fighting.”

“But what if Dimitri convinces her? What if she lets herself be turned?”

“Then we’ve lost her.” Yuki’s voice was quiet but honest. “But I don’t think that will happen. Helena has seen too much. Fought too much. She knows what she stands for.”

Erik wanted to believe her. But doubt gnawed at him.

Yuki stood. “I’ll leave you alone. Try to sleep. Or at least meditate. I’m next door if you need me.”

She left. The door closed softly.

Erik lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep seemed impossible. His mind raced, jumping between Helena, the babies, the Elder.

You will fail, she had said. Like all before you.

Was it true? Was he just the next in a long line of failed bearers of the Soul Key?

He pulled the key from his pocket, studied it in the dim light. The metal was cold now, lifeless. No trace of the glow it had had during the ritual.

“Who were you?” Erik whispered. “Who carried you before I did?”

The key did not answer. Of course it didn’t.

But when Erik closed his eyes, he saw faces. Fleeting, like shadows. People from other times. A monk with a tonsure. A woman in medieval clothing. A soldier in a World War I uniform.

All of them had carried the key. All of them had fought.

And all of them had died.

Erik opened his eyes, his heart pounding. “No. I’m not going to die. Not like that.”

He stood up, despite Yuki’s advice. He couldn’t just lie here and do nothing.

He went back to the conference room. Yuki was sitting there, working on her laptop.

“I thought you were resting,” she said without looking up.

“I can’t.” Erik sat down opposite her. “Show me Helena’s position. I want to know she’s okay.”

Yuki hesitated, then turned her laptop around. The map showed a blinking dot. “Still in the same place. Augustiner am Platzl.”

“How long?”

“Thirty minutes. She’s not moving.”

“That’s good, right? That means she’s not captured. Dimitri didn’t abduct her.”

“Or the tracker was found and removed,” Yuki said cautiously. “That’s also possible.”

Erik felt his stomach tighten. “Can we check?”

“How? We can’t just walk into the café. If Dimitri sees us—”

“Then he won’t see us.” Erik stood. “Are there cameras nearby? Street cameras, shops?”

“Probably.” Yuki typed. “Marienplatz is heavily monitored. One moment…”

She hacked into the city systems. Images filled the screen. Different angles of the square and surrounding streets.

“There.” Erik pointed at a monitor. “The café.”

Yuki zoomed in. The image was grainy but recognizable. The café was full, tourists and locals having breakfast.

And at a table in the corner, half hidden: Helena and Dimitri.

They sat facing each other, talking. Helena’s face was tense but calm. Dimitri smiled, gestured, looked almost… human.

“They really are just talking,” Yuki whispered. “No violence. No captivity.”

“What are they talking about?”

“No audio on the cameras. We can only guess.” Yuki leaned back. “But their body language… Helena is defensive. Arms crossed, leaning back. Dimitri is open, leaning forward. He’s trying to persuade her.”

“Of what?”

“Whatever he wants.” Yuki looked at Erik. “But she’s listening. That’s important. She hasn’t fled.”

“She should,” Erik muttered.

They kept watching. Minutes passed. The conversation continued.

Then Dimitri stood up. He put money on the table, said something to Helena. She shook her head.

He smiled sadly, then left. Disappeared from the frame.

Helena remained seated. Alone. Her head in her hands.

“She’s free,” Yuki said. “He let her go.”

Erik felt relief, but also confusion. “Why? What does he want?”

“We’ll find out.” Yuki grabbed her phone. “I’ll call her.”

She dialed. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

Then, on the screen, Helena reached for her phone, looked at the display.

And rejected the call.

“What?” Yuki stared at her phone. “She… she declined.”

“Try again.”

Yuki dialed again. It rang. And again, Helena declined.

“She doesn’t want to talk to us,” Yuki whispered. “Why?”

Erik felt a cold fear rise in his chest. “Because Dimitri convinced her. Of something.”

On the screen, Helena stood up. She left money on the table, put on her jacket. Then she left the café.

But she didn’t head toward Night Watch headquarters.

She went in the opposite direction.

“Where is she going?” Erik asked.

Yuki switched between different cameras, following Helena through the streets. “Toward the main station. Why would she—”

“She’s leaving Munich,” Erik realized suddenly. “Dimitri convinced her to go.”

“Or she’s executing a plan,” Yuki said. But her voice didn’t sound convinced. “Helena wouldn’t just abandon us.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Erik thought of what Thomas had said. Even the strongest can become weak in moments of loneliness.

They watched as Helena entered the main station. The interior cameras showed her at the ticket counter.

“I have to get to her,” Erik said suddenly. He stood up. “Before she gets on a train.”

“Erik, wait—”

“No. You told me to rest. But I can’t just sit by while we lose Helena.” He grabbed his jacket. “The main station is fifteen minutes from here. I can reach her.”

“And if it’s dangerous? If Dimitri is nearby?”

“Then I’ll be careful.” Erik hesitated. “Yuki, call Marcus and Thomas. Tell them what happened. But I’m not waiting.”

He ran for the door.

“Erik!” Yuki’s voice followed him. “At least take this!”

She threw something to him. He caught it. A small taser, no bigger than a phone.

“Effective against humans and young vampires,” she explained. “Against Elders like Dimitri… less so. But better than nothing.”

“Thanks.” Erik pocketed the taser and ran up the spiral staircase.

Through the bookstore, out onto the street. The morning sun was fully up now, warming the city. People hurried past, heading to work, unaware of the darkness lurking beneath their feet.

Erik ran. His body protested, every step painful, but he ignored it.

Helena was leaving the Night Watch. Leaving them all.

And he would not let her go. Not without a fight.

The main station loomed ahead, a massive structure of glass and steel.

Erik burst inside.

The hall was crowded. Travelers, commuters, tourists. Hundreds of people.

Where was she?

Erik scanned the crowd desperately. There! Platform 17, a train ready to depart.

And on the platform, just boarding: Helena.

“Helena!” Erik shouted her name, pushing through the crowd.

She didn’t hear him. Or ignored him.

The train doors began to close.

“No!” Erik sprinted, reached the platform.

The doors closed. A narrow gap remained.

Erik jumped.

He made it. Barely. The doors closed behind him, nearly catching his jacket.

The train began to move.

Erik gasped, leaned against the wall. Other passengers stared at him.

He ignored them and moved through the carriage.

There, in the next compartment: Helena.

She sat by the window, looking out as Munich slid past.

Erik sat down opposite her.

She looked up, surprised, then resigned.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said quietly.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Erik shot back.

They sat in silence as the train picked up speed.

Then, softly: “He told me something. Dimitri. Something about the Council. About the Elder.”

“What?”

Helena looked at him, her eyes tired. And afraid.

“She’s my mother.”

The words made the world stand still.

“What?” Erik whispered.

“The Elder. The leader of the Council. The source of all this darkness.” Helena’s voice broke. “She is my mother.”

CHAPTER 10
The First Encounter

Erik stared at Helena, unable to speak. The train kept rattling on, Munich disappearing behind them, but all Erik could hear was the echo of her words.

She is my mother.

“That… that’s not possible,” he finally stammered. “Your mother was named Maria. You said so. She was human. She died when you—”

“The woman who raised me was named Maria,” Helena interrupted. Her voice was flat, emotionless—the voice of someone forcing herself not to fall apart. “But she wasn’t my biological mother. Dimitri told me that today. The truth he’s known for forty years.”

“Dimitri is lying. He’s a vampire, he’s manipulating you—”

“No.” Helena shook her head. “I wish it were a lie. But he had proof. Photos. Letters. Documents from 1957, the year I was born.”

She took an envelope from her bag and slid it across the table. Her hands were trembling.

Erik opened it carefully. Inside were old black-and-white photographs. The first showed a woman, young and breathtakingly beautiful, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She was holding a baby in her arms.

“That’s me,” Helena whispered. “Three days old. And this…” She pointed to the woman. “That’s her. The Elder.”

Erik studied the photo more closely. The woman looked young, maybe thirty. But her eyes… her eyes were old. Infinitely old. And they glowed faintly, even in the faded photograph.

“How is that possible? Vampires can’t have children.”

“Most of them can’t,” Helena said. “But the Elders, the ones who are thousands of years old… they have abilities the younger ones don’t. They can control their transformation, temporarily reverse it. Enough to…” She broke off, looked away. “She became pregnant by my father. Konstantin. Long before he was turned.”

“But why? Why would a vampire want a child?”

“Experiment. Legacy. Power.” Helena’s voice turned bitter. “Dimitri said the Elder wanted to see whether a child could be born of vampire and human. A dhampir, but stronger. With potential.”

“Potential for what?”

“To be a bridge. Between worlds. Between vampires and humans.” Helena laughed bitterly. “Or a weapon. Depending on how you look at it.”

Erik flipped through the other photos. One showed the same woman with a small boy—Dimitri, Erik guessed. Another showed Konstantin, still human, happy, standing beside the woman.

“What happened? Why did you grow up with Maria?”

“Because the Elder decided I was a failure.” Helena’s voice was barely audible. “I was too human. Too normal. No supernatural powers, no connection to the darkness. Just an ordinary baby. So she gave me away. To Maria, a nurse who worked for her. Maria was supposed to raise me, watch me. See if I might still develop abilities later.”

“And?”

“Nothing. I stayed human. Completely, entirely human.” Helena looked at her hands. “But Dimitri didn’t. He was three years older, and with him the genes worked. He was stronger than normal children, faster, his senses sharper. The Elder was thrilled. He was her success.”

“That’s why he was turned.”

“When he was twenty-one, she gave him a choice. Stay human and die one day. Or become a vampire and live forever at her side.” Helena’s eyes filled with tears. “He chose her. His biological mother. Over me. Over Maria. Over his human life.”

The train entered a tunnel. The lights flickered. In the dim light, Helena looked broken.

“That’s why you’re leaving Munich,” Erik realized. “You can’t fight your own mother.”

“How am I supposed to?” Helena’s voice finally broke. “She’s my mother, Erik. She gave birth to me. And now I’m supposed to kill her?”

“She’s a monster. She’s planning to kill thousands of people.”

“She’s still my mother!”

The words hung between them, too big, too heavy.

The train emerged from the tunnel. Outside, the landscape rushed by—fields, forests. They were moving fast, away from Munich, away from everything.

“Where is this train going?” Erik asked.

“Salzburg. Then on to Vienna.” Helena wiped her eyes. “I thought… I could disappear. Start over somewhere. Leave the Night Watch to someone else.”

“Marcus?”

“He’s capable. Brutal, but effective.” Helena smiled faintly. “And he doesn’t carry the emotional baggage I do.”

“But he isn’t you.” Erik leaned forward. “Helena, the Night Watch needs you. The city needs you. The six babies need you.”

“They have Thomas. They have the Soul Key. They have—”

“They don’t have their leader.” Erik reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re running away. I understand it. I understand why. But you told me yourself: sometimes the right decision is the hardest one.”

“That was before I knew I was the child of a monster.”

“You are not your blood.” Erik’s voice grew firmer. “You are your actions. Your choices. Your life. And you’ve spent your entire life fighting the darkness. That doesn’t make you a monster. That makes you a hero.”

Helena closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “For the first time in years, I’m truly afraid. Not of the vampires. Not of death. But that Dimitri might be right.”

“Right about what?”

“That in the end I’ll become like her. Like my mother. That the darkness is inside me, waiting to break free.”

“That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.” Erik squeezed her hand. “Not for long, that’s true. But long enough to see who you are. And you’re not dark. You’re the opposite of that.”

The train began to slow. A voice over the loudspeaker: “Next stop: Rosenheim.”

“We’re getting off here,” Erik said. “Going back to Munich.”

“Erik—”

“No buts. The mission isn’t over. And you’re part of it.” He stood. “Come on. Before you waste any more time on self-doubt.”

Helena looked at him for a long moment. Then, finally, she nodded. “You’re astonishingly stubborn for a rookie.”

“I had a good teacher.”

They got off the train in Rosenheim. The platform was almost empty; only a few commuters were getting on and off.

Helena pulled out her phone, saw the missed calls from Yuki. “I need to call them. Explain why—”

“Later.” Erik gestured toward the opposite side of the tracks. “Next train back to Munich leaves in twenty minutes. Until then…” He looked around, spotted a small café at the station. “Coffee?”

Helena smiled weakly. “Coffee sounds good.”

---

They sat in the café, drinking overpriced station coffee that nevertheless tasted better than expected.

“Tell me about her,” Erik said. “About the Elder. Not as your mother. As an enemy. What do we know about her?”

Helena took a deep breath and slipped into her professional mode. “Her name—her real name—is Katalin. Hungarian origin. Born probably in the 11th century, maybe earlier.”

“That old?”

“The oldest vampires go back to Roman times. Some claim even further.” Helena sipped her coffee. “Katalin was likely turned during the First Crusades. There are reports of a ‘Blood Countess’ in Jerusalem who depopulated entire villages.”

“And she founded the Council?”

“Not alone. But she was one of the founders. In the 13th century, when vampire hunters became more organized, the most powerful vampires decided to unite. For protection, for power, for…” Helena hesitated. “For a vision.”

“The eternal night.”

“Yes. But it was more than that. They wanted a world in which vampires no longer had to live in hiding. In which they could rule openly, without fear.” Helena’s eyes darkened. “They tried for the first time in the 14th century. In Budapest. They killed most of the population, turned hundreds. They almost succeeded.”

“What stopped them?”

“Other vampires. Those who believed coexistence was possible. They allied with human hunters. The war lasted ten years. In the end, Budapest lay in ruins, and the Council had to flee.”

“But they didn’t give up.”

“Katalin never gives up. That’s her trademark.” Helena set her cup down. “She waits. Decades, centuries. But she never forgets. And she always plans three steps ahead.”

“So she didn’t choose Munich by chance.”

“No. Munich lies on one of the strongest ley-line nodes in Europe. Perfect for the ritual. And…” Helena hesitated. “Dimitri said she’s been here for years. Preparing everything.”

“Years?” Erik shivered. “How long exactly?”

“At least ten. Maybe twenty.” Helena stared out the window, where the rain had started again. “She’s integrated herself into the city. Built an identity. A life. No one knows who she really is.”

“But Dimitri does.”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t tell you where she is. Who she is.”

“No.” Helena’s voice turned bitter. “He said I had to find out myself. As a test. To see if I was worthy of hunting my own mother.”

“That’s sick.”

“That’s Dimitri.” Helena sighed. “He’s always been a player. Even as a child. Everything had to be a game, a challenge.”

“But he gave you something. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been on that train.”

Helena nodded slowly. She took the envelope out again and pulled out another photo. “This.”

The photo showed a modern street in Munich. A shop with the sign: Galerie Schwarzmond – Antique Art & Curiosities.

“What is that?”

“A shop on Maximilianstraße. Supposedly owned by a certain ‘Mrs. Steiner.’ An art dealer, reclusive, eccentric.” Helena’s fingers trembled slightly as she held the photo. “Dimitri said if I wanted to find her, I should start there.”

“That’s her? Katalin is hiding as an art dealer?”

“Why not? It’s perfect. She trades in ancient objects, travels the world for auctions, no one asks questions.” Helena laughed bitterly. “And she has access to occult artifacts. Perfect for someone planning an apocalypse ritual.”

Erik studied the photo. The shop looked unremarkable. A normal store in an expensive area.

“We’re going there,” he said suddenly.

“What? No. Erik, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” Erik leaned forward. “She doesn’t know that you know. That gives us an advantage. We go in, look around, gather information.”

“And if she recognizes me? I’m her daughter. Even after sixty years—”

“Then you play the role.” Erik’s mind was racing. “You’re a customer. Interested in occult objects. You ask questions, browse. I go with you as… your assistant. Or friend. Whatever.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Everything we do is dangerous.” Erik reached for her hand across the table. “But we have to confront her. Sooner or later. Better on our terms than on hers.”

Helena was silent for a long time. Rain drummed against the café windows. Somewhere in the background, soft music played.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “I ran away. But that solves nothing.” She looked Erik in the eyes. “If we do this, if we really go in there… promise me something.”

“What?”

“If it goes wrong, if she attacks me or tries to turn me… kill me.”

“Helena—”

“Promise me, Erik.” Her eyes were steady, resolute. “I will not become like her. I’d rather die.”

Erik felt his throat tighten. “That won’t be necessary.”

“But if it is. Promise me.”

Erik nodded slowly. “I promise.”

“Good.” Helena stood, left money on the table. “Then let’s go back to Munich. We have a mother to visit.”

---

The return trip passed in tense silence. Erik tried to prepare himself, mentally running through what they might face. But how did one prepare to confront the Eldest of vampires? The source of all darkness?

Helena stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts. From time to time she touched the envelope with the photos, as if to reassure herself that it was real.

They reached Munich around noon. The city looked normal, almost idyllic in the dull November light. People were shopping, trams rattled past, life went on.

“We should go back to the others,” Helena said as they left the station. “Update them. Maybe take Marcus and Thomas as backup.”

“No.” Erik shook his head. “Dimitri said you were supposed to find her alone. As a test. If we show up with a whole team, she’ll know immediately that something’s wrong.”

“But—”

“Just us two. No one else.” Erik looked at her. “Do you trust me?”

Helena hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I trust you.”

They took a taxi to Maximilianstraße, one of Munich’s most exclusive shopping streets. Designer boutiques, expensive restaurants, tourists with shopping bags.

And right in the middle, between a jeweler and an Italian restaurant: Galerie Schwarzmond.

The display window showed ancient statues, old paintings, mysterious artifacts behind glass. Everything looked authentic, valuable, from different eras and cultures.

“Ready?” Erik asked.

Helena took a deep breath. “No. But that doesn’t matter.”

They opened the door. A small bell chimed.

The shop was larger than it appeared from the outside. High ceilings, dim lighting, the scent of old wood and incense. Shelves full of books, display cases with jewelry and weapons, paintings on the walls.

And at the far end of the room, behind an antique desk: a woman.

She looked to be in her forties, elegantly dressed in a black suit. Her hair was dark with a few gray streaks, pulled back into a severe bun. She wore rimless glasses and looked up as they entered.

“Good afternoon,” she said. Her voice was warm, cultivated, with a slight accent Erik couldn’t place. “Welcome to Galerie Schwarzmond. How may I help you?”

Helena froze.

Erik felt it instantly. That was her. The woman from the photographs, only older now—or rather, pretending to be older. That was Katalin. The Elder.

Helena’s mother.

“We… we’re interested in occult artifacts,” Erik said quickly when Helena didn’t respond. “Something special. For a collection.”

The woman smiled. “Of course. Occult pieces are my specialty.” She stood and came closer. “Are you looking for something specific? A particular era? Culture?”

She was only three meters away now. Erik could see her eyes. They were dark brown, almost black.

And they weren’t glowing. At least not at the moment.

“Something… powerful,” Erik said. “Something with a history.”

“Everything here has a history.” The woman—Mrs. Steiner, Katalin—gestured to the exhibits. “But if you’re looking for true power…” She went to a locked display case. “Perhaps this will interest you.”

She took out a key and opened the case. Inside lay a dagger, the blade made of black metal, the hilt engraved with runes.

“Sacrificial dagger,” she explained. “From the 15th century. Used by a witch coven in Prague for blood rituals.” She lifted it carefully. “Very rare. Very powerful. And very expensive.”

She handed the dagger to Erik. He took it, immediately feeling a cold radiating from the blade.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, trying to sound normal.

Katalin turned to Helena. “And you, my dear? Are you also interested in occult art? Or rather… personal artifacts?”

Helena finally raised her gaze. Her eyes met her mother’s.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

“Personal,” Helena whispered. “Very personal.”

Katalin’s smile deepened. “I have something that might interest you. Come.”

She led them deeper into the shop, toward a back room. Erik followed, his hand unconsciously drifting toward the taser in his pocket.

The back room was smaller, more intimate. Candles burned, casting dancing shadows. More artifacts hung on the walls, but these were different. Darker. More dangerous.

Katalin walked to a small altar where a single candle burned. Beside the candle lay a photograph.

She picked it up and handed it to Helena.

Helena looked at it—and all color drained from her face.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“A photograph,” Katalin said softly. “From a long time ago. Of a mother and her daughter.”

It was the same photo Dimitri had given Helena. The Elder, looking young, holding a baby.

“Where did you get this?” Helena’s voice trembled.

Katalin stepped closer. Very close. So close that Erik could feel the cold radiating from her.

“Because I was there,” Katalin whispered. “Because I held that baby. Because I…” She raised her hand and gently touched Helena’s cheek. “Because I gave birth to you, my child.”

Helena stumbled back, nearly falling. “No. You… you can’t—”

“But I can. And I am.” Katalin’s eyes began to glow. Red. Intense. “Welcome home, Helena. I have waited so long for you.”

Erik yanked out the taser, aimed it at Katalin—

She moved. Too fast to see. One moment she was there, the next she had grabbed Erik’s wrist and flung the taser away.

“How rude,” she said. “And you must be Erik Schönwaldt. The new bearer of the Soul Key.”

How did she know his name?

“Let him go!” Helena had drawn a small pistol and aimed it at Katalin.

Katalin laughed. “You would shoot your own mother? How tragic. How… human.”

“You are not my mother. You’re a monster.”

“I am both.” Katalin released Erik and turned to Helena. “And you, my child, are more like me than you care to admit.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Katalin stepped closer, unafraid of the gun. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting the darkness. But why? Because you hate it? Or because you fear it… within yourself?”

“Shut up.”

“You carry my blood, Helena. My strength. My potential.” Katalin’s eyes glowed brighter. “Why deny what you are? Why fight your nature?”

“Because my nature is human!” Helena’s voice broke. “I’m not you. I will never be like you!”

“Really?” Katalin smiled sadly. “Then why are you trembling? Why can’t you pull the trigger?”

Helena’s hand was indeed shaking. The gun wavered.

“Don’t do it,” Katalin whispered. “Don’t kill me, Helena. Not before you know the truth.”

“What truth?”

“The truth about the ritual. About the eternal night. About what will really happen if we succeed.” Katalin’s voice grew urgent. “It’s not what you think. It’s not destruction. It’s… transformation.”

“Lies.”

“Are they?” Katalin gestured to the artifacts on the walls. “Each of these objects tells a story. Of cultures that lived with the darkness. Of humans and vampires who coexisted. It was once possible. It could be possible again.”

“Through mass murder?”

“Through sacrifice.” Katalin’s voice hardened. “Yes, people will die. But not all of them. The strong will survive. They will adapt. And in the end, a new world will emerge. A better world.”

“For vampires.”

“For everyone.” Katalin held out her hand. “Join me, Helena. You and your brother. My children. Together we could—”

“No.” Helena pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening in the small room.

Katalin moved, but not fast enough. The bullet hit her shoulder and hurled her backward.

She slammed into the wall and slid to the floor.

“Run!” Helena shouted. “Erik, run!”

They ran. Through the back room, through the shop, to the door.

Behind them: Katalin’s laughter. Not in pain. Not angry.

Amused.

“Run, children,” she called. “But you can’t run forever. Sooner or later you will have to come back to me. And then you will understand.”

They reached the street and burst out into daylight.

People stared at them, startled by their panicked flight.

Helena grabbed Erik’s hand and pulled him along. “Keep going. We need to get away from here.”

They ran through streets, around corners, until they were sure no one was following.

Finally they stopped, gasping, in a side alley.

“You shot her,” Erik panted. “Your own mother.”

“She is not my mother.” Helena’s eyes were wild. “She is what gave birth to me. But she is not my mother.”

She slumped against a wall and slid to the ground.

“I failed,” she whispered. “I couldn’t kill her. I had the chance, and I only shot to escape.”

“You didn’t fail.” Erik knelt beside her. “You survived. We both survived.”

“But now she knows that we know. She’ll be prepared.”

“Good.” Erik’s voice was firm. “Then we’re even. Because now we’re prepared too.”

Helena looked at him. “How can we fight something like that? My own mother?”

“By remembering who we are.” Erik helped her to her feet. “You are Helena Konstantin. Leader of the Night Watch. And I am… well, I’m still figuring out who I am. But together—”

“Together we might have a chance,” Helena finished. She smiled faintly. “When did you become so optimistic?”

“When I stopped running.”

They headed back toward headquarters, moving more slowly now, cautiously.

The first encounter with the Elder was over.

But the war had only just begun.

CHAPTER 11
The Impossible Choice

The headquarters was in chaos when they returned.

Marcus stood in the conference room, loudly arguing on the phone, his voice echoing through the corridors. Yuki sat at her monitors, typing frantically. Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

“Where the hell were you?” Marcus hung up when he saw Helena and Erik. His face was red, a vein throbbing at his temple. “Three hours! Three hours without a word! Yuki said you were on a train to Salzburg, and then—”

“I’m sorry.” Helena raised her hands placatingly. “We had to… I had to clear something up.”

“Clear something up?” Marcus’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “While we’re out here risking our asses for the kids? While Thomas and I were at the Wagners’ place and almost got torn apart by a vampire?”

“What?” Erik stepped forward. “What happened?”

Marcus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “The Wagners. The cop and his wife. We got there, wanted to talk to them. But someone had already been there.”

“A vampire?”

“Two. Valentina and another one.” Marcus rubbed his face. “They already had the baby. When we arrived, the parents… they were still alive, but barely. Bitten, drained, unconscious.”

“And the baby?” Helena asked, though Erik could already see the answer in her eyes.

“Gone. They took it with them.” Marcus slammed his fist on the table. “We tried to follow them, but they were too fast. Vanished into the catacombs under Schwabing.”

“The parents?” Erik asked quietly.

“At the hospital. In a coma. Doctors say fifty-fifty.” Marcus looked straight at Helena. “Where were you, boss? When that happened, where were you?”

Helena didn’t look away. “I met my mother.”

Silence filled the room.

“Your mother is dead,” Marcus said finally. “That’s what you told us. Maria died twenty years ago.”

“Maria wasn’t my biological mother.” Helena pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. “My biological mother is Katalin. The Elder.”

Marcus stared at her. Then he laughed, disbelieving. “That’s a joke, right? Please tell me that’s a really bad joke.”

“I wish it were.”

“Shit.” Marcus dropped into another chair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Yuki had stood up from her monitors and stepped closer. “Helena, that means… your whole life—”

“Was a lie. Yes.” Helena’s voice was flat. “Dimitri told me today. With proof. And then I went to her. To her gallery.”

“You went there?” Marcus’s eyes widened. “Alone?”

“With me,” Erik said quickly. “We went together.”

“Oh, well then everything’s fine.” Marcus’s sarcasm cut like a knife. “The rookie and the boss, who just found out she’s the daughter of the top vampire, stroll into her shop. What could possibly go wrong?”

“We survived,” Helena said. “And we gathered information.”

“What kind of information?”

Helena told them everything. The gallery. The confrontation. Katalin’s words about transformation instead of destruction. And the shot.

“You shot her,” Marcus repeated in disbelief. “Your own mother.”

“She’s no longer human. She’s a monster.” Helena’s voice was firm, though Erik heard the uncertainty beneath it. “I did what had to be done.”

“And she still escaped.”

“She’s the Elder. Of course she escaped.” Helena stood and walked to the map of Munich on the wall. “But now we know where she’s hiding. That’s an advantage.”

“Or a trap,” Yuki interjected. “She let you go. She could have killed you, but she didn’t. Why?”

“Because she wants me.” Helena’s fingers traced the marked ley lines on the map. “She wants me to join her. Dimitri too. Her children, united under her rule.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Marcus said.

“No. It isn’t.” Helena turned around. “But we have to be careful. Katalin isn’t stupid. She plans three steps ahead. If she let us go, there was a reason.”

“What kind of reason?”

“That’s the question.” Helena returned to the table and spread out the list of families. “Marcus, you said the Wagners were attacked. Valentina has their baby. What about the other five?”

“Thomas is with the Özkans,” Marcus reported. “He’s performing the ritual. Alone—because I had to wait here for you.”

“Alone?” Helena’s voice sharpened. “That’s too dangerous. The vampires could—”

“They could, yes. But what were we supposed to do? You were gone, Erik was gone. The babies are dying.” Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Thomas made a decision.”

“When did he start?”

“An hour ago.” Marcus checked his watch. “He should be finishing soon. If everything goes well.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we have a dead priest and another lost baby.” Marcus’s words were harsh but honest. “That’s reality, boss.”

Helena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yuki, can you reach Thomas? Radio connection?”

“I’m trying.” Yuki returned to her monitors and put on a headset. “Thomas, this is HQ. Please respond.”

Static.

“Thomas, respond.”

More static. Then, faintly, a voice: “…here. Ritual… almost finished…”

“Are you safe?”

“…family is okay… baby responding… darkness resis—settling…”

The connection cut.

“Thomas!” Yuki typed frantically. “Damn it, I lost him.”

“Where is he?” Helena asked.

“Giesing. Apartment block at Candidplatz.” Yuki pointed to the address on the screen. “Ten minutes from here.”

“We’re going.” Helena grabbed her jacket. “Marcus, you and me. Erik, you stay here with Yuki.”

“No.” Erik shook his head. “You need the key. If the ritual goes wrong, if the darkness is too strong—”

“Erik’s right,” Marcus said reluctantly. “The key could be decisive.”

Helena looked between them. “Fine. But you stay behind us, understood? No heroics.”

“Understood.”

They ran to the garage. Marcus drove—too fast—ignoring traffic lights and speed limits. Helena sat in front, checking her weapons. Erik in the back, gripping the Soul Key tightly.

“What if Katalin is there?” Erik asked. “What if this is a trap?”

“Then we fight,” Marcus said curtly.

“Against the Elder? She’s—”

“Superior to us, I know.” Marcus took a corner on two wheels. “But we don’t have a choice. Thomas is there. Maybe in danger. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

They reached Candidplatz. The apartment block was typical postwar Munich architecture. Gray, functional, balconies full of laundry lines and bicycles.

“Third floor,” Helena said, jumping out before the car had fully stopped. “The Özkan family, apartment 3B.”

They ran inside. The stairwell smelled of cabbage and cleaning agent. Somewhere a baby was crying—but not with the unnatural scream of a transformed child.

Third floor. Apartment 3B. The door stood ajar.

Marcus drew his pistol. Helena her knife. Erik the Soul Key.

Marcus kicked the door open.

The sight that greeted them made Erik catch his breath.

Thomas lay on the floor, blood streaming from a wound on his forehead. Beside him: a young woman in a hijab, unconscious but breathing. And on the carpet, at the center of a broken chalk circle: a baby.

The baby—Ayşe—was crying. But it was normal crying. Her skin had color, her eyes were brown, human.

“The ritual was successful,” Thomas rasped. He tried to get up and fell back. “But then… they came…”

“Who came?” Helena knelt beside him.

“Valentina. And others. Three, four—I didn’t count exactly.” Thomas’s eyes were glassy. “They wanted the baby. I resisted, but…”

“Where are they now?” Marcus asked, weapon raised, scanning the other rooms.

“Gone. They fled when the baby started crying. Crying normally.” Thomas smiled weakly. “They didn’t want her anymore. She was useless to them.”

Erik went to the baby and gently picked her up. Ayşe calmed instantly, snuggling against him. So warm. So alive. So human.

“You saved her,” he whispered to Thomas.

“We saved her,” Thomas corrected. “All of us.”

Helena bandaged Thomas’s head wound with a kitchen towel. “Can you walk?”

“I think so. Just a bit dizzy.” Thomas stood, swaying slightly. Marcus supported him.

“And the mother?” Erik gestured toward the unconscious woman.

“Shock. The vampires didn’t hurt her, just frightened her.” Helena checked her pulse. “She’ll wake up. Confused, terrified, but alive.”

“We can’t leave her here,” Erik said. “If the vampires come back—”

“They won’t. Not for a healed baby.” Helena stood. “But you’re right. We’ll take her to HQ. All of them—the mother, the baby. Until this is over.”

“She won’t like that,” Marcus muttered. “Two families hidden in our headquarters. That’s a security risk.”

“Everything is a security risk.” Helena looked around the devastated apartment. “But living witnesses are better than dead ones. We’re taking them.”

They carried Mrs. Özkan and baby Ayşe down to the car. Some neighbors peeked out of their doors, but no one asked questions. In Munich, people learned to mind their own business.

On the drive back to HQ, tense silence reigned. Thomas held his wound, murmuring prayers. Mrs. Özkan began to wake, confused and panicked. Helena calmed her in German, then in broken Turkish.

“She says she saw monsters,” Helena translated. “Women with red eyes who came into her apartment.”

“What do we tell her?”

“The truth. Later. When she’s ready.” Helena looked out the window. “For now we tell her she’s safe. That’s all that matters.”

---

Back at headquarters, the situation had escalated further.

Yuki greeted them with grim news. “Two more families were attacked. The Schneiders in Neuhausen and the Müllers in Sendling.”

“And the babies?” Helena asked as Marcus led Mrs. Özkan and Ayşe into one of the rest rooms.

“Gone. Both of them. The parents survived, but the babies are gone.” Yuki’s face was ashen. “That makes three out of six. Half.”

“The other three?”

“I warned them. The families went underground, hiding with relatives. But…” Yuki hesitated. “We have no way to perform the rituals. Not without finding the babies.”

Helena sank into a chair. “Three babies in the Council’s hands. What do they want with them?”

“Sacrifices,” said Thomas, who had just returned with Marcus. “For the ritual of the Eternal Night. Katalin is collecting them.”

“But why babies?” Erik asked. “Adults would be easier to obtain.”

“Innocence,” Thomas replied. “The purest form. Untainted souls. They amplify the power of the ritual.” He sat heavily. “And half-transformed babies are even more valuable. They’re already connected to the darkness, but not fully. Perfect for—”

“For a bridge,” Helena interrupted. “Between life and death. Between light and darkness.”

“Exactly.”

“Then we have to get them back,” Erik said. “The three babies. Before the summer solstice.”

“That’s seven months,” Marcus said. “We have time.”

“Do we?” Helena stood and went to the map. “Katalin has revealed herself. She knows that we know. What if she accelerates? What if she performs the ritual earlier?”

“Impossible,” Yuki said. “The summer solstice is crucial. The ley lines are only strong enough then.”

“Are you sure?”

Yuki hesitated. “Ninety percent sure.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“Is the risk we have to take.” Yuki came to the table and spread out her research. “I’ve analyzed every text on the ritual of the Eternal Night. All reports, all legends. The summer solstice is always mentioned. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Unless there are exceptions,” Helena murmured. “Exceptions that weren’t written down.”

“Or that were lost,” Thomas added. “Many occult texts were destroyed over the centuries. By the Church, by hunters, by the vampires themselves.”

“Then we assume we have seven months,” Helena decided. “But we act as if we have seven weeks. We accelerate everything.”

“What’s the plan?” Marcus asked.

Helena took a deep breath. “We find the babies. Wherever Katalin has hidden them, we find them. And we bring them back.”

“And how?” Marcus’s skepticism was obvious. “Munich is huge. The catacombs alone are a labyrinth. We could search for years.”

“Then we use a decoy,” Helena said.

“What kind of decoy?”

Helena looked at Erik. “The Soul Key.”

Erik felt his stomach tighten. “What?”

“Katalin wants it. She said so in the gallery. The key is part of her plans.” Helena stepped closer. “If we use it as bait, she’ll come. Or she’ll send her servants.”

“You want me to make myself a target.”

“I want us to set a trap. With you as the bait, yes. But protected. Guarded. We control the situation.”

“And if she’s too strong? If she overpowers me?”

“Then we all die,” Marcus said dryly. “But hey, don’t worry. It’ll be quick.”

“Marcus,” Helena scolded.

“What? It’s the truth.” Marcus crossed his arms. “The plan is risky. But I don’t see an alternative. We can’t wait passively. We have to act.”

Erik looked at the key in his hand. The metal was warm, pulsing faintly. As if waiting for his decision.

“Where would we set the trap?” he asked.

“One of the ley-line nodes,” Helena said. “Viktualienmarkt, maybe. Public, but not too crowded at night. We can control the surroundings.”

“And when?”

“Tonight.”

“So soon?” Yuki looked worried. “We need more preparation time. More equipment.”

“We don’t have time.” Helena’s voice was firm. “Katalin is accelerating. She took three babies today. If we wait, she’ll take the remaining three.”

“They’re hidden,” Marcus reminded her.

“Hidden isn’t safe. Not from her.” Helena looked at each of them. “We do it tonight. Final offer.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Marcus said after a moment.

“I’ll coordinate from here,” Yuki offered. “Cameras, surveillance, backup.”

All eyes turned to Erik.

“Erik?” Helena’s voice was gentle. “No one is forcing you. If you say no, we’ll find another way.”

Erik thought of the babies. Lukas, saved. Sophie, half-saved. Ayşe, just saved. And the three others, trapped somewhere in the darkness.

He thought of Clara, who had sacrificed herself. Of his great-grandparents, who had gone into the flames.

Of all the people who died because no one acted.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “But one condition.”

“Which?”

“If Katalin comes. If she appears in person.” Erik looked Helena straight in the eyes. “Then I’m the one who confronts her. Not you.”

“Erik—”

“No. Listen.” Erik stood. “She’s your mother. Biologically, at least. You proved today that you can shoot her. But kill her?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if you’re capable of that. And you shouldn’t have to be.”

“But you are?”

“I have no emotional conflict. To me, she’s just a monster. A very powerful monster.” Erik’s hands clenched into fists. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Helena was silent for a long time. Then, almost inaudibly: “Thank you.”

“Touching,” Marcus said. “But can we finalize the plan now? Time’s short.”

The next hours passed in intense preparation.

Yuki hacked into the surveillance systems around the Viktualienmarkt. Marcus inspected weapons, prepared traps—silver nets, consecrated grenades, UV lamps. Thomas prayed, blessed equipment, prepared binding circles.

And Erik practiced with the Soul Key.

In the small training room, alone, he tried to perfect his control. Calling the light without panic. Holding it without losing himself.

It got better. Not perfect, but better.

“You’re learning fast,” a voice said behind him.

Erik turned. Helena stood in the doorway.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“No one can sleep. Not before a mission like this.” She stepped inside and closed the door. “May I?”

“Of course.”

She sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. Erik sat opposite her.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “For earlier. For offering to confront Katalin.”

“I meant it.”

“I know. That’s what makes it… complicated.” Helena looked at her hands. “Part of me wants her dead. The monster who killed thousands. But another part—” She broke off.

“Wants the mother you never had,” Erik finished softly.

“Is that pathetic?”

“No. That’s human.” Erik leaned forward. “But Helena, you have to understand—she’ll exploit that weakness. She already did today. She’ll do it again.”

“I know.”

“That’s why it’s better if I do it. When the time comes.”

Helena nodded slowly. “But promise me something.”

“What?”

“Don’t hesitate. If you have the chance to kill her—do it. Immediately. Without thinking.” Her eyes met his, intense. “Because if you hesitate, she’ll kill you. And then all of us.”

“I promise.”

They stood. Helena held out her hand. Erik shook it.

“For the babies,” she said.

“For the babies,” Erik echoed.

---

At 10:00 p.m., they set out.

The Viktualienmarkt lay quiet beneath the night sky. The stalls were closed, covered with tarps. Only a few streetlights cast yellow light onto the empty paths.

Erik stood in the center, by the maypole. Alone. Visible.

In his hand: the Soul Key, openly displayed, glowing in the dark.

The perfect bait.

Marcus was on a rooftop with a sniper rifle. Thomas in the shadows, ready with his binding circles. Helena hidden behind a stall, only twenty meters away.

And Yuki at headquarters, watching through a dozen cameras.

“Position taken,” Erik whispered into his mic.

“Received,” Yuki’s voice replied. “All cameras online. No movement so far.”

“Patience,” Marcus murmured. “They’ll come.”

They waited.

One minute. Five minutes. Ten.

Erik felt sweat on his forehead despite the cold. His hands clenched the key, felt its pulsing.

“Movement,” Yuki said suddenly. “Eastern side. Three figures.”

Erik turned. There—between the stalls—shadows emerged.

Vampires. He recognized them instantly by the way they moved. Too fluid. Too fast.

They came closer. Two men, one woman. The woman was Valentina.

They stopped ten meters away.

“The bearer of the Soul Key,” Valentina said. Her smile was cold. “How brave of you to come alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Erik said.

“Of course not. Your friends are hiding. Like rats.” Valentina’s eyes glowed. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re here. The key is here. That’s all that matters.”

“You want it? Come and get it.”

“That easy?” Valentina laughed. “You think this is a trap. That your friends will overwhelm us if we attack.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe. But do you know what’s funny?” Valentina stepped closer. One step. Another. “We have a trap too.”

A scream.

Not from Erik. From behind him.

He spun around.

Thomas lay on the ground, a figure looming over him. A vampire they hadn’t seen, materializing from the shadows.

“Thomas!” Helena burst from her hiding place, weapon drawn.

But it was too late.

The vampire yanked Thomas up, holding him as a shield.

“Drop your weapons,” the vampire said. “Or the priest dies.”

“Don’t shoot!” Thomas shouted. “It’s a trap, they—”

The vampire struck him in the face. Thomas’s head snapped to the side.

“Weapons. Now.”

Helena hesitated. Then she dropped her pistol.

“You too, rooftop shooter,” the vampire called upward. “I can smell you.”

Marcus cursed, but his rifle fell from the roof, clattering onto the pavement.

“Good. Very good.” The vampire smiled. “And now, bearer, give us the key.”

“No,” Erik said.

“Then he dies.”

“If he dies, I’ll make the key explode.” Erik raised it higher. “And take all of us with it.”

It was a lie. He had no idea if the key could explode. But he had to buy time.

The vampire hesitated.

“He’s bluffing,” Valentina said. “Kill the priest.”

“Wait!” A new voice spoke. From the shadows.

A figure stepped into the light.

Dimitri.

He looked from one of them to the other. Then he smiled.

“No one has to die,” he said. “At least not tonight. I have a better offer.”

“What kind of offer?” Helena asked, her voice tight.

“A trade.” Dimitri came closer, his hands raised as if to show he was unarmed. “The key in exchange for the babies.”

Silence.

“All three,” Dimitri continued. “Unharmed, healed. We give them back to you. In exchange for the Soul Key.”

“That’s a lie,” Marcus said from somewhere in the darkness.

“Is it?” Dimitri looked at Helena. “Sister, you know me. I may be a monster, but I don’t lie. Not in business.”

“You’re offering us three babies for the key,” Helena said slowly. “Why?”

“Because the Elder is merciful. She sees you fighting, suffering. And she offers a way out.” Dimitri’s eyes glowed faintly. “The babies for the key. A life for a tool. A fair trade.”

“And the ritual?” Erik asked. “The Eternal Night?”

“Will still happen. With or without the key.” Dimitri shrugged. “But with the key, it will be… easier. Less bloody. Fewer sacrifices.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dimitri’s smile widened. “But the question is: are you willing to take the risk? Three innocent babies for your paranoia?”

Erik looked at Helena. Her eyes were wide, tortured.

“Don’t do it,” Thomas whispered, still held by the vampire. “Erik, don’t give them the key.”

“But the babies—”

“Are already lost,” Thomas said. “If you give them the key, we’re all lost.”

“He’s right,” Marcus’s voice came. “It’s a trap.”

“Or it’s a chance,” Dimitri countered. “A chance to save lives. Isn’t that what this is about?”

Erik felt the weight of the key in his hand. The pulsing, growing stronger.

Three babies. Innocent lives.

Against an artifact. A tool.

An impossible choice.

“I need guarantees,” Erik said finally. “Proof that the babies are alive. That you’ll really give them back.”

“Of course.” Dimitri nodded to one of the other vampires.

The vampire pulled out a phone and showed a video.

Three babies. In cribs. Sleeping. Their tiny chests rising and falling.

Alive.

“Satisfied?” Dimitri asked.

Erik looked at Helena. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

“It’s your decision,” she whispered. “I can’t make it for you.”

Erik closed his eyes.

What would Clara do?

What would his great-grandparents do?

He opened his eyes.

“No,” he said. “No deal.”

Dimitri’s smile vanished. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” said a new voice, “let me make a better one.”

Everyone turned.

From the shadows stepped Katalin.

The Elder.

She looked at Erik, her smile cold as ice.

“The key,” she said. “In exchange for Helena.”

CHAPTER 12
The Ritual of Reversal

The world seemed to stand still.

Katalin stood there, ten meters away, dressed in an elegant black gown as if she were on her way to a gala. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, her face timelessly beautiful—and utterly devoid of emotion.

“Mother,” Helena whispered.

“Daughter.” Katalin’s voice was gentle, almost affectionate. “How lovely to see you again. Under… better circumstances.”

“What do you mean by ‘Helena for the key’?” Erik’s voice was sharper than he intended.

“Exactly what I say.” Katalin stepped closer, her movements fluid, hypnotic. “You give me the Soul Key. In return, I give you the three babies. And Helena comes with me.”

“This is madness,” Marcus said from his hiding place. “Helena isn’t merchandise!”

“But the key is?” Katalin smiled. “Interesting priorities you hunters have.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Helena said. Her hand moved toward her weapon on the ground.

“Don’t.” Katalin’s eyes suddenly flared, glowing an intense red. “Touch the weapon and the priest dies. Then the others. And then you.”

Helena’s hand froze.

“Good.” Katalin relaxed again. “You see, I’m not here to kill. On the contrary. I’m here to save lives. Three small lives. All I’m asking for is a conversation. With my daughter. In private.”

“A conversation,” Helena repeated skeptically. “That’s all?”

“That’s all. No coercion. No transformation. Just a conversation between mother and daughter.” Katalin raised her hands, palms open. “After that, you’re free to go. If you want.”

“And the key?”

“Stays with me. As… insurance.” Katalin glanced at Erik. “But don’t worry, young bearer. I’ll treat it well. Like a member of my family.”

“The key isn’t a person,” Erik said.

“Are you sure?” Katalin’s smile turned enigmatic. “You feel its heart beating. You sense its will. How is that different from a person?”

Erik had no answer.

“Helena, don’t do this,” Thomas said, his voice weak from the blow. “She’s manipulating you.”

“Of course I am,” Katalin said bluntly. “Manipulation is my craft. But that doesn’t make my offer any less real. Three babies. For a conversation and an old piece of metal.”

“And if Helena says no?” Erik asked.

“Then we all go home empty-handed. You without the babies. I without the key or my daughter.” Katalin shrugged. “But the babies stay with me. And in seven months, at the summer solstice, they’ll become part of something greater. Something wonderful.”

“Something terrible,” Helena corrected.

“That’s a matter of perspective.” Katalin stepped even closer, now only five meters away. “Helena, my love, I know you’re afraid. Afraid of me, afraid of what I am. But I’m still your mother. I carried you for nine months. I gave birth to you. That bond cannot be broken.”

“You gave me away.”

“Because I thought it would be better for you. A normal life, without the burden of knowledge.” Katalin’s eyes softened—or she pretended they did. “But now you’re here. You know the truth. And I’m giving you the chance to understand it fully.”

Helena was silent for a long time. Erik could see her struggle, torn between duty and curiosity, between hatred and something else.

“One hour,” Helena said at last. “You get one hour. And the babies are handed over first.”

“Helena, no!” Marcus’s voice was sharp. “This is—”

“My decision,” Helena cut in. She looked at Erik. “The key stays with you. Don’t give it to her.”

“But—”

“That’s an order.” Helena’s eyes were steady. “Keep it. Protect it. No matter the cost.”

Erik nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words.

Katalin smiled triumphantly. “A wise decision, daughter. Dimitri?”

Dimitri stepped forward, speaking quietly into a radio. Minutes later, two more vampires appeared, carrying three infant carriers.

They set them down in the middle of the square, ten meters from Erik.

“The babies,” Katalin said. “As promised. Unharmed.”

Marcus emerged from the darkness, cautiously, his weapon still trained on the vampires. He checked each carrier.

“They’re alive,” he confirmed tensely. “But they’re still infected. The wounds are there.”

“Of course they’re still infected,” Katalin said. “The reversal ritual still needs to be performed. But they’re alive. That was the deal.”

“You said they were cured!”

“I said they were unharmed. And they are. No new injuries, no additional suffering.” Katalin’s voice grew colder. “If you expected more, that was your misunderstanding.”

“That’s fraud!”

“That’s negotiation.” Katalin turned to Helena. “Now, shall we? Or must we stand here in the cold any longer?”

Helena looked at Thomas, who had now been released by the vampire and had collapsed to the ground. Then at Marcus, who drew the babies protectively toward himself. And finally at Erik.

“Take care of them,” she said softly. “All of them.”

“Helena—”

“Promise me.”

Erik nodded, too tense to speak.

Helena walked over to Katalin. Mother and daughter stood facing each other, two mirror images from different times.

“No tricks,” Helena said. “One hour. Then you let me go.”

“No tricks,” Katalin confirmed. She held out her hand.

After a long moment, Helena took it.

“Valentina, Dimitri—come with me. The others, stay and… observe.” Katalin smiled at Erik. “We’ll see each other again soon, bearer. I hope you use this time wisely.”

They vanished. Just like that. Helena, Katalin, Dimitri, and Valentina dissolved into the shadows, too fast for the eye to follow.

Left behind were Erik, Thomas, Marcus, the three babies, and half a dozen vampires watching them from the darkness.

“What now?” Erik whispered.

“Now,” Marcus said, carefully lifting the infant carriers, “we take these children home. And pray that Helena knows what she’s doing.”

---

The drive back to headquarters was tense.

Marcus drove with the three infant carriers in the back. Thomas sat in the front, holding his head wound. Erik, in the passenger seat, clutched the Soul Key and watched the streets behind them.

“They’re not following us,” Marcus said after a few minutes. “At least not obviously.”

“Katalin has what she wants,” Thomas murmured. “Helena.”

“But not the key,” Erik said, looking down at the artifact. “Why didn’t she insist on it?”

“Because she’s buying time,” Marcus said. “One hour with Helena. What can she do in an hour?”

“Convince. Manipulate. Sow doubt.” Thomas’s voice was weak. “Katalin is centuries old. She knows how to break people. Not through violence, but through words.”

“Helena is strong.”

“Is she?” Thomas looked at Erik. “She just found out that her mother is the source of all evil. That her entire life was a lie. How strong can anyone be under that weight?”

Erik had no answer.

They reached headquarters. Yuki was already waiting, pale and nervous.

“I saw everything,” she said as they got out. “The cameras… Helena went with her voluntarily.”

“She had no choice,” Marcus said, carrying the infant carriers inside. “Where do we take them?”

“The medical room. I’ve prepared everything for the rituals.” Yuki looked at the babies, her face softening. “The poor things. How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Thomas said, following unsteadily. “We need to begin immediately. The longer we wait, the stronger the darkness becomes.”

They carried the babies into a room Erik had never seen before. It was larger than the others, outfitted like a small hospital room, but with additions—candles in the corners, chalk circles on the floor, shelves full of occult artifacts.

“Three rituals, one after another,” Thomas said, beginning to prepare the tools. “We need to be fast.”

“Can we do this without Helena?” Yuki asked.

“We have to.” Thomas looked at Erik. “You saved Lukas and Sophie. You can save these too.”

“But I was exhausted after just one ritual. Three—”

“Will almost kill you, yes.” Thomas’s smile was sad. “But almost isn’t quite. You’re young. You’re strong. You’ll survive.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then these children die.” Thomas’s words were harsh, but honest. “Choice is an illusion, Erik. Sometimes there is only duty.”

Erik took a deep breath. “Then let’s begin.”

---

The first ritual was for baby Leon Müller. Four weeks old, first infection two weeks ago.

Erik followed the familiar sequence. The mother’s blood—Mrs. Müller was at headquarters, brought in by Marcus. The child’s blood. His own blood.

The glowing water. The blessing. And then the Soul Key.

Erik called the light. It came more easily this time, as if the key had learned to obey him.

The darkness seeped out of Leon. Black, oily, vile. It writhed, tried to escape, but the light held it fast.

Let us go, whispered the darkness. He belongs to us.

“No,” Erik forced out.

You are weak. You cannot save three. You will fail.

“I will not fail.”

The light intensified. The darkness screamed—a high, piercing sound that hurt physically—and then disintegrated into smoke.

Leon breathed. Normally. Human.

The first ritual was complete.

Erik collapsed into a chair, drenched in sweat, trembling.

“Drink this.” Yuki handed him a bottle of water. “You need fluids. And this.” A pill.

“What is it?”

“Multivitamins. And a mild stimulant. To keep you awake.” Yuki’s face was worried. “Erik, are you sure you can continue?”

“I have to.” Erik drank, swallowed the pill. “How much time has passed?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. That meant Helena had been with Katalin for nearly half an hour.

What’s happening there?

“Next baby,” Thomas said. “Emma Schneider. Six weeks old. First infection three weeks ago.”

Emma was worse. The transformation was further along. The wounds deeper, the skin paler.

The ritual began. Blood, blessing, key.

But this time the darkness resisted more fiercely.

It didn’t seep out of Emma—it poured out. Black and massive, filling the room with cold.

Erik raised the key higher, called more light.

But it wasn’t enough.

The darkness began to surround him, to close in.

You are exhausted, it whispered. Your strength is fading. Let go. Rest.

“No!”

You cannot save them all. Choose. This child or the next. But not both.

“I will save both!”

Erik pushed with everything he had. The light from the key exploded, brighter than ever before.

Too bright.

Erik screamed. The pain was unbearable, as if the key were burning him from the inside.

But the darkness shattered. Splintered into a thousand pieces and dissolved.

Emma breathed.

Erik collapsed to the floor.

“Erik!” Yuki and Thomas rushed to him.

“I… I’m okay,” Erik gasped. “Just… just tired.”

“Too tired.” Thomas felt his pulse. “Your heart is racing. You have to stop.”

“One baby left. Just one more.” Erik tried to stand, fell back. “I can do it.”

“You will die.”

“Then I’ll die.” Erik met Thomas’s eyes. “But I won’t give up. Not now.”

Thomas was silent for a long time. Then he nodded. “Your choice. But if it becomes too much, if you feel the key taking over—stop. Immediately.”

“I promise.”

The third baby. The Wagner baby—they hadn’t given it a name yet.

The youngest. Only three weeks old. But the transformation was the most advanced.

“Why?” Erik asked as Thomas prepared the ritual. “Why is this baby the worst?”

“Because it was bitten first,” Thomas answered. “Almost four weeks ago. It had the most time to absorb the darkness.”

“Can we save it?”

“I don’t know. But we have to try.”

The ritual began.

And immediately Erik knew: this was different.

The darkness in this baby wasn’t just stronger. It was smarter. More aware.

As the consecrated water flowed over the baby’s forehead, its eyes opened.

Red. Glowing red.

And it smiled.

“That’s not good,” Yuki murmured.

Erik raised the key. Called the light.

But the darkness didn’t come out.

Instead, it withdrew. Deeper into the baby. Hiding.

“It’s fleeing,” Thomas said. “It knows it can be defeated, so it’s hiding.”

“What do we do?”

“You have to go in.” Thomas’s eyes were grave. “Into the child. With the key. Follow the darkness where it hides.”

“In? How?”

“The key opens doors. Not just physical ones. Spiritual ones too.” Thomas placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “But be warned: if you go in, you could lose yourself. The darkness will try to trap you, make you part of it.”

“And if I don’t go?”

“Then the baby dies. Slowly. Over days. It becomes something neither human nor vampire. An abomination.”

Erik looked at the baby. So small. So helpless.

“Show me how.”

Thomas guided him through the steps. Erik had to press the key to the baby’s forehead. Close his eyes. Breathe. Synchronize with the pulsing of the key.

And then… let go.

Erik did.

The world blurred.

---

He was no longer in the room.

He was… somewhere else.

Dark. So dark he couldn’t see his own hand.

But the key glowed. A small point of light in the endless black.

“Hello?” Erik’s voice echoed, strangely distorted.

No answer.

He moved forward. Or thought he did. There was no direction here.

Then, from the darkness: a figure.

Small. Child-sized.

No. Baby-sized.

It was the Wagner baby. But… different. It stood upright, impossible for a three-week-old child. Its eyes glowed red, but with far more intelligence than they should have.

“You came,” the baby said. The voice was not a baby’s. It was old. Ancient. “How brave. How foolish.”

“Who are you?” Erik asked.

“I am the darkness. I am what remains when the light goes out.” The baby smiled, showing tiny sharp teeth. “I am the end.”

“You’re a parasite. And I’m going to remove you.”

“Will you?” The baby laughed. “Look around you, bearer. You are in my world. Here, I have the power.”

The darkness began to move. To grow. It rose around Erik, forming walls, then a ceiling. A cage of shadows.

“You are trapped,” the baby said. “Just like all before you who tried to fight me.”

“All?” Erik’s heart sank. “You mean other bearers of the key?”

“Oh yes. So many. Over the centuries.” The darkness flickered, showing images. Faces. People who carried the key, who entered the darkness and never returned. “You will be the next. Your soul will join the collection.”

“No.” Erik raised the key. The light pulsed. “I’m not like them.”

“Really? What makes you so special?”

“I…” Erik hesitated. What did make him special? He wasn’t a hero. Not a great warrior. Just a man in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or the right place at the right time.

“I have people counting on me,” Erik said finally. “Helena. Marcus. Thomas. Yuki. The families of these children.” He stepped closer to the baby. “And this baby has parents who love it. Who want it to live. Live normally.”

“Love.” The darkness laughed. “What is love against eternity?”

“Everything.” Erik’s voice grew firm. “Love is why we fight. Why we don’t give up. Why I won’t give up.”

He pressed the key against the baby.

The light exploded.

The darkness screamed, tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to go.

Erik felt the key grow hot in his hand. Too hot. Almost unbearable.

But he didn’t let go.

“For the baby,” he whispered. “For all of them.”

The light became blinding. The darkness began to crack, to shatter.

“You… you cannot destroy me,” the darkness stammered. “I am eternal! I am—”

“You are nothing,” Erik pressed harder. “And now you’re gone.”

A final scream. Then silence.

The darkness was gone.

Erik opened his eyes.

He was back in the room. Lying on the floor. The key still in his hand, now cold.

Thomas and Yuki bent over him.

“Erik? Can you hear me?”

“I… yes.” Erik sat up, every movement painful. “The baby?”

Thomas gestured toward the crib.

The Wagner baby lay there, sleeping peacefully. The wounds on its neck were gone. Its skin had color. Its tiny chest rose and fell with the rhythm of normal breathing.

“You did it,” Yuki whispered. Tears streamed down her face. “All three. You saved them all.”

Erik smiled weakly. Then everything went black.

---

When he woke again, he was in one of the rest rooms.

How long he had been unconscious, he didn’t know.

The door opened. Marcus came in.

“You’re awake. Good.” Marcus sat down on a chair. “You were out for four hours. We thought you’d killed yourself.”

“The babies?”

“All stable. Healed. Their families are with them.” Marcus smiled faintly. “You’re one hell of a hero, rookie.”

“I don’t feel like a hero.” Erik tried to sit up, waved it off. “Helena? Is she back?”

Marcus’s smile vanished. “No.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since she went with Katalin? Five hours.”

“But the deal was one hour!”

“I know.” Marcus rubbed his face. “We tried to track her, but the transmitter is dead. Either found and destroyed, or…” He left the sentence unfinished.

“We have to find her!”

“And where do we look?” Marcus’s frustration was clear. “Munich is huge. The catacombs are a labyrinth. We have no idea where Katalin took her.”

“Then we ask someone who knows.” Erik stood up, ignoring the dizziness. “Dimitri. He was there.”

“Dimitri won’t talk to us.”

“Maybe he will. If we offer the right thing.” Erik reached for the Soul Key lying on a bedside table. “He wants this. They all want it.”

“You want to offer yourself as bait again? After what just happened?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Marcus was silent.

“Exactly.” Erik headed for the door. “Call the team. We’re bringing Helena back.”

“And if she doesn’t want to come back?” The question hung in the air, too big, too frightening.

“Then we convince her,” Erik said simply. “The way she convinced us.”

He left the room, the key clenched tightly in his hand.

Helena had saved him. Had given him a chance.

Now it was time for him to do the same for her.

CHAPTER 13
The Trap

The conference room was tense when Erik entered.

Thomas sat at the table, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head. Yuki was typing feverishly on her laptop. Marcus leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his face a mask of worry and anger.

“Four hours without any sign of life,” Yuki said without looking up. “Her tracker is definitely dead. Phone switched off. No activity on her credit cards or accounts.”

“She’s either being held captive or hiding,” Thomas said quietly. “Or—”

“Don’t say it,” Marcus cut in sharply. “Don’t say she joined them.”

“I’m just saying it’s a possibility. Katalin is her mother. Dimitri is her brother.” Thomas’s voice was gentle but firm. “Family bonds are strong. Even among the strongest of us.”

“Helena would never betray us.” Marcus’s hands clenched into fists. “She’s spent her entire life fighting those monsters.”

“But she’s also spent her entire life longing for a family,” Thomas countered. “For connection. Belonging. Katalin offers her exactly that.”

“Through lies and manipulation!”

“Perhaps. But effective lies.” Thomas looked at Erik. “You were with her when she confronted Katalin. What was she like? What did you see?”

Erik thought back to the moment in the gallery. Helena’s trembling hand. The tears in her eyes. The longing mixed with hatred.

“She was torn,” he said at last. “But in the end, she pulled the trigger. She chose us.”

“In the end, yes. But after five hours alone with Katalin?” Thomas shook his head. “People change, Erik. Especially under emotional pressure.”

“Then we find her before it’s too late.” Erik placed the Soul Key on the table. “Marcus was right—we use this as bait. Dimitri wants it. We lure him out, force him to tell us where Helena is.”

“And if he lies to us?” Yuki asked.

“Then we follow him. Track him. He’ll return to Katalin sooner or later.” Erik looked at each of them. “We don’t have any other choice.”

“Actually,” came a new voice from the doorway, “you might.”

Everyone turned.

Anna Berger stood there, Lukas in her arms. Behind her were Mrs. Hartmann with Sophie and Mrs. Özkan with Ayşe.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus asked. “You’re supposed to stay in your rooms.”

“We couldn’t,” Anna said, stepping inside. “We heard what happened. Dr. Konstantin is gone. Because of us. Because of our children.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“But we can help.” Anna approached the table. “Before you found us, before you performed the rituals—the vampires who bit our babies. They sometimes talked. To each other. They thought we wouldn’t listen or understand.”

“What did they say?” Erik asked, intrigued.

“Places. Names.” Anna looked at the other mothers. “Mrs. Hartmann, you tell them.”

The older woman stepped forward. “The vampire who came into my house—the woman, Valentina. She was on the phone once, when she thought I was unconscious. She said something about ‘the gathering beneath the old church.’ I assumed she meant a church here in Munich.”

“Which church?” Yuki asked, already typing.

“She didn’t name it. But she said it was in the old town. And that it was deep. Very deep.”

“The catacombs beneath St. Peter’s Church,” Thomas said immediately. “That fits. St. Peter’s is Munich’s oldest church. Eleventh century. And the catacombs underneath are a labyrinth.”

“I’ve been there once on a tour,” Yuki said. “But the public areas are small. Maybe fifty meters of tunnels.”

“The public areas, yes. But there’s more.” Thomas stood and walked to the map of Munich. “The old town sits on a network of medieval tunnels. Some are mapped, most aren’t. Beneath St. Peter’s there are rumors of an ancient temple. Pre-Roman. A place of power.”

“A perfect place for vampires to hide,” Marcus muttered.

“Or to prepare a ritual,” Erik added. “Yuki, is St. Peter’s on one of the ley lines?”

Yuki checked her maps. “Yes. In fact, it’s right where two lines intersect. A nexus.”

“Then that’s our destination.” Erik felt a mix of fear and resolve. “We go in. We find Helena. We bring her back.”

“That’s suicide,” Marcus said flatly. “If Katalin is there, if the entire council is there—we’re four against dozens of vampires.”

“Five,” came a weak voice.

Everyone turned to the door.

Mrs. Wagner stood there. The police officer’s wife. The mother of the third rescued baby. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were steady.

“My husband,” she said quietly. “He’s in a coma because of those monsters. My son would be dead without you. If there’s a chance to fight, to help…” She stepped inside. “I’m in.”

“You’re not a fighter,” Marcus said gently.

“No. But I’m a nurse. I know anatomy, first aid, how to keep people alive.” Mrs. Wagner’s voice grew firmer. “You’ll need medical support. I’m offering it.”

Erik looked at the other mothers. “And you? Do you want to help too?”

Anna nodded. “We owe Dr. Konstantin our lives. Our children’s lives. We can’t ignore that.”

“This is too dangerous,” Thomas began.

“Everything we’ve lived through in the last few weeks was dangerous,” Anna interrupted. “We’re not going to stay here and wait anyway. Better to do something useful.”

Marcus looked at Erik, then at Thomas. A silent exchange. Finally, he sighed.

“All right. But you stay as backup. No direct confrontation. Support only.” He went to a cabinet and opened it. Inside: radios, first-aid kits, UV flashlights. “We gear you up. And you follow our orders. Understood?”

The women nodded.

“Good.” Marcus began handing out equipment. “Then we prepare. We move out in one hour.”

---

The preparations passed in tense silence.

Erik practiced again with the Soul Key, trying to ignore his exhaustion. His body still ached from the three rituals, but there was no time to rest.

“You shouldn’t go,” Yuki said quietly. She had joined him in the training room. “Your body needs recovery. If you use the key again so soon after the rituals—”

“I know. I risk losing my soul.” Erik let the key’s light flare briefly, controlled, then fade. “But I can’t abandon Helena.”

“Helena would want you safe.”

“Helena would do the same for me. For any of us.” Erik looked at her. “You’ll stay here and coordinate from headquarters?”

“Yes. Someone has to handle surveillance, monitor the cameras.” Yuki hesitated. “Erik, if you… if you don’t come back. What should I do with the key?”

“Destroy it.”

“What?”

“If I don’t come back, if Katalin gets me and the key—destroy it. However necessary. Melt it down, throw it into the sea, whatever.” Erik’s voice was firm. “The council must not have it.”

“I don’t know how to destroy a mystical key.”

“Then improvise.” Erik tried to smile. “You’re good at that.”

Yuki didn’t smile back. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise to try.”

---

At 11:00 p.m., they gathered in the garage.

Two teams. The first: Marcus, Thomas, and Erik, who would go directly into the catacombs. The second: the three mothers and Mrs. Wagner, serving as backup and medical support.

“Channel three for the first team, channel four for backup,” Yuki explained, handing out radios. “I’m on both channels. If anything goes wrong, call immediately.”

“Weapons?” Marcus checked his pistol, loading it with silver bullets.

“For the first team: pistols, knives, UV lamps, holy water, banishment chalk.” Thomas packed his gear into a backpack. “For backup: tasers, UV flashlights, first-aid kits.”

“And the key.” Erik secured it on a chain around his neck, tucked it beneath his shirt. “Always with me.”

They drove in two cars. The old town was surprisingly lively for a late November night—tourists, locals, remnants of nightlife. St. Peter’s Church towered over Marienplatz, its Gothic silhouette dark against the cloudy sky.

“The public entrance to the catacombs is closed,” Marcus said, parking in a side street. “But I know another way.”

He led them to an unassuming building next to the church. An old bakery, closed for years. Marcus pulled out a lock pick and opened the back door.

“When did you learn that?” Erik asked.

“Police academy. Before I joined the night watch.” Marcus grinned briefly. “You pick up useful skills.”

They went inside. The bakery interior was dusty, abandoned. Marcus moved straight to a trapdoor in the floor, half-hidden by old shelves.

“Here.” He opened it. Beneath was a stone staircase leading down. “This tunnel was used as an air-raid shelter in World War II. It connects several buildings in the old town—including the catacombs beneath the church.”

“How do you know this?” Thomas asked.

“Helena showed me. Years ago, when we first explored the catacombs.” Marcus’s voice softened. “She knew every hidden path in this city.”

They descended. The air grew colder, damper. The stone steps were steep, worn smooth by centuries of use.

At the bottom: a tunnel. Low, narrow, lit only by their flashlights.

“The backup team stays here,” Marcus ordered. “If we’re not back in ten minutes, call for reinforcements.”

“What reinforcements?” Anna asked. “The police wouldn’t believe us.”

“Then improvise.” Marcus handed her a radio. “Yuki will tell you what to do.”

They moved on, leaving the mothers behind. The tunnel stretched for a hundred meters, then branched.

“Left,” Thomas said. “I feel something. A presence.”

“Vampires?”

“Maybe. Or something older.” Thomas’s hand went to his crucifix. “Stay alert.”

They took the left tunnel. It sloped downward, deeper. The walls grew rougher, less worked. No modern construction here. This was old. Very old.

After another fifty meters, the tunnel opened into a chamber.

And there, on the walls: symbols. Carved into the stone. Not Christian. Not Roman. Something far older.

“Celtic,” Thomas whispered in awe. “This is a pre-Roman temple. I’ve read about it, but I thought it was a legend.”

“Legends are often true,” Marcus muttered. “Especially in our world.”

In the center of the chamber stood an altar. Solid stone, stained with dried blood.

And behind it: a door. Closed. Wood and iron, etched with symbols that glowed faintly in the light of their lamps.

“That’s it,” Erik said. “Behind that door. They’re there.”

“How can you know?” Marcus asked.

Erik touched the key beneath his shirt. It pulsed—hot, urgent. “The key knows. It feels… something. A resonance.”

Thomas stepped up to the door, examining the symbols. “It’s a barrier. Magically sealed. Only someone with the right permission can open it.”

“Or someone with the Soul Key,” Erik said, drawing the artifact out.

It flared brightly as he approached the door.

“Erik, wait—” Marcus began.

But Erik pressed the key against the door.

Light exploded. The symbols blazed, bright and intense. Then, with a deep crack, the door swung open.

Beyond it: darkness. Absolute darkness that seemed to swallow their flashlights.

And from that darkness: a voice.

“Welcome, bearer. We’ve been waiting for you.”

It was Katalin’s voice.

Erik’s heart hammered. But he stepped forward, through the door.

Marcus and Thomas followed.

The darkness swallowed them.

---

As their eyes adjusted, they saw where they were.

A vast chamber. Larger than anything Erik had expected. The ceiling was high, lost in shadow. The walls were covered in more symbols, more carvings, some faintly glowing with their own light.

And in the center: a circle. Drawn with something that was not chalk.

Blood, Erik realized with growing horror.

Inside the circle: three cribs. And within them—

“The babies,” Thomas whispered, horrified.

The Wagner, Müller, and Schneider babies. The three taken by the council.

But they looked different. Their skin was gray. When their eyes opened, they glowed red. They were no longer half-transformed.

They were fully transformed.

“No,” Erik gasped. “We saved them. We performed the rituals!”

“You saved the wrong babies,” Katalin said.

She stepped out of the shadows, elegantly dressed in a blood-red gown. Her eyes glowed.

“What?” Marcus raised his pistol.

“The babies I gave you were decoys. Other children, similar age, similar appearance. From orphanages. No one would miss them.” Katalin’s smile was cold. “You were so desperate to save them that you didn’t check. No DNA tests. No verification. Just hope.”

“You bitch,” Marcus hissed, aiming.

“Don’t shoot.” A new voice. Familiar. Painfully familiar.

Helena stepped out beside Katalin.

But it was not the Helena Erik knew.

She wore a black dress, similar to Katalin’s. Her hair fell loose in dark waves over her shoulders. And her eyes—

Her eyes glowed red.

“Helena?” Erik’s voice broke. “What did they do to you?”

“They did nothing to me.” Helena’s voice was calm, almost serene. “They showed me the truth. My true heritage. My true family.”

“No. That’s not true. They manipulated you—”

“They freed me.” Helena stepped closer, stopping at the edge of the blood circle. “For years I fought against my nature. Against what I am. But Mother helped me understand.”

“She’s not your mother!” Marcus shouted. “She’s a monster!”

“She’s both.” Helena smiled—and it was the smile of a predator. “And now, so am I.”

Erik felt his world collapse. “You’re not turned. I don’t see any bite marks.”

“Because I drank willingly.” Helena raised her hand, showing her wrist. There, barely visible, was a small scar. “From the Chalice of Eternity. The blood of the Elders, mixed with my own. No bite required.”

“That’s impossible,” Thomas stammered. “The transformation takes days. Weeks.”

“For normal humans, yes. But I’m not normal.” Helena’s eyes met Erik’s. “I’m Katalin’s daughter. Her blood was already in me. It only needed… activation.”

“Helena, please.” Erik stepped closer, ignoring the warning in Marcus’s eyes. “This isn’t you. Fight it. I know you’re still in there.”

“I am here. Clearer than ever.” Helena’s voice softened. “Erik, I’m not your enemy. I’m still me. Just… better. Stronger. Without the doubts. Without the fear.”

“Without humanity.”

“Humanity only made me weak.” Helena shook her head. “But now I understand. Mother was right. The transformation isn’t destruction. It’s evolution.”

“It’s damnation!” Thomas stepped forward, holding up his crucifix.

Helena didn’t flinch. The crucifix had no effect.

“Interesting,” she said softly. “I thought that would hurt. But I feel… nothing.”

“Because you’re too new,” Katalin explained, placing a hand on Helena’s shoulder—a maternal gesture. “The old symbols need time to take effect. In a few days you’ll feel them. But they won’t destroy you. Just… inconvenience you.”

“Then we still have time!” Erik turned to Helena. “Listen, we can reverse this. The ritual we used on the babies—we can use it on you. You’ve only been turned for hours. It’s not too late!”

“But I don’t want to reverse it.” Helena’s eyes hardened. “Don’t you understand? I chose this. Willingly. No manipulation. No coercion. I saw what Mother offered me, and I accepted it.”

“What she offers you is death!” Marcus’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Death and darkness!”

“She offers me eternal life. Power. And a family.” Helena looked at Katalin, then at Dimitri, who had stepped out of the shadows. “My real family. Not the lies I grew up with.”

“We were your family!” Erik felt tears in his eyes. “The Night Watch. Thomas, Marcus, Yuki. Me. We fought together, suffered together, won together.”

“And I’ll always be grateful to you.” Helena’s voice softened. “That’s why I’m offering you a chance. Join me. All of you. Drink from the chalice. Become like me. And together, we can change the world.”

“We’d rather die,” Thomas said flatly.

“That,” Katalin said, “can be arranged.”

She snapped her fingers.

They emerged from the shadows. Vampires. Dozens of them. Surrounding Erik, Marcus, and Thomas.

“But that would be a waste,” Katalin continued. “You’re capable. Strong. You could be valuable additions to the council.”

“Never,” Marcus spat.

“Pity.” Katalin sighed theatrically. “Then there’s only one option left. Take the key from them. Kill them if necessary.”

The vampires attacked.

Marcus fired. Silver bullets tore through two vampires, who howled and collapsed.

Thomas threw holy water. It sizzled on vampire flesh, burning it.

But there were too many.

Erik raised the Soul Key and called the light.

It came—but weaker than before. His body was too exhausted, his soul too drained.

The barrier he created held for only seconds.

Then it shattered.

The vampires swarmed them.

Erik was dragged to the ground. Hands—cold, inhumanly strong—tore at him, trying to seize the key.

“No!” Erik clutched it, fighting with everything he had.

Then—a gunshot.

A vampire looming over Erik collapsed to the side.

Erik looked up.

At the chamber entrance: the mothers. Anna, Mrs. Hartmann, Mrs. Özkan, Mrs. Wagner.

They had their weapons raised—the tasers, the UV lamps. And they were firing.

“Backup’s here!” Anna shouted. “Move! Get up!”

The distraction bought Erik time. He scrambled to his feet, the key clenched tight.

Marcus and Thomas fought free as well—bloodied, but alive.

“Fall back!” Marcus ordered. “To the door!”

They ran. The mothers covered them, firing UV lamps that made the vampires hiss and recoil.

Then someone stepped into their path.

Helena.

“You can’t leave,” she said. Not threatening. Almost sad. “Not with the key.”

“Then stop us,” Erik said, raising the key. “If you can.”

Helena hesitated. Just for a moment. But it was enough.

Erik rushed past her, through the door, back into the tunnel.

The others followed.

Behind them, Helena’s voice echoed: “Erik! Come back! Please!”

But he kept running.

They reached the stone staircase, stumbled upward, back into the abandoned bakery.

“To the cars!” Marcus gasped.

They ran through the streets, ignoring the startled looks of passersby.

They reached the cars, jumped inside.

Marcus drove—too fast, taking corners on two wheels.

Only when they reached headquarters, only when they were safe, did Erik allow himself to breathe.

“We failed,” Thomas whispered, blood running from a wound on his forehead. “Helena is lost.”

“No.” Erik clenched the key. “She’s not lost. Not yet. She hesitated. Did you see it? When I ran past her—she hesitated.”

“A moment of hesitation won’t save her,” Marcus said bitterly.

“But it shows she’s still there. The real Helena, deep inside.” Erik looked at each of them. “We don’t give up. We find a way to bring her back.”

“How?” Marcus’s voice was weary. “She’s turned. Willingly turned. There’s no ritual that can reverse that.”

“Then we invent one.” Erik stood, despite the pain. “Or we find another way. But we don’t give up.”

He left the car and went into headquarters.

Yuki was waiting, her face pale.

“I saw everything,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “On the cameras. Helena… she’s…”

“Still savable,” Erik interrupted. “And we will save her. No matter how.”

He went to his room and carefully placed the key on the bedside table.

Then he collapsed onto the bed.

And for the first time in weeks, he cried.

For Helena. For the lost babies. For everything that had gone wrong.

But also for what was yet to come.

Because the war was not over.

It had only just begun.

CHAPTER 14
Subway Battle

Erik woke to the sound of voices.

Loud voices. Arguing voices.

He glanced at the clock. 4:37 a.m. He had slept for two hours.

He got up and followed the voices to the conference room.

Marcus and Thomas were arguing. Yuki sat between them, trying to mediate.

“—completely insane!” Marcus slammed his fist on the table. “You can’t seriously suggest we just go back!”

“I’m suggesting that we don’t give up on Helena,” Thomas said calmly but firmly. “She didn’t give up on us when we were in danger. Why should we give up on her?”

“Because she’s one of them now!” Marcus’s face was red. “She’s a vampire, Thomas! She drinks blood, she serves Katalin, she’s—”

“She’s still Helena.” Thomas stood up. “I saw it in her eyes. Beneath the darkness, beneath the transformation—she’s still there.”

“That’s wishful thinking.”

“Is it?” Thomas turned to Erik, who had just entered. “Erik, you were closer to her than any of us. Tell him. Tell him she hesitated.”

Erik rubbed his face. “She hesitated, yes. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“See?” Marcus pointed at Erik. “Even he—”

“But,” Erik continued, “I think we have to try. Helena devoted her life to saving others. The least we can do is try to save her.”

“How?” Marcus’s frustration was palpable. “There’s no ritual for voluntary transformation! She drank from the chalice, she chose—this is completely different from the babies!”

“Then we find a way,” Yuki cut in. She looked exhausted, clearly having worked through the night. “I’ve been researching. Every source, every text on vampirism I could find.”

“And?” Erik asked.

“There are… precedents. Very rare ones, but they exist.” Yuki opened her laptop and showed an old manuscript. “In the 15th century, in Romania, there was a case. A vampire who was voluntarily transformed returned to humanity.”

“How?”

“Through something they called ‘the Confrontation.’ The vampire was forced to face their humanity—memories, emotions, connections—everything they had abandoned.” Yuki scrolled. “It was agonizing. Most didn’t survive it. But those who did…”

“…became human again,” Thomas finished. “I’ve heard of it. An Orthodox ritual. Very old. Very dangerous.”

“Can we perform it?” Erik asked.

“Theoretically, yes. But we’d need Helena’s cooperation. She’d have to participate willingly.” Thomas looked doubtful. “And after what we saw…”

“She won’t cooperate,” Marcus said flatly. “She’s made her choice.”

“Then we convince her,” Erik said. “We make her doubt. Katalin. The transformation. Everything.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Erik walked to the map of Munich. His eyes scanned the marked ley lines and sites of Council activity.

“Katalin is planning the Ritual of Eternal Night. At the summer solstice, seven months from now. But she’s already preparing.” He pointed to several locations. “She needs sacrifices. Power. Resources.”

“And?” Marcus asked.

“We disrupt her plans. Sabotage her preparations. Every time she tries to move, we’re there to stop her.” Erik turned back to them. “If we delay her enough, harass her enough—maybe Helena realizes she’s on the wrong side.”

“That’s a long game,” Yuki said skeptically.

“Do you have a better idea?”

Silence.

“Then it’s settled.” Erik returned to the table. “Yuki, what do we know about the Council’s next planned activities?”

Yuki typed rapidly. “I’ve intensified surveillance on the ley line points. In the last twenty-four hours there’s been increased activity at three locations: Frauenkirche, the English Garden, and…” She hesitated. “The Sendlinger Tor subway station.”

“Sendlinger Tor?” Marcus frowned. “That’s not on the ley line map.”

“No, but it lies directly above one. An old underground spring that used to be a sanctuary.” Yuki zoomed in. “And there are reports of strange incidents there. People disappearing. Bloodstains. The police investigate but find nothing.”

“Because the vampires clean up,” Thomas said. “Sendlinger Tor makes sense. Central, heavily used, but relatively empty at night.”

“What are they planning there?” Erik asked.

“No idea. But it must be important if they’re risking that much activity.” Yuki showed surveillance footage. “Look at this. Last night, 2:37 a.m.”

The video showed the subway station. Empty except for a security guard. Then, from the tunnel: figures. Vampires. Six, seven, more. They were carrying something—large crates, heavy.

“What’s in the crates?” Erik asked.

“I can’t tell. Too dark, too far from the cameras.” Yuki fast-forwarded. “They went deeper into the tunnel. Not to the platform—into a maintenance tunnel.”

“They’re building something,” Thomas realized. “Or storing something.”

“For the ritual,” Erik added. “These are preparations.”

Marcus leaned back, arms crossed. “So what—go in, take a look, destroy whatever they have?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s suicide. If they’re expecting us—”

“Then we’ll be careful.” Erik met each of their eyes. “Minimal team. Just the three of us. Yuki coordinates from here. The mothers stay here, safe.”

“The mothers won’t like that,” Yuki muttered.

“They risked their lives last night. That’s enough.” Erik’s voice hardened. “This is our job. No more civilians in danger.”

“Agreed,” Marcus said after a moment. “But we go in prepared. Maximum firepower, maximum caution.”

“When?” Thomas asked.

Erik checked the time. “The subway opens at 4:00 a.m. Traffic stays minimal until 6:00. We have a two-hour window.”

“That gives us nineteen hours to prepare,” Marcus calculated. “Good. We’ll need every minute.”

---

The day passed in feverish preparation.

Marcus inspected weapons, assembled improvised explosives—“emergency use only,” he insisted. Thomas prepared warding circles, blessed ammunition, prayed over artifacts.

Erik practiced again with the key—but more carefully this time. He summoned the light only briefly, then let it fade, trying to spare his soul.

“You need to rest,” Yuki said when she brought him lunch. “Your body needs recovery.”

“I can’t sleep.” Erik took the sandwich and ate mechanically. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Helena. Standing there, eyes glowing, looking at us like we were strangers.”

“She wasn’t herself.”

“But she was.” Erik set the sandwich aside, suddenly without appetite. “That’s what’s terrifying. Parts of her were still there. Her voice, her mannerisms. Just… twisted. Corrupted.”

“That’s why we have to bring her back.” Yuki sat beside him. “Erik, I spoke with Thomas. About the Confrontation ritual. He thinks it might work. But…”

“But?”

“It requires someone close to Helena. Someone she trusts—even now.” Yuki met his eyes. “Someone like you.”

“Me? I’ve known her barely two weeks.”

“In those two weeks you went through more with her than most people do in a lifetime. You fought together, bled together, suffered together.” Yuki smiled faintly. “She trusts you. I saw it in the way she looked at you.”

“She looked at me yesterday like she wanted to kill me.”

“She looked at you like she was afraid you’d judge her,” Yuki corrected gently. “That’s not the same.”

Erik was silent, thinking.

“If we truly want to bring her back,” Yuki continued, “then you’re the key. Not the artifact. You.”

“No pressure or anything,” Erik muttered.

“Sorry.” Yuki stood. “But it’s the truth. That’s why it’s so important you survive tonight. Munich needs you. The Night Watch needs you.”

“Helena needs me.”

“Exactly.” Yuki paused at the door. “Erik? Don’t get yourself killed. Not for Helena, not for anyone. Your life matters too.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” She left.

Erik stayed behind, staring at the Soul Key on the table.

The artifact glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

“What are you really?” he whispered. “Why did you choose me?”

The key didn’t answer. Of course not.

But Erik could have sworn he heard a whisper, deep in his mind.

Because you are willing to sacrifice. Like all those before you.

---

They set out at 3:30 a.m.

The city was still asleep, the streets empty. Only the occasional taxi and night worker passed by.

They parked two blocks from Sendlinger Tor and approached on foot, inconspicuous, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

The subway station was just opening as they arrived. A tired attendant unlocked the gates and nodded at them.

They bought tickets and descended to the platform.

The station was almost empty. A homeless man slept on a bench beneath newspapers. A group of drunk partygoers laughed too loudly.

“Maintenance tunnel is over there,” Marcus whispered, pointing to a door at the end of the platform. “Padlocked.”

“I’ve got bolt cutters,” Erik said, patting his pack.

“Of course you do.” Marcus grinned briefly. “Let’s wait for a train. Use the distraction.”

They waited. Five minutes. Ten.

Then the rumble of an approaching train.

“Now!” Marcus moved fast.

Erik followed, pulled out the bolt cutters. One snip—the lock fell away.

Thomas kept watch, distracting the attendant with a question about schedules.

They slipped through the door and closed it behind them.

Beyond it: darkness. A narrow tunnel lit only by emergency lights.

Marcus switched on his flashlight. “Careful. Tracks are still live.”

They walked along the edge, avoiding the rails. The tunnel stretched for a hundred meters, then branched.

“Left or right?” Erik whispered.

“Left. I smell something.” Thomas sniffed the air. “Blood. And something else. Incense, maybe.”

They took the left tunnel. It sloped downward, deeper beneath the city.

Fifty meters later: a chamber.

It was large, half natural, half excavated. The walls were damp, covered in moss. And in the center—

“My God,” Marcus whispered.

An altar. Larger than the one beneath St. Peter’s Church. Black stone, etched with carvings that seemed to pulse in the beam of their lights.

And around it: the crates. The crates from the surveillance footage.

Erik stepped closer and opened one.

Inside: bones. Human bones, cleanly bleached, engraved with runes.

“Offerings,” Thomas said softly. “For the ritual. The bones strengthen the connection to the darkness.”

“How many?” Marcus asked.

Erik counted. “Twelve. Each one full.”

“That’s hundreds of people,” Thomas whispered in horror. “Where did they get them?”

“Graveyards. Catacombs. Mass graves.” Marcus’s voice was hard. “Katalin has had centuries to collect.”

“We have to destroy this,” Erik said. He reached into his pack and pulled out one of Marcus’s improvised charges. “All of it.”

“Agreed.” Marcus began placing the other charges. “Thomas, can you bless them? Make sure we destroy the magic as well as the altar?”

“I’ll try.” Thomas moved from crate to crate, murmuring prayers, sprinkling holy water.

Erik placed the final charge on the altar itself. His hands trembled slightly. If this went wrong—if the blast was too large—they could collapse the entire tunnel.

“Done,” Marcus said. “Timer set for five minutes. Enough time to get out.”

“Then let’s—”

“How touching.”

They all turned.

At the entrance to the chamber stood Dimitri.

And behind him: Helena.

“You really thought we’d leave this place unguarded?” Dimitri smiled. “How naive.”

“Dimitri, let us go,” Erik said. His hand moved toward the Soul Key. “We don’t want a fight.”

“But I do.” Dimitri’s eyes flared. “You disrupted our plans. Sabotaged our preparations. That demands… consequences.”

“Helena.” Erik ignored Dimitri and focused on her. “You don’t have to do this. You can let us go.”

She looked at him. For a moment—just a heartbeat—Erik saw something in her eyes. Doubt? Regret?

Then it was gone.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said softly. “Now I have to stop you.”

“Then do it.” Erik drew the key. “If you can.”

Helena hesitated again. Just a second.

But Dimitri didn’t.

He attacked.

Too fast to see. Erik was slammed to the ground, the key torn from his hand.

Marcus fired, but Dimitri dodged, the bullets hitting only stone.

Thomas threw holy water, striking Dimitri’s shoulder. The vampire hissed and recoiled.

Erik crawled toward the key, reached—

Helena was faster.

She stood over him, the key in her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

More vampires emerged from the shadows. Five, six, more.

They were surrounded.

“The charges!” Marcus shouted. “Detonate them now!”

Thomas pressed the remote trigger.

Nothing happened.

“They’re not working!” Thomas pressed again. “Something’s blocking the signal!”

“Magical interference,” Dimitri said amused. “We learned from your last little stunt. Technology is so… unreliable in the presence of ancient magic.”

“Then we do it manually.” Marcus drew a knife and charged one of the charges.

A vampire attacked him. Marcus fought back, but he was outmatched.

Erik looked at Helena. She held the key, staring at it as if seeing it for the first time.

“Helena,” Erik said softly. “Please. Give me the key. Let us go.”

“I can’t.” Her voice trembled. “Mother… she would—”

“Fuck your mother!” Erik shouted. “You’re not her tool! You’re Helena Konstantin! Leader of the Night Watch! You’ve spent your life saving people!”

“I stopped saving.” Helena’s eyes filled with something—tears? Could vampires cry? “Now I take.”

“That’s a lie Katalin told you.” Erik stood, ignoring the vampires around him. “You’re better than this. I know you are.”

Helena shook her head. “You don’t know me.”

“I do.” Erik stepped closer, close enough to smell the blood on her. “You’re the woman who got on a train to Salzburg because she thought she couldn’t fight anymore. And I brought you back. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I believed in you. In your strength. In your goodness.” Erik met her gaze. “And I still do.”

A tear—an actual tear—ran down Helena’s cheek.

“Erik…” Her hand holding the key trembled.

“Enough!” Dimitri lunged for Erik.

But Helena moved faster.

She stepped between them, holding the key high.

“No,” she said. “Leave him alone.”

Dimitri froze. “What are you doing?”

“I… I don’t know.” Helena looked at the key in her hand. “But this doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right.”

“You’re confused. That’s normal for a new vampire. It will pass.” Dimitri’s voice softened, manipulative. “Come, sister. Give me the key. Let’s go home.”

“Home…” Helena’s voice was distant. “Where is home?”

“With Mother. With me. With family.”

“With Katalin, you mean.” Helena’s eyes cleared. “The woman who gave me away. Who only wanted me when I was useful.”

“She did what she thought was right—”

“She did what was convenient!” Helena’s voice grew stronger. “And now she’s manipulating me again. Using me. Like she uses everyone.”

She turned to Erik and pressed the key into his hand.

“Go,” she whispered. “Take the others. Run.”

“Not without you.”

“I still belong to them. I drank, I’m transformed. I can’t—”

“You can.” Erik took her hand. “Come with us. We’ll find a way.”

Helena looked at Dimitri, then back at Erik.

“I… I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

Helena smiled faintly. “You don’t know many people.”

“Enough to know when someone is special.”

Dimitri screamed in rage. “If you go with them, you’re a traitor! Mother will hunt you down, kill you!”

“Let her try.” Helena turned to him. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please someone else. Mother. The Night Watch. Society. But now…” She took a deep breath. “Now I do what I believe is right.”

She faced the other vampires. “Let them go. All of them.”

The vampires hesitated, looking to Dimitri.

“You obey me!” he hissed. “Not her!”

“Then we fight.” Helena’s eyes blazed, deep red. “And I promise you—I’m stronger than all of you combined.”

It wasn’t empty bravado. Erik felt the power radiating from her. Katalin’s blood had made her terrifyingly strong.

The vampires backed away.

“You’ll regret this,” Dimitri said coldly. “All of you.”

Then he vanished into the shadows.

The others followed.

Helena collapsed, suddenly weak.

“Helena!” Erik caught her.

“The charges,” she gasped. “You have to… detonate them manually…”

“Three minutes,” Marcus shouted, running over. “We have to get out. Now!”

They supported Helena and ran back through the tunnel.

Behind them, Thomas manually triggered the charges.

They reached the main tunnel. The platform. Stumbled up the stairs.

They reached the street just as the explosion hit.

A deep roar. The ground shook. Somewhere beneath the city, something collapsed.

They kept moving, away from the station, until they were safe.

Only then did they allow themselves to breathe.

Helena lay on the ground, gasping. Her skin smoked faintly—the morning sun was beginning to rise.

“We need to get her inside,” Thomas said. “The sunlight will kill her.”

They carried Helena to the car and drove back to headquarters.

In the pale morning light, Erik saw her face. Tormented. Torn. But also… relieved.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for not giving up.”

“Never,” Erik said simply.

They reached headquarters. Yuki was already waiting, pale with worry.

“Helena!” She ran to her, helped carry her inside.

“I’m… different now,” Helena warned. “I’m a vampire. I need—”

“We’ll handle it,” Yuki said firmly. “Together. Like a family.”

They took Helena to a darkened room and laid her on the bed.

“Rest,” Thomas said. “We’ll talk later.”

Helena nodded weakly and closed her eyes.

They left the room and closed the door softly.

In the conference room, everyone slumped at once.

“That was too close,” Marcus said after a long pause.

“But we got her back,” Yuki said, tears of relief streaming down her face. “Helena is back.”

“Not completely,” Thomas said quietly. “She’s still transformed. Still a vampire. The fight isn’t over.”

“But we have a chance,” Erik said. “More than we did twelve hours ago.”

He leaned back, feeling exhaustion in every muscle.

They had Helena back—but at what cost?

And what would Katalin do now?

The war had entered a new phase.

And Erik had the sinking feeling that the worst was still to come.

CHAPTER 15
The Night of Truth

Helena woke as the sun was setting.

Erik was sitting beside her bed, having stood watch. He saw her eyes open—still red, glowing in the twilight.

“How long?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“Fourteen hours. It’s 6:30 p.m.” Erik handed her a bottle of water. “How do you feel?”

Helena sat up and drank greedily. Then she paused, staring at the bottle. “I… I’m not thirsty. For water, I mean.”

“But for something else?”

She nodded slowly. “It’s like… a burning. Deep in my throat. It hurts, but not physically. It’s… hunger.”

“Yuki prepared something,” Erik said, standing up and taking a thermos from a small refrigerator in the corner. “Animal blood. From a slaughterhouse. Thomas blessed it to… to maximize the effect.”

Helena took the thermos and opened it hesitantly. The smell rose—metallic, but not unpleasant. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating.

“I should find this disgusting,” she whispered. “But I… God, it smells good.”

“Then drink,” Erik said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “It’s okay.”

Helena drank. Not greedily, not like a monster. But slowly, carefully, as if she wanted to get used to the taste.

After a few swallows, she stopped. “That… that helps. The burning is less.”

“Good.” Erik took the thermos back. “Thomas says you need to drink every six hours. At least at first. Later, when you… when you learn to control it, it can be longer.”

“When I learn.” Helena laughed bitterly. “As if I could ever control what I am now.”

“You’re still Helena.”

“Am I?” She stood and walked to the mirror on the wall. “Look at me. Red eyes. Pale skin. And if I concentrate…” Her canines lengthened slightly, becoming sharp. “Monster.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“I drank blood, Erik. Willingly. I took Katalin’s chalice and—” Her voice broke. “I remember everything. How it felt. The power, the clarity. It was… ecstatic.”

“That’s the transformation. It makes you believe it’s good.”

“But part of me still believes it.” Helena turned to him. Tears—yes, vampires could cry—ran down her cheeks. “Part of me wants to go back. To Katalin. To the power.”

“But you’re here. You chose to stay with us.”

“Did I?” Helena sank back onto the bed. “Or am I just too cowardly to fully change? Too afraid to admit that I want what she’s offering me?”

Erik sat beside her. “Helena, listen. Katalin manipulated you. She exploited your longing for family, your insecurity. But that doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t real. You’re torn. That’s understandable.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Erik took her hand. It was cold, but not inhumanly so. “You’ve spent your whole life doing the right thing. Now, for the first time, you’re feeling something else. That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you human.”

“But I’m not human anymore.”

“You’re more human than most people I know.” Erik’s grip tightened. “You saved me from a burning subway depot. You saved Lukas. You devoted your life to saving others. That doesn’t change because your biology has changed.”

Helena looked at him for a long time. “You’re too good for this world.”

“Or exactly right for it.” Erik smiled faintly. “Come on. The others are waiting. We need to talk.”

---

The entire team had gathered in the conference room.

Marcus stood at the map, marking something. Thomas sat at the table, surrounded by ancient books. Yuki was typing on her laptop.

And in the corner, unexpectedly: the three mothers. Anna Berger, Mrs. Hartmann, Mrs. Özkan. And Mrs. Wagner.

“What are they doing here?” Helena asked, surprised.

“They wanted to be here,” Marcus said. “They have a right to know what’s happening.”

“But—”

“Dr. Konstantin.” Anna stood up. “We know what happened to you. Yuki explained it to us. And we… we’re still grateful. You saved our children. That you’re now… different doesn’t change that.”

“I’m a vampire,” Helena said flatly. “The same monster that bit your children.”

“No.” Mrs. Hartmann stepped forward. “You are the woman who saved my granddaughter. Monsters don’t save lives. Monsters take them.”

Helena was silent, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Let’s sit down,” Thomas said gently. “We have a lot to discuss.”

They sat. Helena between Erik and Yuki, as if she needed their closeness for support.

“Status,” Marcus said. “The explosion in the subway tunnel delayed Katalin’s preparations. But it didn’t stop them. Yuki?”

“I’ve been monitoring activity. The altar is destroyed, the bones annihilated. But…” Yuki hesitated. “There have already been movements. Vampires collecting new materials. They’re rebuilding elsewhere.”

“Where?” Erik asked.

“Unclear. They’re more careful now. No more open transports. They’re using the catacombs, moving underground.” Yuki pointed to various maps. “But I’ve found a pattern. All movements converge on the Old Town. Specifically around…” She zoomed in. “The Frauenkirche.”

“The center of the ley lines,” Thomas said. “The most powerful point in Munich.”

“Exactly. If Katalin performs the ritual, it’ll be there.” Yuki looked at Helena. “You were with her. You heard her plans. What can you tell us?”

Helena closed her eyes, as if forcing herself to remember. “The summer solstice. June 21st. Midnight. That’s when the ley lines are strongest. She needs…” She took a deep breath. “She needs seven sacrifices. Seven innocent souls, sacrificed at the seven points around the Frauenkirche.”

“The three babies,” Erik said. “The ones we couldn’t save.”

“Yes. But not just them. She needs four more.” Helena opened her eyes. “And she’s already selected the candidates.”

“Who?” Marcus’s voice was tense.

Helena looked at each of them. “You.”

Silence filled the room.

“Us?” Yuki repeated incredulously. “The Night Watch?”

“Not all of you. Only those who offered the greatest resistance.” Helena’s gaze moved. “Thomas, because he’s a priest. Consecrated blood strengthens the ritual. Marcus, because he’s a warrior. Warrior blood brings strength. Yuki, because she’s a scholar. Knowledge feeds the darkness.”

“And me?” Erik asked, though he already suspected the answer.

“You, because you carry the Soul Key. Your blood, mixed with the power of the Key…” Helena’s voice grew quieter. “That would make the ritual unstoppable.”

“That’s… wonderful,” Marcus said dryly. “So we’re all targets.”

“And the babies?” Anna asked, panicked. “What will happen to them?”

“They’ll be sacrificed. At the same time. At different points.” Helena looked away, unable to endure Anna’s gaze. “It’ll be quick. Painless, Katalin assured me. But—”

“But they’ll be dead,” Mrs. Wagner finished.

“Yes.”

The mothers clutched one another, tears in their eyes.

“Then we have to find them,” Erik said firmly. “The babies. Before the summer solstice. We save them.”

“How?” Marcus asked. “Munich is huge. The catacombs are a labyrinth. Katalin could have hidden them anywhere.”

“But Helena knows where they are,” Erik said, turning to her. “Right?”

Helena hesitated. “I… I know where they were. Before I escaped. But Katalin will have moved them. She’s not stupid.”

“But it’s a start.” Erik stood up. “Tell us where they were. We’ll begin there.”

“Erik, it’s dangerous. Katalin will have set traps. She expects us.” Helena’s eyes were tortured. “If you go, you might not come back.”

“Then we all go together,” Thomas said. “United. As a team.”

“I can’t come with you,” Helena said softly. “Not into the catacombs. Not to Katalin.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can still feel her. The connection. When she gave me her blood, she created a bond between us. I hear her thoughts, feel her emotions.” Helena’s hands trembled. “If I get too close, she could control me. Force me to fight you.”

“Then you stay here,” Yuki said quickly. “Safe. You coordinate from HQ.”

“But—”

“No ‘but.’” Marcus’s voice was firm. “You’ve only just decided to stand with us. We’re not putting you in danger again immediately.”

Helena looked like she wanted to protest, then nodded. “All right. But be careful. Katalin is… she’s not like other vampires. She’s ancient, more powerful than anything you can imagine.”

“We know,” Erik said. “That’s why we’re going prepared.”

“When?” Anna asked.

“Tonight.” Marcus went to the equipment. “No time to waste. The longer we wait, the stronger Katalin becomes.”

“Then we prepare,” Thomas said, standing. “Weapons, blessings, warding circles. Everything.”

“And us?” Mrs. Hartmann gestured to the other mothers. “What can we do?”

“Pray,” Thomas said simply. “Pray that we come back. With the children.”

---

The next few hours passed in feverish preparation.

Erik trained again with the Key. But this time it was different. The Key felt… heavier. As if the weight of all the souls it had carried was pressing down on him.

“You feel them, don’t you?” Helena had come to the training room. “The previous bearers.”

“Sometimes. Like whispers. Or memories that aren’t mine.” Erik let the Key’s light flare. “Thomas says the more I use it, the stronger the connection becomes.”

“And the more of yourself you give to the Key.”

“Yes.” Erik let the light fade. “But what’s the alternative? Not fight? Let Katalin win?”

“No. You fight. That’s who you are.” Helena stepped closer. “But Erik, promise me something.”

“What?”

“If it gets too much. If you feel the Key taking over—let go. Throw it away, destroy it, whatever. But don’t lose yourself.”

“I can’t—”

“Promise me.” Helena grabbed his shoulders. “I’ve already lost so many people. I can’t lose you too.”

Erik looked into her eyes—red, inhuman, but still Helena’s eyes. Full of worry, full of fear.

“I promise,” he said at last. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” Helena let go and stepped back. “And Erik? Thank you. For everything. For believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.”

“That’s what friends do.”

“Friends.” Helena smiled faintly. “I didn’t have many of those. In my life.”

“Now you do.” Erik smiled back. “A whole family of them.”

---

At 10:00 p.m. they gathered again.

The mission team: Erik, Marcus, and Thomas. Yuki and Helena would coordinate from HQ. The mothers would remain in safety, ready to provide medical support if needed.

“The place where the babies were,” Helena said, pointing to a map. “Under the Ludwigskirche. There’s a hidden entrance through the crypt. I can show you the way.”

“Only on the map,” Marcus said. “You’re not coming.”

“I know.” Helena drew the route. “Here. Through the side chapel, a loose floor slab. Underneath is a staircase.”

“And security?” Thomas asked.

“Vampires. At least a dozen when I was there. Possibly more now.” Helena looked up. “And possibly Dimitri.”

“Your brother,” Erik said. “Will he… will he talk to us?”

“Dimitri talks a lot. Whether he tells the truth is another matter.” Helena’s face darkened. “He’s loyal to Katalin. Unconditionally. If he has to choose between me and her…”

“He’ll choose her,” Marcus finished. “Understood.”

They geared up. Weapons, ammunition, holy water, UV lamps. And the Soul Key, which Erik wore around his neck.

“Radio channel two,” Yuki said, handing out devices. “I’m monitoring city surveillance. If I see movement, I’ll warn you.”

“And if we don’t come back?” Marcus asked.

“Then…” Yuki hesitated. “Then we get the mothers and their children to safety. Leave Munich. And hope Katalin’s ritual fails.”

“It won’t fail,” Helena said quietly. “Not without intervention. The ritual is too old, too powerful. If she performs it, Munich will fall.”

“Then we make sure she doesn’t perform it,” Erik said. “Ready? Then let’s go.”

They left HQ. The night was cold, the sky overcast. No moon, no stars. Only darkness.

The Ludwigskirche lay in Lehel, not far from the Isar. A neo-baroque church, imposing, with two towers rising into the sky.

They parked two blocks away and went on foot.

The church was closed, dark. But Marcus had a spare key—“Helena gave it to me, years ago,” he explained.

They entered. The interior was silent, holy. Moonlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting colored shadows across the pews.

“Side chapel,” Marcus whispered, gesturing left.

They went there. A small chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary. And there, just as Helena had said: a floor slab, slightly looser than the others.

Marcus and Thomas lifted it. Beneath: a staircase descending into darkness.

“No turning back now,” Marcus muttered.

They went down.

The crypt was larger than Erik had expected. Stone walls covered in ancient engravings. Sarcophagi lined the sides, some open, some sealed.

And at the end: a door. Modern, steel, with an electronic lock.

“That’s new,” Thomas said. “Helena didn’t mention a modern door.”

“Katalin upgraded.” Marcus examined the lock. “Damn. Military-grade. I can’t crack it.”

“Let me,” Erik said, stepping forward and taking out the Soul Key.

“That’s an electronic lock,” Marcus said skeptically. “Not a magical one.”

“The Key opens doors,” Erik said simply. “All doors.”

He pressed the Key against the lock.

Light exploded. The lock hissed, smoked, then clicked.

The door swung open.

Beyond it: more darkness. And a smell—old, musty, with a hint of blood.

“They’re in there,” Thomas whispered. “I can feel it.”

They stepped through the door.

A long corridor stretched before them. On the walls: torches burning with an unnatural green light.

At the end of the corridor: a chamber. And inside—

Erik’s heart sank.

The chamber was empty.

No vampires. No babies. Only empty cribs, abandoned.

“They’re gone,” Marcus said. “Helena was right. Katalin moved them.”

“But where?” Erik went to the cribs, searching for clues.

“Everywhere.” A voice, from the shadows.

Dimitri stepped forward. Alone.

“Where are the others?” Marcus asked, raising his weapon.

“Gone. Just like the babies. Katalin knew you’d come. My sister is so… predictable.” Dimitri smiled. “But I stayed. To deliver a message.”

“What kind of message?” Erik asked.

“An offer. A final one.” Dimitri stepped into the light. “Katalin is willing to negotiate. She doesn’t want war. She doesn’t want unnecessary death. So she offers a deal.”

“We don’t listen to offers from monsters,” Thomas said.

“Not even if it saves the babies?” Dimitri’s smile widened. “She offers this: the three babies in exchange for the Soul Key. A simple trade. No one has to die.”

“Except Munich,” Erik said. “If she has the Key, she’ll perform the ritual. Thousands will die.”

“Perhaps. But not today. Not tomorrow. You’ll have time to prepare, to plan.” Dimitri shrugged. “Or you refuse. And the three babies die in seven months. Painfully. As sacrifices.”

“That’s not a real choice,” Marcus said.

“It’s the only choice you have.” Dimitri’s eyes lit up. “So, bearer. What will it be? Three lives for an artifact?”

Erik felt the weight of the Key around his neck.

Three innocent babies.

Against the safety of Munich.

An impossible choice.

Again.

“Give me time,” Erik said at last. “To think.”

“You have until midnight.” Dimitri turned to leave. “After that, the offer is off the table. And the babies…” He looked back over his shoulder. “Well, let’s just say Katalin will find other uses for them.”

He vanished into the shadows.

Erik, Marcus, and Thomas stood there, in the empty chamber.

“What do we do?” Marcus asked.

Erik looked at the Key.

Then at his friends.

And he made a decision.

CHAPTER 16
The Ritual

“We are not giving her the Key.”

Marcus stared at Erik. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“No.” Erik’s voice was firm. “We can’t. If Katalin gets the Key, everything is lost. Munich, the Night Watch—everything.”

“But the babies—”

“We’ll save them another way.” Erik turned toward the exit. “We have until midnight. That’s…” He checked his watch. “Four hours. Enough time for a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” Thomas followed him down the corridor. “We don’t know where the babies are. We have no clues, no leads.”

“Then we create some.” Erik reached the stairs and started up. “Yuki is a genius hacker. Helena knows how Katalin thinks. Together we can—”

“Erik.” Marcus grabbed his arm and held him back. “Stop. Think. We’re talking about three babies. Three innocent lives.”

“I know.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice them? For a piece of metal?”

“For the thousands who will die if Katalin performs the ritual.” Erik turned to face him. “Marcus, I understand how that sounds. I understand that it seems inhuman. But we have no other choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not always.” Erik’s voice softened. “Sometimes there are only bad options. And we have to choose the least bad one.”

Marcus let go and rubbed his face. “This is fucked up.”

“Yes. It is.” Erik continued on. “But this is our reality now.”

They reached the church and exited through the main door. The night had grown even darker; the clouds had thickened.

“It’s going to rain,” Thomas murmured. “A storm is coming.”

“Fitting,” Marcus said bitterly.

They drove back to headquarters. The ride passed in tense silence.

When they arrived, Helena was already waiting in the conference room. Her eyes found Erik immediately.

“You didn’t find them,” she said. Not a question—a statement.

“No. But Dimitri was there.” Erik sat down heavily. “With an offer.”

He told her everything: the empty hideout, Dimitri’s bargain, the midnight deadline.

Helena listened, her face growing paler by the second. “You refused.”

“I asked for time. To think.”

“But you’re going to refuse.”

“Yes.” Erik met her gaze. “I can’t give Katalin the Key. You know that.”

“I know.” Helena’s voice was barely audible. “But the babies…”

“We’ll save them. Another way.” Erik turned to Yuki. “Can you hack Katalin’s network? Her communications? Anything that tells us where she hid the babies?”

Yuki shook her head. “I’ve tried. For hours. But Katalin doesn’t use modern technology. Everything runs through couriers, face-to-face meetings. She’s too careful.”

“Then we use Helena.” Erik turned to her. “You said you feel a connection to Katalin. Through the blood. Can you use that? Track her?”

“That’s… complicated.” Helena stood and went to the window. “The connection works both ways. If I try to sense her, she senses me too. She could manipulate me. Control me.”

“What if we expect that?” Thomas stepped closer. “Prepare for it? I can draw warding circles, provide protection. You try to see through the connection where she is. And if she tries to control you, we break the link.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Everything we do is dangerous.” Thomas’s voice was gentle. “But we’re here. We’ll protect you.”

Helena was silent for a long time. Then she nodded. “All right. But if something goes wrong—if I start acting strange—stop me. By force, if necessary.”

“We won’t have to,” Erik said, though he wasn’t sure he believed it.

---

They prepared a room.

Thomas drew intricate warding circles on the floor—silver, gold, and white, concentric rings with symbols between them. In the center: a chair for Helena.

“This should protect you,” Thomas explained. “The circles block external influence. If Katalin tries to control you, the symbols will resist.”

“Should,” Helena repeated skeptically.

“Will,” Thomas corrected firmly. “I’ve done this before. Exorcisms, summonings. I know what I’m doing.”

Helena sat down in the center of the circle. Erik, Marcus, Yuki, and Thomas took positions outside it, at the four corners.

“Ready?” Thomas asked.

“No. But let’s start anyway.” Helena closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then her body began to tremble. Slightly at first, then more violently.

“Helena?” Erik’s voice was tight.

“I… I can feel her.” Helena’s voice sounded different. Distant. “She’s… everywhere. Her presence fills the city.”

“Can you be more specific? Where is she right now?”

“Underground. Deep. Where no light reaches.” Helena tilted her head, as if listening. “I hear… water. Running water. A river?”

“The Isar,” Yuki said. “There are old channels under the Old Town that lead to the Isar.”

“And voices. Many voices. The council is assembled.” Helena jerked. “They’re… they’re talking about the ritual. The preparations. Three more weeks, they say. Not seven months.”

“What?” Marcus stepped closer. “They’re speeding it up?”

“The attack on the subway altar made them nervous. They think we’ll keep sabotaging them.” Helena’s voice grew urgent. “They want to perform the ritual earlier. At the December full moon. That is—”

“In three weeks,” Yuki said in horror. “December 21st. Winter solstice.”

“But you said it had to be the summer solstice!” Erik felt panic rising. “The ley lines—”

“Are also strong at the winter solstice. Not as strong, but sufficient.” Thomas’s face had gone pale. “If they have enough sacrifices, enough power…”

“Then it still works.” Helena suddenly opened her eyes.

But they were no longer red.

They were black. Completely black—no white, no pupil.

“Helena?” Erik stepped back.

When she spoke, it was not her voice.

It was Katalin’s.

“Hello, hunters. How lovely that my daughter leads you straight to me.”

“Out!” Thomas shouted. “Helena, come back!”

But Helena stood up, ignoring the warding circles as if they weren’t there.

“Impressive work, priest. But my bond with Helena is stronger than your symbols.” Katalin—through Helena—smiled. “She is my flesh, my blood. No ward can break that.”

“Fight her, Helena!” Erik stepped forward. “I know you’re still in there!”

“She is here. Trapped. Helpless.” Katalin’s laughter came from Helena’s mouth. “But don’t worry. I will make good use of her body.”

Helena’s hand shot forward, grabbing for Erik’s throat.

But Erik was faster. He dodged, rolled aside.

Marcus drew his weapon, then hesitated. “I can’t shoot Helena!”

“You don’t have to.” Thomas had produced a bottle of holy water and hurled its contents at her.

She hissed and recoiled. Smoke rose from her skin where the water struck.

“That… hurts,” she said. And this time it was Helena’s voice. Weak, but there. “More… more holy water…”

Thomas threw more. Helena screamed and collapsed to the floor.

The blackness in her eyes began to fade.

“No!” Katalin’s voice fought back. “She belongs to me!”

“She belongs to no one!” Erik knelt beside Helena, gripping her hand. “Helena, come back! Fight!”

Helena trembled, her body torn between two wills.

Then, with monumental effort, she screamed.

The blackness vanished. Her eyes turned red again—her vampire red, not Katalin’s black.

She gasped, coughed, curled in on herself.

“She… she’s gone. I threw her out.” Helena looked up, tears streaming. “But Erik, I saw something. Before she let me go. A place.”

“Where?”

“The old sewer facility. Under the Gasteig. They rebuilt it. Into a… a temple.” Helena grabbed Erik’s arm. “The babies are there. I saw them. In glass cages, surrounded by runes.”

“Gasteig,” Yuki repeated, already typing. “That’s a cultural center. On the edge of the Old Town. And yes—there are old structures underneath, from the nineteenth century.”

“How many vampires are guarding them?” Marcus asked.

“I… I couldn’t see everything. Maybe a dozen? More?” Helena shook her head. “But Katalin knows we’re coming now. She’ll be ready.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Erik stood up. “We have the location. We have a window. We go. Now.”

“Erik, that’s insane.” Marcus grabbed his arm. “If it’s a trap—”

“Then it’s a trap. But we have no other choice.” Erik looked at each of them. “Three weeks. That’s all we have. If we don’t save the babies, if we don’t stop Katalin’s ritual—Munich falls.”

“He’s right,” Thomas said. “We have to act.”

“Then we act.” Marcus headed for the armory. “But this time we go in with everything. Maximum firepower. Maximum preparation.”

“And I’m coming with you,” Helena said firmly.

“No—” Erik began.

“Yes.” Helena stood, swayed slightly, then steadied herself. “Katalin tried to control me. She failed. That means I’m stronger than she thought. Stronger than I thought.” She met Erik’s eyes. “I’m a vampire. I have abilities you don’t. Use them.”

“But if she takes control of you again—”

“Then kill me.” Helena’s voice was ice-cold. “Don’t hesitate. Just do it.”

Erik wanted to protest, but the look on her face silenced him.

“All right,” he said at last. “You’re coming. But you follow our orders.”

“Of course.” Helena smiled faintly. “I may be a monster, but I’m still part of the team.”

---

They set out at 11:30 p.m.

Thirty minutes before Dimitri’s deadline.

Two cars. The first: Erik, Helena, and Thomas. The second: Marcus and Yuki—“someone has to handle the tech side,” Yuki had insisted.

The mothers stayed behind, with strict instructions to seal the base if they heard nothing by 2:00 a.m.

“In case we don’t come back,” Marcus had said grimly.

The Gasteig was a massive complex of concrete and glass, housing concert halls, a library, event spaces. At this hour it was closed, dark.

They parked in a side alley and stepped out into the now-falling rain.

“Entrance?” Marcus asked.

“Service entrance, back side,” Yuki replied, studying blueprints on her tablet. “From there we can access the old tunnels.”

They circled the building. The service entrance was secured with a padlock.

Marcus cut it with bolt cutters. They went inside.

Beyond it lay a storage room, crammed with chairs, instrument cases, stage equipment. And at the back wall: a door labeled MAINTENANCE – NO ENTRY.

“That’s it,” Yuki said.

Thomas opened the door. Beyond it: a staircase descending downward. And a smell—old, damp, with that unmistakable metallic tang.

Blood.

“They’re definitely down there,” Helena murmured. Her nose twitched. “I can smell them. Vampires. Many.”

“How many?” Erik asked.

“Too many.” Helena’s eyes glowed in the darkness. “But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

“No.” Erik drew out the Soul Key. “We don’t.”

They went down.

The stairs were steep, wet, slippery. After thirty steps they reached the bottom.

A tunnel stretched out before them. Wider than the subway tunnels, with a vaulted ceiling. Along the walls: old pipes, rusted, dripping.

And at the far end, perhaps a hundred meters away: light. Green, flickering light.

“There,” Erik whispered.

They moved carefully, weapons drawn, senses sharpened.

The light grew brighter. They reached an opening and peered through.

What they saw stole their breath.

A vast chamber. A former sewer facility, now rebuilt. The walls were covered in symbols, glowing with their own light. In the center: an altar, larger than any they had seen before.

And around it: vampires. Dozens of them. Fifty, perhaps more.

All in black robes, all with glowing eyes, all chanting in a language Erik didn’t understand.

And before the altar, in three glass cages, exactly as Helena had said:

The babies.

They slept peacefully, unaware of the horror surrounding them.

“My God,” Thomas whispered. “This isn’t just a hideout. This is the ritual site.”

“They’re preparing. Now.” Helena’s voice was tight. “We have to—”

“Welcome.”

A voice, amplified, echoed through the chamber.

Katalin.

She stood atop the altar, arms spread wide. Beside her: Dimitri and Valentina.

“I knew you would come. My daughter led you to me so beautifully.” Katalin smiled. “Thank you, Helena. You were very helpful.”

“You used me,” Helena whispered, horrified.

“Of course I did. Why do you think I let you escape so easily?” Katalin’s laughter echoed. “I needed a way to bring you all here. And you cooperated perfectly.”

Erik felt his heart sink. “It was a trap. From the beginning.”

“Not quite from the beginning. But since Helena returned to us—yes.” Katalin gestured to the vampires around her. “She wanted to go back to you. So I let her. Knowing she would lead you straight to me.”

“The babies,” Marcus said. “Are they real? Or is that part of the deception too?”

“Oh, they are very real. And very important to the ritual.” Katalin stepped to one of the cages, running her fingers over the glass. “But three babies aren’t enough. I need seven sacrifices.”

She looked directly at Erik.

“Three babies. And four hunters.” Katalin’s smile widened. “Perfect.”

The vampires moved, encircling them, cutting off retreat.

They were trapped.

“Run!” Marcus shouted. “Everyone, run!”

But it was too late.

The vampires attacked.

And the battle began.

CHAPTER 17
Konstantin’s Death

The attack came from all sides.
Vampires lunged at them, too fast for the human eye. Erik raised the Soul Key and called the Light.

It exploded from him, a wave of golden fire that hurled the nearest vampires backward.

But there were too many.

Marcus fired, his pistol booming in the enclosed space. Silver bullets struck, vampires howled. But for every one that fell, two more took its place.

Thomas swung his blessed staff, murmuring prayers. Holy water sprayed, vampires hissed and recoiled. But they learned quickly, circling him, waiting for an opening.

And Helena fought like a fury.

She moved with vampiric speed, her powers fully unleashed. She tore out throats, snapped necks, fought with a savagery that frightened Erik.

But even she was slowly being overwhelmed.

“To the babies!” Erik shouted. “We have to get to the babies!”

They fought their way forward, meter by meter. Erik led the way, the Soul Key a burning sword of light cutting through the darkness.

They reached the glass cages.

“How do we open them?” Marcus gasped as he knocked a vampire down with the butt of his gun.

“The key!” Erik pressed it against the glass.

The light pulsed. The glass began to crack, to splinter.

Then it exploded.

Erik reached in and pulled out the first baby. The Wagner baby, he realized. The one they hadn’t saved before.

It was still asleep, despite the chaos around it.

“Give it to me!” Yuki fought her way to him, blood streaming from a wound on her forehead. She took the baby and held it protectively.

Erik turned to the next cage. But before he could reach it, someone stepped into his path.

Dimitri.

“Not so fast, Bearer.” Dimitri’s eyes glowed. “These babies belong to the Council.”

“They’re not objects!” Erik raised the key. “Get out of my way!”

“Make me.” Dimitri smiled—and attacked.

He was fast. Faster than Valentina, faster than the other vampires. Erik barely saw him before Dimitri’s fist slammed into his stomach.

Erik was hurled backward, crashing into the wall. Pain exploded through his body.

“Erik!” Helena rushed toward him, but two vampires held her back.

Dimitri approached slowly, savoring the moment. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But bravery isn’t enough against us.”

“Maybe not bravery alone.” Erik staggered to his feet, gripping the key. “But bravery plus this—”

He called the Light. Not as a wave this time, but focused, concentrated—a beam of pure energy aimed straight at Dimitri.

Dimitri had no time to dodge.

The beam struck his chest, drilling straight through him.

Dimitri screamed, fell to the ground, smoking, burning.

But he rose again. Slower, wounded—but alive.

“Impressive,” he rasped. Blood—black, thick blood—poured from the wound. “But not enough.”

He attacked again.

This time, Helena was faster.

She threw herself between them, intercepting Dimitri’s blow.

“Sister,” Dimitri hissed. “Are you truly standing against me?”

“Yes.” Helena’s voice was ice-cold. “You made your choice. I made mine.”

They fought. Brother against sister. Equal in speed, equal in strength—a whirlwind of strikes and counterstrikes.

Erik used the distraction. He rushed to the other cages, shattering them with the key.

Thomas took the second baby. Marcus the third.

“We’ve got them!” Erik shouted. “Now get out of here!”

“The exit is blocked!” Yuki pointed back. Vampires filled the tunnel they had come through.

“Then we find another!” Marcus scanned the chamber. “There! A second tunnel!”

He was right. On the far side of the chamber, half-hidden, another opening.

“Move!” Erik gathered the team. “Helena! Come on!”

But Helena didn’t hear him. She was completely focused on Dimitri, their fight growing more brutal, more desperate.

“Helena!” Erik shouted again.

Dimitri took advantage of her distraction. He struck her hard, hurling her against the altar.

She fell, stunned.

Dimitri stood over her, his hand closing around her throat. “I’m sorry, sister. But you chose the wrong side.”

“No!” Erik ran back, the key in his hand.

But he was too slow.

A voice echoed through the chamber. “Enough.”

Katalin.

She now stood on the floor, approaching. All fighting stopped. The vampires stepped back, reverence in their movements.

“Dimitri, let her go.” Katalin’s voice was gentle—but absolute.

“But Mother, she betrayed us—”

“She is my daughter. And I will decide what happens to her.” Katalin helped Helena to her feet. “My poor child. So confused. So torn.”

“I’m not confused.” Helena spat blood. “I know exactly where I stand.”

“Do you?” Katalin brushed hair from Helena’s face, a grotesque maternal gesture. “You fight your own family. Your own blood. For what? For humans who will fear you the moment they learn what you are?”

“For what is right.”

“Right and wrong are constructs.” Katalin’s eyes glowed brighter. “There is only power. And survival.”

“Then you taught me nothing.” Helena shoved her away. “Because I believe in more than survival.”

Katalin sighed. “A shame. I had hoped you would understand. But perhaps you simply need more… persuasion.”

She snapped her fingers.

The vampires seized the team. Erik, Marcus, Thomas, Yuki—all were overwhelmed, thrown to the ground.

The babies were torn from their arms and placed back into the shattered cages.

“No!” Erik struggled, but there were too many of them. Hands—cold, inhumanly strong—held him down.

“You had your chance,” Katalin said. “I offered you a bargain. You refused. So now I take what I want.”

She stepped toward Erik and tore the Soul Key from his neck.

Erik screamed, feeling physical pain as the artifact was removed—like part of his soul being ripped away.

Katalin held the key up, examining it in the green light. “So many have borne this. So many have failed.” She looked at Erik. “You lasted longer than most. But not long enough.”

“Give it back,” Erik snarled through clenched teeth.

“Why would I? It’s mine now.” Katalin turned to the altar. “And with it, I will complete the ritual. Not in three weeks. Not at the winter solstice.”

She placed the key on the altar.

“Tonight.”

Horror flooded Erik. “You can’t. The ley lines aren’t strong enough—”

“Normally not. But with the Soul Key?” Katalin smiled. “It amplifies everything. Makes the impossible possible.”

She began to chant—ancient words, in a language that did not sound human.

The other vampires joined in, their voices merging into an eerie chorus.

The symbols on the walls began to glow—brighter, more intense.

The ground began to tremble.

“No,” Thomas whispered. “She’s really doing it. She’s calling the Darkness.”

“We have to stop her!” Marcus struggled against his restraints.

But the vampires held fast.

Katalin’s chanting grew louder, more urgent.

The Soul Key on the altar began to glow—not gold as when Erik wielded it, but red. Blood-red.

And something began to pour from it.

Darkness.

Pure, manifested darkness, rising like smoke, spreading.

“The ritual,” Yuki gasped. “It’s working.”

The darkness reached the ceiling, began to gather, to condense.

Then it exploded.

Upward—through stone and concrete, through the building above, into the sky.

Erik couldn’t see it, but he knew: above Munich, a wound opened in the sky. The night grew darker—unnaturally dark.

The eternal night had begun.

“No!” Helena tore herself free from the vampires restraining her, hurling them aside with superhuman strength.

She charged the altar and grabbed the Soul Key.

“Helena, no!” Katalin cried.

But Helena held it. The key burned in her hand, but she didn’t let go.

“I… I can feel it,” she gasped. “The souls. All those who carried it. They’re… calling to me.”

“Drop it!” Katalin moved closer. “You’re not strong enough!”

“Maybe not.” Helena looked at Erik. Tears—of pain, of resolve—streamed down her face. “But I have to try.”

She raised the key and called the Light.

It came—weaker than when Erik summoned it, flickering, unstable. But it came.

The red light of the ritual collided with the golden light of the key.

The chamber began to shake.

“What are you doing?” For the first time, fear crept into Katalin’s voice. “You’ll kill us all!”

“Better that than letting you win.” Helena’s eyes—normally red—turned gold, reflecting the key’s light.

The collision intensified. Cracks spread across the walls, stones raining from the ceiling.

“Everyone out!” Marcus shouted. “The chamber is collapsing!”

The vampires fled in panic, their order shattered.

Dimitri grabbed Katalin. “Mother, come! We have to go!”

“But the ritual—”

“Is lost! Come!”

He dragged her into the second tunnel, away from the collapsing chamber.

Valentina and the others followed.

Only Helena remained, holding the key, calling the Light.

The vampire restraining Erik suddenly let go—too busy fleeing to care about prisoners.

Erik ran to Helena. “Let go! We have to get out!”

“Not… until I finish this.” Her voice was strained, every word an effort. “The ritual… I can reverse it. Push the darkness back. But—”

“But what?”

“It will kill me.” Helena met his eyes, a sad smile on her lips. “The key… takes everything. To banish the darkness, I have to give myself.”

“No!” Erik grabbed her hand, trying to pull the key away.

But Helena held tight. “It’s my choice, Erik. My redemption.”

“You don’t need redemption! You did nothing wrong!”

“I drank from Katalin’s chalice. I became a monster.” Tears fell faster. “But now… now I can do something good. One last time.”

“Please.” Erik’s own tears fell. “Please don’t do this.”

“Look after them. The Night Watch. The city.” Her grip tightened. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Helena turned toward the altar, toward the exploding light. “Then… farewell, Erik Schönwaldt. It was an honor to fight by your side.”

She screamed—a piercing, unearthly scream—and the light from the key exploded.

A wave of golden energy filled the chamber, shattering the walls, tearing everything apart.

Erik was thrown backward, flying through the air, slamming into something hard.

Then everything went black.

---

When he woke, there was silence.

Erik lay beneath rubble, pain flaring through his entire body. Slowly, agonizingly, he freed himself.

The chamber was destroyed. Completely. Nothing remained but ruins.

“Helena?” His voice was hoarse, weak. “Helena!”

No answer.

He dug desperately, throwing stones aside, searching.

And he found her.

Helena lay beneath a massive slab of concrete, half-buried. The Soul Key was still in her hand.

Erik pulled the slab away and knelt beside her.

“Helena? Helena, stay with me.”

She opened her eyes—weak, flickering. They were no longer red. No longer gold.

They were brown.

Human brown.

“Erik,” she whispered. “It… it worked.”

“What worked?”

“The ritual. Reversed. The darkness is… gone.” She coughed, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth. “And the transformation… gone too. I’m… human again.”

“That’s good!” Erik took her hand. “That means you’ll heal. You’ll survive!”

“No.” Her smile was sad. “The price… was too high. The key took… everything.”

“No, no, no.” Panic rose in Erik’s chest. “You can’t die. Not now. Not after everything.”

“It’s… okay.” Her breathing grew shallow. “I had a good ending. Saved… saved the city. Saved you.”

“You saved more than that. You saved all of us.”

“Then… then I died for something… good.” Her eyes began to close. “Erik?”

“Yes?”

“The key. Take it. It… it belongs to you.”

“I don’t want it. Not if it costs you.”

“Too late.” Her hand opened, the key slipping free. “Promise… look after it. And… the others.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” One last smile. Then: “Thank you… for everything.”

Her breath caught.

Her eyes closed.

And Helena Konstantin, leader of the Night Watch, died.

Erik held her, weeping, screaming her name into the ruins.

But no one answered.

She was gone.

---

Later—he didn’t know how much later—the others found him.

Marcus. Thomas. Yuki. All bleeding, all exhausted—but alive.

And the babies. All three, unharmed.

They saw Helena, saw Erik’s tears, and understood without words.

“She saved us all,” Thomas whispered, kneeling to pray.

Marcus said nothing, tears in his own eyes.

Yuki collapsed, sobbing.

They remained there among the ruins until the first rays of morning sunlight broke through the shattered ceiling.

The sky over Munich was clear. The unnatural darkness was gone.

Helena had won.

But the price was unbearable.

Erik took the Soul Key—cold and lifeless now.

And he swore an oath.

Helena’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

He would go on. Keep fighting.

For her. For everyone.

Until the end.

CHAPTER 18
The Aftermath

The sun rose over Munich.

Erik stood on the roof of headquarters, watching the city awaken. Cars filled the streets, people hurried to work—everything seemed normal.

They didn’t know how close they had come to annihilation. How one woman had given her life so that they could live.

“You should sleep.”

Yuki had stepped up behind him, two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed one to him.

“I can’t sleep,” Erik said. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Helena. The way she fell.”

“We all see her.” Yuki took a sip of her coffee; her hands trembled slightly. “Marcus hasn’t spoken all night. Thomas has been in the chapel, praying for hours. And I…” She trailed off. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to go on.”

“We go on because that’s what she would expect of us.” Erik turned away from the edge. “Katalin is still alive. The Council is still alive. The war isn’t over.”

“But we have the key.” Yuki gestured toward Erik’s neck, where the artifact hung—somehow darker now, marked by what had happened. “Katalin can’t perform the ritual without it.”

“Can’t she?” Erik shook his head. “She said the key makes the impossible possible. But she was willing to try without it—just with greater difficulty. No, she’ll find another way. She’s a thousand years old. She has time. Patience.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We prepare. We heal. We grow stronger.” Erik looked at her. “And we mourn. Properly. Helena deserves that.”

---

The funeral took place three days later.

Not in a church—Helena had never been religious. Instead, it was held in a small grove on the outskirts of the city, beneath ancient oaks, where the Night Watch buried their fallen.

It was a small ceremony. Just the team: Marcus, Thomas, Yuki, Erik. The three mothers had come—Anna, Mrs. Hartmann, Mrs. Özkan. And Mrs. Wagner with her husband, who had only just awakened from his coma.

And, unexpectedly: a stranger.

An older man, in his late sixties, with white hair and sorrowful eyes. He stood apart, watching.

“Who is that?” Erik whispered to Marcus.

“No idea.” Marcus’s hand drifted toward his weapon. “But he’s not giving off any sense of threat.”

Thomas delivered the eulogy. Simple. Honest. Without religious platitudes.

“Helena Konstantin dedicated her life to protecting the innocent. She fought the darkness, even when the darkness became a part of her. And in the end, she gave everything so that others might live.” Thomas’s voice broke slightly. “She was a warrior. A leader. A friend. And she will never be forgotten.”

They lowered the coffin—plain, made of light wood. Erik had insisted that Helena’s body be recovered from the rubble beneath the Gasteig. She deserved a proper burial.

Each of them threw a handful of earth. Erik went last.

He stood at the edge of the grave, the Soul Key heavy around his neck.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he said softly. “But if you can… thank you. For everything. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself. For guiding me when I was lost. And for the sacrifice you made.”

He tossed his handful of earth and watched it fall onto the coffin.

“I promise I’ll carry on your work. The Night Watch will go on. I will go on.”

He stepped back.

The ceremony ended. The mothers embraced one another, weeping quietly. Thomas and Marcus filled the grave, shovel by shovel.

The stranger stepped up to Erik.

“She was remarkable,” he said. His voice was deep, cultured, with a faint accent—German, but not Bavarian.

“Did you know her?” Erik asked cautiously.

“In a way. My name is Johann Steiner. I… worked with Helena many years ago. Before she founded the Night Watch.”

“Steiner.” Erik frowned. “That was the name Katalin used. The art dealer.”

“My sister.” Johann’s face darkened. “Or the woman who once was my sister, a thousand years ago. Before she became what she is now.”

Erik’s hand moved toward the Soul Key. “You’re Katalin’s brother?”

“I was. But I refused the transformation she embraced. I chose to remain human—to die human.” Johann smiled sadly. “Though ‘die’ may not be quite the right word. I’ve… found ways to extend my life. Not forever, but longer than normal.”

“Why are you here?”

“To mourn. And to warn.” Johann looked at the freshly filled grave. “Helena was one of the few who ever challenged Katalin. Who showed her that even darkness has limits. Her death will not stop Katalin. On the contrary—it will make her angrier. More determined.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.”

“It’s not meant to be. It’s meant to prepare.” Johann took something from his pocket—a small box. “Helena asked me years ago to keep this safe. In case she ever fell. She told me to give it to her successor.”

“Her successor?” Erik took the box. It was heavy, made of dark wood with inlaid silver.

“The person who would lead the Night Watch after her.” Johann met Erik’s eyes. “I assume that’s you.”

“I’m not a leader. I’m just—”

“The bearer of the Soul Key. The man who saved three babies, destroyed an altar, freed Helena from Katalin’s grasp.” Johann smiled. “You underestimate yourself, young man.”

Erik opened the box. Inside: a letter, sealed with wax. And a ring—silver, engraved with a symbol. The same symbol as on the Night Watch’s business card. The eye with the sword.

“The leader’s ring,” Johann explained. “Worn by every head of the Night Watch since its founding in the 13th century. Helena wore it for twenty years. Now it’s yours.”

“I can’t—”

“You must.” Johann’s voice grew firmer. “The Night Watch needs leadership. The city needs protection. And Katalin will not wait until you feel ready.”

Erik looked at the ring, at the letter. His hands trembled.

“Read the letter,” Johann said gently. “If you still doubt afterward, we can talk. But now… now I must go.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere safe. Katalin knows I was here. She’ll ask questions.” Johann turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Erik? One last piece of advice.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t trust the key too much. It is powerful, yes. But it is also hungry. Never forget: it takes as it gives.”

Then he was gone, disappearing among the trees.

Erik remained, the box in his hands.

“What was that about?” Marcus had come up to him, having watched the conversation.

“Katalin’s brother. Apparently.”

“And we just let him go?”

“He’s not a threat. At least not right now.” Erik opened the letter and began to read.

Helena’s handwriting. Familiar now, after two weeks of reading her reports, her notes.

---

Erik,

If you’re reading this, I’m dead. No mourning—I accepted death long before you ever knew me. In our world, it is not the end, but an inevitable consequence.

But my death means that you must lead now. The Night Watch needs a leader. The team needs direction. And Munich needs protection.

I know you don’t feel ready. No one ever does. I didn’t feel ready when I took the ring twenty years ago. Readiness doesn’t come from waiting. It comes from acting.

You’ve already shown what you’re capable of. You saved babies, fought vampires, carried the Soul Key with more dignity than most before you. You are not an ordinary human, Erik. You are something special.

So I ask you: take the ring. Lead the Night Watch. Finish what I began. Stop Katalin, save Munich, protect the innocent.

And when it becomes too heavy, when you doubt—remember those you’ve already saved. Lukas, Sophie, Ayşe. Their families. They live because of you.

That is what we fight for. Not glory. Not power. But for the simple possibility that people can live normal lives, unaware of the darkness.

Let them remain unaware.

In hope and faith,
Helena

---

Erik folded the letter, tears blurring his vision.

“What does it say?” Marcus asked.

“A task.” Erik took the ring from the box, studying it in the morning light. “She wants me to lead the Night Watch.”

“Will you?”

Erik was silent for a long time. Then, slowly, he slid the ring onto his finger.

It fit perfectly.

“Yes,” he said. “I will.”

Marcus nodded, a rare smile on his face. “Good. Because I have no idea how to run an organization.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then we’ll learn together.” Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. The others are waiting. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

---

Back at headquarters, they gathered in the conference room.

The team was smaller now, without Helena. The empty chair at the head of the table hurt to look at.

But they were still here. Marcus, Thomas, Yuki. And now Erik, sitting hesitantly at the head where Helena had always sat.

“First,” Erik began, “we mourn. Properly. Helena deserves our respect, our remembrance. But then…” He took a deep breath. “Then we keep working. Because that’s what she would have wanted.”

“Agreed,” Thomas said. “But we need to be realistic. There are four of us. Against an entire council of vampires.”

“Then we recruit.” Erik looked at Yuki. “You have contacts, right? Other hunters, other organizations?”

“Some. But most of them are… wary of the Night Watch. Helena had enemies in the hunter community.” Yuki hesitated. “She was too progressive for some. Worked with ‘good’ vampires, negotiated instead of killing.”

“Then we convince them she was right.” Erik stood and went to the map. “Katalin is still alive. So is Dimitri. Valentina. And how many others on the Council?”

“At least a dozen,” Thomas said. “Maybe more. Hard to say.”

“And the babies? Did we save all of them?”

“Yes.” Marcus nodded. “All three are with their families. Healed, thanks to the ritual weeks ago. They’ll live normal lives.”

“Good. That’s a victory.” Erik marked something on the map. “But Katalin will seek new victims. Make new plans.”

“She’ll be more cautious now,” Yuki said. “After what Helena did—reversing the ritual, banishing the darkness. Katalin will need time to recover.”

“How much time?”

“Weeks. Maybe months.” Yuki tapped on her laptop. “Rituals like that drain energy. Even for someone as powerful as Katalin.”

“Then we use that time.” Erik turned to the team. “We train. Recruit. Prepare. And we look for Katalin’s weaknesses.”

“Does she even have any?” Marcus asked skeptically. “She’s a thousand years old. What could possibly make her vulnerable?”

“Everyone has weaknesses.” Erik thought of Katalin’s face when Helena defied her. The surprise. The fear—just for a moment. “Even the eldest.”

“Then we’ll find them,” Thomas said. “Together.”

They spent the next hours planning. Recruitment. Training. Surveillance. There was so much to do, so much to organize.

But for the first time in days, Erik felt something like hope.

They had lost. Badly. Helena was dead, and nothing would bring her back.

But they were not defeated.

---

Late at night, when the others had gone to sleep, Erik returned to the training room.

He took the Soul Key, placed it on a table, and studied it.

“You killed her,” he said quietly. “Helena. You consumed her.”

The key did not respond. Of course not.

And yet Erik swore he could hear a whisper. Deep—so deep that he wasn’t sure whether it was real or only in his head.

She gave herself willingly. Like all before her. Like you will one day.

“No.” Erik grabbed the key, felt its coldness. “I won’t end like them. I’ll find a way to control you.”

Many believed that. All failed.

“Then I’ll be the first to succeed.”

Erik slipped the key back around his neck, feeling its weight.

He went to the window and looked out over Munich. The city slept—peaceful, unaware.

Somewhere out there, in the shadows, Katalin was planning. Waiting. Gathering strength for another attempt.

But Erik would be ready.

He was now the leader of the Night Watch. The bearer of the Soul Key. The protector of Munich.

And he would not fail.

For Helena. For the city. For all those who still had to fight.

The war was not over.

But Erik was ready for the next battle.

---

Far beneath the city, in the deepest catacombs, Katalin sat upon a throne of bones.

Dimitri knelt before her, head bowed.

“Mother,” he said. “The ritual failed. Helena—”

“Is dead. I know.” Katalin’s voice was cold, emotionless. “My own daughter, sacrificed for her misguided ideals.”

“Do you mourn her?”

“Mourn a rebel? A traitor?” Katalin stood. “No. But I respect her sacrifice. She died for what she believed in. There are worse ways to die.”

“What do we do now?”

“We wait. Heal. Plan.” Katalin moved to a window—not truly a window, but a magical mirror showing the city above. “The young bearer thinks he’s won. That Helena’s death bought him time.”

“Didn’t it?”

“Time, yes. But not as much as he thinks.” Katalin smiled—cold, cruel. “I have lived a thousand years. I can wait. And when I strike…” She touched the mirror, exactly where Erik’s image appeared. “He will not be ready.”

“When?”

“At the summer solstice. As originally planned.” Katalin turned away. “Six months. Enough time for him to feel safe. Enough time for him to make mistakes.”

“And the Soul Key?”

“It’s with him. But that’s no problem.” Katalin’s eyes gleamed. “The key and its bearer are bound. The more he uses it, the stronger the bond becomes. And one day…” She laughed softly. “He will no longer know where he ends and the key begins.”

“Then he will be ours.”

“Exactly.” Katalin returned to her throne. “Patience, my son. Patience is our greatest weapon.”

She sat down and closed her eyes.

And above, unaware, Munich slept on.

Not knowing that the darkness was merely waiting.

Watching.

Planning.

EPILOGUE
The Gathering

Six months later.

June came to Munich with unusual heat.

The city burned beneath a merciless sun. Tourists crowded the beer gardens, children played in the fountains, and life went on as it always did.

Unaware.

Erik stood at the window of his new office—Helena’s old office—and watched the city he had sworn to protect.

Six months.

Six months since Helena’s death. Since he had taken on the ring of the Night Watch. Since he had become its leader, whether he had wanted it or not.

The months had not been easy.

Recruitment had been slow. Many hunters distrusted the Night Watch, distrusted Erik—too young, too inexperienced, they said. But some had come. Three new members: Sarah, a former police officer from Hamburg. James, a British occultist. And Kenji, a Japanese monk specializing in Eastern vampires.

Training was brutal. Marcus showed no mercy, drilling Erik every day until he could barely stand. But Erik grew stronger. Faster. Better.

And the Soul Key…

Erik touched the artifact around his neck. It felt warmer now. Almost alive. He had been forced to use it often over the past months—small operations, isolated vampires, nothing compared to Katalin, but enough to leave him exhausted.

And every time he used it, he felt the bond grow stronger. The whispers in his head. The souls of previous bearers, calling, tempting, warning.

You will become like us, they whispered. Consumed. Lost.

“Not yet,” Erik murmured. “Not today.”

A knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Marcus entered, a folder in his hand. His face was grim. “We have movement.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.” Marcus placed the folder on the desk and opened it. Inside: surveillance photos, reports, maps. “Yuki intercepted it. Vampires moving toward Munich. Not just from Germany. From all over Europe. France, Italy, Poland, Russia.”

“They’re gathering.”

“Yes. And there’s only one reason they would.” Marcus pointed to a date on one of the reports. “June 21. The summer solstice. Three days from now.”

A cold shiver ran down Erik’s spine. “They’re going to try again.”

“Looks like it. But this time, they’re coming with an army.”

“Do we have numbers?”

“Hard to say. Yuki estimates at least fifty vampires. Possibly more.” Marcus closed the folder. “We’re ten. Even with training and equipment—those are bad odds.”

“Then we improve them.” Erik headed for the door. “Assemble the team. Everyone. We need a strategy.”

---

The team was already waiting in the conference room.

Marcus, Thomas, Yuki—the originals. Sarah, James, Kenji—the newcomers. And, unexpectedly: Anna Berger.

“Anna?” Erik was surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard what’s happening.” Anna stood, resolute. “Katalin is planning something big. Something that threatens my family, my child. I can’t just sit at home and do nothing.”

“It’s too dangerous—”

“Wasn’t it always?” Anna interrupted. “Dr. Konstantin gave her life to save us. The least I can do is help.”

“She’s not alone,” another voice said.

Mrs. Hartmann entered, followed by Mrs. Özkan and Mrs. Wagner with her husband.

“The Mothers’ Brigade,” Marcus muttered—but he smiled. “All right. Welcome to the team.”

They sat down. Erik took the seat at the head of the table—where Helena had once sat.

“Status,” he said, his voice firmer than he felt. “Yuki?”

“Katalin is preparing the ritual. On the summer solstice, as originally planned.” Yuki projected maps onto the screen. “The primary location is the Frauenkirche. But she’s also activated the six surrounding ley line nodes: Viktualienmarkt, the English Garden, the Isar Bridge, Nymphenburg, Olympiapark, and…” She hesitated. “Here. Directly above us.”

“Above headquarters?” Erik stood. “That’s no coincidence.”

“No. She knows where we are. She always has.” Yuki pulled up more data. “I tried masking us, but Katalin is too skilled. She has spies everywhere.”

“Then we assume she knows our every move.” Erik turned to the map. “What does she need for the ritual?”

“Seven sacrifices at the seven points. Simultaneously, at midnight.” Thomas consulted ancient texts. “And something to amplify the power. Originally, she wanted the Soul Key. But without it…”

“What without it?” Erik pressed.

“She needs more sacrifices. Not seven. Seventy.”

Silence filled the room.

“Seventy people,” Anna whispered, horrified. “Where would she find that many?”

“Easily,” Marcus said darkly. “The summer festival. At Odeonsplatz. Tomorrow night. Thousands of people, packed tightly together, celebrating. Perfect hunting ground.”

“We have to cancel it,” Sarah said immediately.

“We can’t,” Yuki shook her head. “I tried. Anonymous bomb threats, fake weather alerts, everything. The city ignored it. Too much money invested. Too much tourism.”

“Then we protect it,” Erik said. “We go there. We guard the festival. And when Katalin strikes, we’re ready.”

“That’s insane,” James said. “We can’t defend thousands of civilians against fifty vampires.”

“Then what—let them die?” Erik looked at each of them in turn. “No. That’s not what the Night Watch stands for. We protect. No matter the cost.”

“Even if it costs us?” Kenji asked quietly.

“Yes.” Erik’s voice was steady. “Even then.”

Thomas stood. “Then we pray. And we prepare. Because tomorrow night will be a battle Munich has never seen.”

---

The next twenty-four hours passed in feverish preparation.

Weapons were distributed. Silver bullets, blessed knives, UV grenades—everything the Night Watch had accumulated over decades.

Warding circles were drawn at strategic points around Odeonsplatz. Hidden, invisible to normal eyes, but powerful enough to slow vampires.

And Erik trained with the Soul Key.

Not alone this time. Thomas helped him, showing him old techniques, forgotten rituals.

“The key is more than a weapon,” Thomas explained. “It’s a conduit. Between worlds. Between life and death. Used correctly, it can do more than repel vampires—it can banish darkness itself.”

“Like Helena did.”

“Yes. But Helena gave her life for it.” Thomas’s eyes were grave. “You must find a way to do it without sacrificing yourself.”

“And if there isn’t one?”

“Then…” Thomas hesitated. “Then you do what must be done. But only as a last resort.”

Erik nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility.

---

Summer solstice.

The longest day of the year.

The sun was merciless, but as evening fell, the city cooled. Thousands streamed toward Odeonsplatz, ready to celebrate.

Music thundered. Beer flowed. Laughter filled the air.

And in the shadows, unseen by the revelers, the Night Watch took their positions.

Erik stood on a rooftop overlooking the square, binoculars in hand. He scanned the crowd, searching for anomalies.

“Anything?” Marcus’s voice crackled in his ear over the comms.

“Not yet. But they’ll come.” Erik checked his watch. 11:47 p.m. “Thirteen minutes to midnight.”

“All positions secured,” Yuki reported. “Sarah at the south entrance, James to the north. Kenji is guarding the Frauenkirche. Thomas is with the mothers, in reserve.”

“Good. Stay sharp.”

The minutes ticked by. 11:50. 11:55.

Then, at 11:58, Erik saw them.

Figures moving through the crowd. Too fluid. Too fast. Vampires.

“Contact,” he said calmly. “They’re here.”

“How many?” Marcus asked, tense.

“I count… ten, fifteen, twenty.” Erik’s heart raced. “No—wait. More are coming. From all directions.”

“Shit. They’re surrounding us.”

“All teams, prepare!” Erik leapt from the roof, landed on the square, rolled.

People stared at him, laughed, thought it was part of the show.

Then the screaming began.

The vampires attacked. Openly. Brutally. No more pretense.

They dragged people down, bit them, fed.

Panic erupted. The crowd surged, trying to flee, but there were too many people, packed too tightly.

“Now!” Erik shouted.

The Night Watch surged forward.

Marcus fired, his pistol a staccato of silver. Vampires fell, howling.

Sarah and James hurled UV grenades. Light exploded—vampires burned, hissed.

Kenji swung his katana, blessed by a hundred monks. Heads rolled.

And Erik raised the Soul Key.

Light exploded outward, a wave of golden energy that hurled vampires back and shielded civilians.

But there were too many.

For every vampire they killed, two more took their place. The crowd was being slaughtered.

“We’re losing!” Sarah screamed. “There are too many!”

“Hold the line!” Erik fought his way toward the center of the square. “Just a little—”

A voice, amplified, magical, drowned out all others:

“Midnight.”

The bells of the Frauenkirche began to ring.

And from the ground—at each of the seven ley line points—darkness rose.

Not smoke. Not shadow. Manifest darkness. Solid. Tangible. Alive.

It reached out, seized people, dragged them inside.

Screams. Everywhere.

Erik watched in horror as dozens of people were pulled into the darkness.

“No!” He raised the key higher, summoned more light.

But it wasn’t enough.

The darkness devoured the light, growing stronger.

“Erik!” Thomas’s voice came over the comms. “You have to perform the ritual! The one I showed you!”

“But it will kill me!”

“If you don’t, they will all die!”

Erik looked around. The Night Watch was fighting—but they were overwhelmed. Marcus lay bleeding. Sarah and James were surrounded. Kenji fought three vampires at once.

And the civilians—thousands of innocent people—were being dragged into the dark.

Erik made his decision.

“Thomas, tell the others to fall back. As far as they can.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What Helena did.” Erik took a deep breath. “What must be done.”

He moved to the center of the square, where the darkness was strongest.

Raised the Soul Key with both hands.

And began to chant. The words Thomas had taught him. Ancient words, in a language older than Latin, older than Greek, older than everything.

The language of the first hunters.

The key began to glow—brighter than it ever had before.

And Erik felt his soul being pulled into it.

No, whispered the voices of the previous bearers. Not like this. You’ll become like us. Trapped. Eternal.

“Then I’ll be trapped,” Erik said aloud. “But I will not watch innocent people die.”

He pressed the key against his chest.

The light exploded.

Not outward this time.

Inward.

Into Erik.

He screamed. Pain beyond anything he had ever known—as if every cell in his body were burning.

But he held on.

The light poured out of him and the key, mingling, merging, becoming one.

And it collided with the darkness.

The impact was cataclysmic.

A shockwave tore across the square, hurling vampires back, ripping people free from the dark.

The darkness began to crack, to splinter.

And Erik felt himself fading.

Piece by piece, the key pulled him in.

This is the end, he thought. Like Helena. I’m going to die.

Then—a hand.

Reaching for him through the light.

A familiar hand.

“Not yet, Erik.”

Helena.

She stood there, within the light—translucent, a spirit, a memory.

But real enough to hold him.

“You’re not ready to die,” she said gently. “You still have so much to do.”

“But the ritual—”

“Doesn’t have to cost your life. Only your will. Your resolve.” Helena smiled. “Fight, Erik. Like you always have. Not against the key. With it.”

“I don’t understand—”

“You will.” She released him, stepped back into the light. “Live. Lead. Protect. For me. For everyone.”

Then she was gone.

And Erik understood.

The key was not an enemy. Not a tool that only took.

It was a partner. One that gave and took in equal measure.

And if Erik was willing to give—not his life, but his will, his strength, his determination—then the key would give in return.

Erik opened himself to the key. Completely. Without condition.

And the light exploded again.

But this time, it didn’t hurt.

This time, it was harmonious.

The darkness tore apart completely, disintegrating into nothing.

The vampires screamed, fled, burned in the light.

And the people—the surviving people—collapsed to the ground. Free. Breathing. Alive.

The light faded.

Erik collapsed, exhausted—but alive.

The key around his neck glowed faintly, soothing.

“You did it,” a voice whispered in his mind. Not threatening. Not hungry.

Grateful.

“We did it,” Erik corrected softly. “Together.”

---

The aftermath was chaotic.

Hundreds injured. Dozens dead—despite everything the Night Watch had done.

But thousands survived.

The official story was a terrorist attack. A radical group. Drugs that caused mass hallucinations.

No one spoke of vampires. The world wasn’t ready for that truth.

But Erik knew.

And the Night Watch knew.

Katalin had fled in the chaos. Dimitri too. The Council was shattered—but not destroyed.

They would return. One day.

Until then, Erik would be ready.

---

A week later, Erik stood at the grave once more.

Helena’s grave, beneath the ancient oaks.

He laid down fresh flowers.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For saving us. Once again.”

The wind rustled through the leaves. Almost like an answer.

“I’ll keep going,” Erik promised. “The Night Watch will grow, become stronger. And one day…” He touched the Soul Key. “One day we’ll stop Katalin. For good.”

He turned to leave.

Marcus waited at the edge of the grove, beside a car.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” Erik got in.

They drove back to headquarters. To the city. To work.

There was still much to do.

Hunt monsters. Protect people. Fight the darkness.

But Erik was no longer alone.

He had a team. A family. And a purpose.

The war against the darkness was not over.

But the Night Watch was ready.

Munich was safe.

For now.

---

Far beneath the city, in a new hiding place, Katalin sat.

Her face was calm, but her eyes burned with unrestrained fury.

“He will pay,” she whispered. “They will all pay.”

“When, Mother?” Dimitri asked.

“Soon. But not rashly. I’ve lived a thousand years. I can wait.” She smiled coldly. “And when I strike, Erik Schönwaldt will not be ready.”

“And if he is?”

“Then it will be all the sweeter to break him.”

She leaned back into the shadows.

And waited.

---

END OF VOLUME 2

Erik Schönwaldt returns in:
Volume 3: THE SUMMER SOLSTICE
The Final Battle for Munich

---

THE END

Volume 3 in English Language follows on February, 11th.