Volume 3: The Summer Solstice
PROLOGUE: Six Months Later
Snow fell softly over Munich.
Thick, heavy flakes wrapped the city in a blanket of white. It was the twenty-first of December, the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. By four in the afternoon it was already dark, and the streetlights cast yellow cones of light onto the snow-covered sidewalks.
Erik Schönwaldt stood at the window of his office, watching the city below him. His breath fogged the cold glass. He wiped it clear with his sleeve, only to see the mist return at once.
Six months.
Six months since the battle at Odeonsplatz. Six months since Helena’s sacrifice. Six months in which he had tried to fill her shoes—and felt every single day how far too large they were for him.
The Soul Key hung heavily around his neck. Erik reached for it, felt the familiar weight, the warmth radiating from it. Over the past months, the key had become a part of him. Or he had become a part of the key—sometimes he no longer knew where the line was.
You will learn, whispered the voices in his head. Just as we learned. Just as all those before you.
“Shut up,” Erik muttered, turning away from the window.
His office—Helena’s old office—had grown larger. More furniture, more files, more responsibility. Maps of Munich hung on the walls, each marked with dozens of colored pins. Red for vampire sightings. Blue for solved cases. Black for the dead.
Too many black pins.
Despite everything they had done, despite the battle, despite the victory—Munich was not safe. It would never truly be safe. The vampires had simply grown more cautious, hiding deeper, hunting more selectively.
But they were still there.
And Katalin… Katalin was out there somewhere. Wounded, weakened, but not dead. Erik could feel it. Sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, he thought he could sense her presence. A cold that did not come from winter.
A knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Marcus entered, his arm still in a sling. The injuries from the battle had been worse than he had admitted. Three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a stab wound that had narrowly missed his heart. The doctors said he had been lucky.
Erik saw only a man who had grown too old for this war.
“Situation report,” Marcus said, dropping into the armchair in front of the desk. His face twisted with pain, but he tried to hide it. “Three incidents last night. All in Westend.”
“Vampires?”
“Most likely. Two homeless people found dead. Extreme anemia. The usual wounds.” Marcus placed a folder on the desk. “Weber did the autopsies. Same bite patterns as before, but… different.”
“Different how?”
“Less precise. Almost… frantic.” Marcus rubbed his face. “As if the perpetrators were afraid. Or inexperienced.”
Erik opened the folder and looked at the photos. The wounds really were different—deeper, more irregular. Not the surgical precision Katalin’s vampires had shown.
“New vampires,” he said. “Young. Unrestrained.”
“That’s what I think too. Which means someone is creating them.” Marcus leaned back. “The question is: who? Katalin has gone underground. Dimitri vanished with her. Whoever is doing this is either new in the city or—”
“Or someone we overlooked,” Erik finished, closing the folder. “Yuki—she’s still in the library?”
“Where else?” Marcus smiled faintly. “She hasn’t left the archive in three days. I think she’s sleeping down there.”
“I’ll talk to her.” Erik stood and grabbed his jacket. “What about the new recruits?”
“Sarah gets discharged from the hospital next week. The wound has healed, but the scar…” Marcus fell silent. They all bore scars now—some visible, some not.
“James?”
“Still in therapy. What happened with his daughter… it broke him, Erik. I don’t know if he’ll ever be operational again.”
Erik nodded. James had saved his daughter, but the price had been high. The girl had spent two months in Katalin’s clutches. Whatever had happened there, she didn’t talk about it. And James… James could barely look at his daughter without breaking down.
“And Kenji?”
“Training the new ones. We have five now. All motivated, all capable. But…” Marcus hesitated. “They’re young, Erik. Too young. They’ve never fought anything real.”
“Then they’ll learn,” Erik said, pulling on his jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the weapons in the inner pockets. “Just like we all had to.”
“Helena would have taken more time for training.”
“Helena had twenty years.” Erik’s voice grew sharper than he had intended. “I have six months. And I’m doing my best.”
Marcus raised his hands placatingly. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… tired.”
“We’re all tired.” Erik went to the door, then paused. “Go home, Marcus. Get some rest. That’s an order.”
“Since when do you give me orders?” Marcus smiled, though weakly.
“Since Helena gave me that damned ring.” Erik touched the silver on his finger. “And since you’re the one who told me to take it seriously.”
“Touché.” Marcus struggled to his feet. “But if something happens—”
“I’ll call you. I promise.”
Marcus nodded and left. Erik stood there for a moment longer, looking at the chaos on his desk. Reports, photos, old newspapers with headlines about the ‘gas explosion’ at Odeonsplatz. The official story the world believed.
The lie that was necessary.
Erik sighed and left the office.
The headquarters of the Night Watch had changed over the past months.
What had once been an old bookshop was now only a façade. Behind it lay three floors of cutting-edge technology, training rooms, and an archive spanning centuries.
Erik descended the spiral staircase into the basement, where the air grew cooler and smelled of old paper. Light glowed beneath a door at the end of the corridor.
The library.
He knocked and waited.
“Come in!” Yuki’s voice sounded tired.
Erik opened the door. The room was large, with shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling. Tables were covered in books—ancient manuscripts, dusty tomes—and Yuki’s laptop, sitting amid the chaos like an anachronism.
Yuki sat at one of the tables, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, black hair tied into a messy bun. Three open books lay before her, all in languages Erik couldn’t identify.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“So should you.” Yuki didn’t look up. “Yet here we both are.”
Erik sat down across from her. “Marcus says the new vampires are different. Unrestrained.”
“I know. I’ve read the reports.” Yuki slid one book aside and grabbed another. “And I think I know why.”
“Tell me.”
“Do you remember what Katalin tried to do with her ritual? The eternal night?” Yuki tapped a page. “She didn’t succeed. But the ritual… it left traces. Energetic resonances along the ley lines.”
“In plain English?”
Yuki smiled faintly. “The barrier between our world and… the other side has grown thinner. Not much, but enough. Vampires can now be created more easily. The transformation process is faster, less controlled.”
“Which means more people are turning.”
“And those who turn are more unstable. Hungrier. More dangerous.” Yuki removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “We’re only seeing the beginning, Erik. If we do nothing, Munich will be a vampire nest within a year.”
A chill ran down Erik’s spine. “What can we do?”
“Strengthen the barrier. There are rituals—old rituals—that—” Yuki fell silent, her gaze fixing on something behind Erik.
He turned.
At the edge of the room, half-hidden in the shadows between two shelves, stood a figure.
Erik’s hand flew to his weapon. “ARIA!” he called. “Intruder in the library! Alarm!”
Nothing. The AI did not respond.
“Your artificial intelligence is… paused,” the figure said in a voice that sounded male and old, with an accent Erik couldn’t place. “Only temporarily. I didn’t want us to be disturbed.”
“Whoever you are,” Erik said, drawing his weapon and aiming at the shadows, “you have three seconds to show yourself before I shoot.”
“No violence, please.” The figure slowly raised its hands, palms outward. “I didn’t come to fight.”
“That’s what they all say,” Erik growled. “Into the light. Now.”
The figure stepped forward. Centimeter by centimeter, as if it had all the time in the world.
It was a man—or something that had once been a man. Old, perhaps seventy in appearance, with long gray hair falling over his shoulders. His face was angular, marked by time and pain, with deep lines around his mouth and eyes. He wore a long dark coat that looked as if it came from another century—heavy cloth, with strange symbols embroidered along the hem.
But it was the eyes that made Erik pause. Silver. Not gray—silver, like polished metal, glowing in the dim light of the library. No human had eyes like that.
Vampire. A very, very old one.
“How did you get in here?” Erik did not lower the weapon. “Our barriers should—”
“Your barriers are impressive. Truly.” The old man smiled, but it was a sad smile. “For young vampires they would be insurmountable. Ultraviolet radiation in the doorframes. Blessed salt beneath the thresholds. Silver dust in the ventilation. Helena did good work.” He inclined his head respectfully. “But I… I am old. Older than your traps. Older than this city.”
“Who are you?” Yuki held a bottle of holy water, ready to throw.
The old man studied them both with a gaze that seemed to span a thousand years. “My name is Lucian. A thousand years ago I bore another name, in a land that no longer exists. But that no longer matters.” His silver eyes fixed on Erik. “I was once part of the Council. I served Katalin, the Great Mother you fought. For five hundred years I was her shadow, her enforcer, her most loyal servant.”
“Was?” Erik’s finger rested on the trigger.
“Was.” Lucian’s voice hardened. “I am no longer loyal to Katalin. On the contrary—I am here to warn you.”
“Warn us about what?” Yuki’s voice was controlled, but Erik could hear the tension.
“About what is to come.” Lucian stepped closer, slowly, carefully. “Katalin is planning her revenge. You think you have six months of peace. But that is wrong. She has been working the whole time, deep beneath the city. Gathering strength. Gathering allies.”
“What does she want?”
“The same as always. Eternal night. The gate to the other side.” Lucian stopped two meters away. “But this time she will not fail. She has learned from her mistakes. And she has found something… something that changes everything.”
“What?”
“The legend of the three keys.” Lucian’s gaze fell to Erik’s chest, where the Soul Key was hidden beneath his jacket. “You carry one. But there are two more. And if Katalin finds all three, if she uses them at the next summer solstice…” He trailed off.
“What happens then?” Erik pressed.
“Then not only Munich will fall. Then the world as you know it will end.” Lucian lowered his hands. “The Progenitors will awaken. The first vampires, so old they are like gods. And when they awaken…”
“Then it’s over,” Yuki whispered.
“Yes.”
Silence filled the library. Erik could hear his own heart, fast—too fast.
“Why should we believe you?” he asked at last. “You’re a vampire. Part of the Council.”
“Was part of the Council.” Lucian’s voice grew harder. “I served Katalin for a thousand years. I believed in her vision. But what she plans now… that is not vision. It is madness. The Progenitors should sleep. Forever. If they awaken, they will not distinguish between human and vampire. They will devour everything.”
“And you want to help us stop her.”
“I do not want to see the world end. Not even after a thousand years.” Lucian drew something from his coat—a map, old and yellowed—and laid it on the table. “The other two keys. I know where they are. Or at least, where they should be.”
Erik and Yuki leaned over the map. Two locations were marked. One in Vienna. One in—Erik narrowed his eyes.
“Falkenstein Castle,” he whispered.
“Yes.” Lucian nodded. “Where your story began. Where it could end.”
Erik took the map and studied it. His thoughts raced. If this was true, if there really were three keys, if Katalin was searching for all of them…
“We have to find them first,” he said.
“Yes. But be careful.” Lucian turned toward the door. “Katalin is not alone. She has allies more powerful than you can imagine. And she will do anything to obtain the keys.”
“Wait.” Erik stood. “Where are you going?”
“Back into the shadows. Where I belong.” Lucian paused in the doorway, turning halfway back. “But I will help you where I can. Information. Warnings. That is all I can offer.”
“Why?”
“Because I am tired, Erik Schönwaldt. Tired of war. Tired of death. And because…” He hesitated. “Because Helena once saved my life. Long ago, when I still believed redemption was possible. She showed me there is another way.”
“You knew Helena?”
“In passing. But enough to know she was remarkable. And that her sacrifice should not be in vain.” Lucian smiled faintly. “Honor her memory. Stop Katalin. Save the world.”
Then he was gone, as quietly as he had come.
Erik and Yuki stood there, staring at the empty doorway.
“Do you believe him?” Yuki asked at last.
“I don’t know.” Erik looked at the map. “But if he’s right… if there really are three keys…”
“Then we have no choice.” Yuki folded the map. “We have to find them. Before Katalin does.”
Erik nodded slowly. He felt the weight of the key around his neck, felt its warmth, its whisper.
It begins, said the voices. The end or the beginning. Only you can decide.
“Gather the team,” Erik said. “All of them. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Now? It’s almost midnight.”
“Katalin doesn’t wait for convenient times.” Erik headed for the door. “Neither do we.”
Far beneath the city, deeper than the catacombs, deeper than the subway tunnels, deeper than the very foundations of Munich itself, Katalin sat in her new throne room.
It was smaller than the old one, more provisional. But it would suffice. For now.
Dimitri knelt before her, his head bowed.
“Lucian has contacted them,” he said. “Just as you predicted.”
“Of course he has.” Katalin smiled. “Lucian was always predictable. His sentimentality is his weakness.”
“Do you think they’ll search for the keys?”
“I know they will. Erik is impulsive, young, desperate to do something.” Katalin stood and walked to a mirror—not a real mirror, but a magical projection showing the city above. “He will go to Vienna. And to Falkenstein. Exactly as I want.”
“Why?”
“Because while he hunts, we prepare.” Katalin touched the mirror, right where the Frauenkirche stood. “The summer solstice is in six months. Enough time to arrange everything.”
“And if he finds the keys?”
“Then we take them from him.” Katalin turned back to Dimitri. “But I don’t believe he will find them. Not all of them. Not in time.”
“You already have them.”
Katalin’s smile widened. She went to a small altar in the corner, where something lay hidden beneath a black cloth. She pulled the cloth away.
On black velvet lay two keys. Iron, ancient, with ornaments that glowed faintly in the dim light.
“The Vienna Key and the Falkenstein Key,” she said. “Both already in my possession. Lucian’s map is a lie. A beautiful lure.”
“Then what is in Vienna? What is in Falkenstein?”
“Traps. Very clever traps.” Katalin covered the keys again. “If Erik goes there, he will be occupied. Injured, perhaps. Weakened, definitely. And while he fights, we will work here. Undisturbed.”
“Brilliant.” Dimitri rose. “And his key?”
“We will take it. At the summer solstice. When everything is ready.” Katalin returned to her throne. “Patience, my son. Patience is our greatest weapon.”
She sat down and closed her eyes.
Outside, hundreds of meters above her, Munich celebrated the end of the shortest day. Lights glittered, Christmas markets were full, people laughed.
Unaware.
Always unaware.
Katalin smiled in the darkness.
Only six more months.
Then the sun would set forever.
CHAPTER 1: The New Normal
The alarm clock rang at five in the morning.
Erik slapped at it blindly, hitting it on the third try. The ringing stopped, but the damage was done—he was awake. Fully, painfully awake.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling of his apartment. The same apartment as six months ago, yet it felt different. Stranger. As if it belonged to someone else.
Maybe it did. The man who had once lived here—the insurance clerk with the boring job and predictable weekends—no longer existed. In his place was… what? A vampire hunter? A leader? A man who spoke to the dead?
Erik sat up and rubbed his face. He had slept badly again. Nightmares, every night. Sometimes it was Helena falling. Sometimes Clara burning. Sometimes his great-grandparents, trapped for eternity.
And sometimes—worst of all—he dreamed of the people he hadn’t saved. The faces at Odeonsplatz, swallowed by darkness before he could reach them.
Thirty-four, whispered the voices in his head. The souls in the key, never silent. Thirty-four dead. Not bad. But not good enough.
“I did my best,” Erik muttered, getting up.
Your best is never enough. Not in this war.
He ignored the voices and went into the bathroom. The light above the mirror flickered—it had needed replacing for weeks, but Erik never found the time. He looked at his reflection.
Twenty-six years old, but he looked older. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair longer than he usually wore it. Stubble threatening to turn into a beard he would never bother to shave.
And the scars. New scars added to the old ones. A thin line on his neck where Valentina’s claw had grazed him. A burn on his left forearm from the ritual at Odeonsplatz. And over his heart, barely visible—the spot where he had pressed the Soul Key against his chest when the light had burst out of him.
Erik turned away from the mirror. Some things were better not stared at for too long.
The shower was cold—the heating in his old building worked only sporadically. But the cold helped wake him. He showered quickly and got dressed. Black jeans, dark shirt, leather jacket. Practical, inconspicuous. And enough pockets for weapons.
The Soul Key lay on the nightstand, where he placed it every night. Erik picked it up and held it for a moment. In the morning light it looked harmless. Just an old key.
But Erik could feel the pulsing. The whispering of the souls trapped inside. The power waiting to be unleashed.
Wear me, the voices whispered. Use me. We are ready.
“I know.” Erik put the key around his neck, feeling the familiar weight. “But only if it has to be.”
It always has to. Sooner or later.
Erik left the apartment at half past five. Outside it was still dark, the streets empty except for a few early commuters and the garbage trucks. Yesterday’s snow had turned into gray slush that soaked his shoes.
He walked to headquarters. Twenty minutes through the waking city. Normally he would have taken the subway, but since the battle at Odeonsplatz he avoided underground places. Too many memories. Too many shadows.
Munich’s streets looked peaceful in the dawn light. Christmas decorations still hung in shop windows, even though Christmas was over. A few bakeries were already open, the smell of fresh bread in the air.
Normal. Everything so normal.
Erik knew better. He saw the signs others missed. The graffiti on certain walls—not ordinary tags, but markings in an ancient language. Warnings. Territorial boundaries.
The homeless people sleeping in doorways—some truly homeless. Others guards. Vampires sleeping through the day, controlling the streets at night.
And the shadows. Always the shadows, moving when they shouldn’t.
You see too much, the voices said. That is the burden of the bearer. You can no longer look away.
“I don’t want to,” Erik muttered.
He reached the bookshop at six. From the outside it still looked the same—closed, dusty, forgotten. But when Erik opened the door and entered the code on the hidden keypad, everything changed.
Lights flickered on. The shelves full of books were only an illusion—holograms projected by devices in the walls. Behind them lay the real rooms. The heart of the Night Watch.
“Good morning, Erik,” said a synthetic voice from the speakers. ARIA—Automated Response and Intelligence Assistant. Yuki’s latest creation, an AI system monitoring security.
“Morning, ARIA. Status?”
“No incidents overnight. All security systems functional. Marcus arrived at 4:37 a.m. and is in the training room. Yuki is in the library, as always.”
“She was here all night?”
“Affirmative. Shall I remind her that humans require sleep?”
“Do that.” Erik stepped through the curtain toward the stairs. “And tell Marcus to stop training before he injures himself even more.”
“Message delivered. Would you like coffee?”
“Always.”
Erik descended the spiral staircase. The headquarters had expanded over the past months. What had once been three floors was now five. Yuki had discovered old catacombs beneath the building and converted them into storage rooms and an expanded archive.
On the second level, Erik stopped. The training rooms were here. Through the glass wall he could see Marcus, despite his injuries, pounding away at a punching bag.
Erik opened the door. “You should rest.”
Marcus stopped, panting, drenched in sweat. “Says the man who gets up at five every day.”
“I don’t have broken ribs.”
“They’ve healed,” Marcus said, grabbing a towel and wiping his face. “Mostly.”
“Marcus—”
“I can’t just sit around, Erik.” Marcus’s voice hardened. “I’ve been a hunter for thirty years. It’s all I know. If I stop…” He shook his head. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not fighting.”
Erik understood. Better than he wanted to admit.
“Then train the new ones,” he said. “Kenji is good, but he needs help. Five recruits are a lot for one man.”
“I’m not a teacher.”
“You were mine.” Erik smiled faintly. “And I’m still alive.”
“Barely.” But Marcus smiled too. “All right. I’ll talk to Kenji. But I want to be in the field when things get serious.”
“When things get serious, I’ll need everyone.” Erik turned to leave. “Briefing at eight. Be there.”
“Aye, boss.”
Erik continued downward to the third level. This was where the offices were, the conference room, the command center with its dozens of monitors watching different parts of Munich.
And in the corner, almost hidden—Helena’s old office. Now his.
Erik stopped in front of the door, as he did every morning. Hesitated, as he did every morning.
She’s dead, the voices said. You can’t bring her back. Go in. Do your job.
He opened the door.
The office was tidy—Erik had removed most of Helena’s personal belongings, packed them into boxes, stored them in the archive. But he had kept a few things. A photo of Helena and her team, taken ten years ago. All smiling, young, hopeful.
Most of them were dead now.
And on the desk, in a simple frame—the letter Helena had left him. Erik didn’t read it every day anymore, but it was there. A reminder.
Readiness does not come from waiting. It comes from acting.
Erik sat down and turned on the computer. As it booted up, he drank the coffee ARIA had delivered to his desk. Not actually beamed—vacuum tube system, installed by Yuki. But sometimes it felt like magic.
The screen flickered on. Dozens of open windows—reports, surveillance videos, emails from contacts all over the city.
Erik began to work.
Two hours passed in a whirl of data. Sighting reports from the previous night. Three vampires in Westend—Marcus had been right. All young, inexperienced. One of the new creatures created by the weakened barrier.
A break-in at a blood depot at the university hospital. Nothing stolen, but traces of something… else. Yuki would have to analyze that.
And then, buried between spam and routine messages—an email that made Erik pause.
Sender: A. Berger.
Anna.
Erik opened it.
Erik,
I hope this message reaches you. I know we’re not supposed to communicate directly (you’ve said that often enough), but I have to ask you something.
Lukas is almost two now. He’s healthy, happy, completely normal. The doctors say there are no signs of… of what happened. The ritual worked.
But sometimes, at night, he wakes up screaming. And when I calm him, he says things. Words in a language I don’t understand. Old words.
Is that normal? Could there… could there still be something of the darkness in him?
Please, tell me the truth. I can’t handle this alone.
Anna
Erik leaned back and rubbed his eyes. Damn it.
Lukas was supposed to be healed. The ritual they had performed before the big battle—it was meant to remove all traces of vampire essence. Thomas had checked it himself. Three times.
But Thomas was dead. And no one else in the Night Watch had his knowledge of rituals.
Erik grabbed his phone and typed a reply.
Anna,
Bring Lukas to headquarters tomorrow. Afternoon, 2 p.m. I’ll have him examined.
Erik
Short. Factual. But what else could he say? Don’t worry, your child is probably not possessed by demonic energy?
He sent the message and made a note. Tomorrow, 2 p.m., examine Lukas. Maybe Yuki could help. Or one of the new recruits—Kenji had experience with spiritual cleansing.
A knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Yuki entered, a stack of books under her arm, glasses crooked on her nose. She looked exhausted, but her eyes glowed with an intensity Erik recognized—she had found something.
“I need to talk to you,” she said without preamble.
“About Lucian’s map?”
“About everything.” Yuki dropped the books onto his desk. “I researched all night. The legend of the three keys, the Progenitors, all of it.”
“And?”
“And it’s true. All of it.” Yuki sat down and pulled one of the books toward her. “Look at this.”
It was an old manuscript, handwritten, in a language Erik thought was Latin—but not quite.
“This is a text from the 12th century,” Yuki explained. “Written by a monk named Gregor, who claimed to have seen the Progenitors. Here—” She pointed to a passage. “He describes three artifacts, forged by the first alchemists. Keys that can open the gates between worlds.”
“Like the Soul Key.”
“Exactly. But more powerful when combined. Separately they open doors, create barriers, manipulate energy. But together…” Yuki looked up. “Together they can awaken the Progenitors. The first vampires, who existed before the Flood.”
“Before the Flood? That’s—”
“Mythology, I know. But what if it isn’t? What if there was a time, long before recorded history, when vampires ruled the world? And what if they didn’t die out, but merely… slept?”
A chill ran down Erik’s spine. “Where do they sleep?”
“No one knows. The texts speak of a place ‘beyond the veils,’ ‘beneath the deepest sea,’ ‘in the heart of the earth.’ Metaphors, perhaps. Or literal.” Yuki leaned back. “But if Katalin uses the three keys, she’ll find the way. And then…”
“Then she awakens gods.”
“Not gods. But close enough.” Yuki’s face was grave. “Erik, if that happens, there’s nothing we can do. No one can. The Progenitors are beyond anything we can fight.”
“Then we make sure it doesn’t happen.” Erik stood. “Lucian’s map shows Vienna and Falkenstein. If the keys are there, we have to find them first.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No. You stay here, hold headquarters together. Marcus can’t lead, not with his injuries. I need you here.”
“But—”
“That’s an order, Yuki.” Erik’s voice hardened. “If something happens, if Katalin attacks while I’m gone, you’re the only one who can keep everything running.”
Yuki wanted to protest, but something in Erik’s face stopped her. She nodded slowly.
“All right. But take someone with you. Sarah is almost healed, she can—”
“I’m taking Kenji. He’s the best trained of the new ones.” Erik headed for the door. “And maybe… maybe James.”
“James? Erik, he’s not ready. Not mentally.”
“Then it’s time he became ready. I can’t protect him forever.” Erik opened the door. “Briefing in twenty minutes. Tell the others.”
He left before Yuki could argue further.
The conference room was full when Erik entered.
Marcus sat at the table, freshly showered but still looking exhausted. Yuki had her laptop open, cables connecting it to the main monitor.
And the new ones: Kenji, the Japanese monk, sat in the lotus position on his chair, eyes closed, meditating. Sarah, the former police officer, leaned against the wall with a coffee mug in hand. Her left arm was still bandaged, but she looked ready to fight.
And in the corner, almost hidden—James. He looked thinner than six months ago, his face drawn, eyes restless. He didn’t meet Erik’s gaze.
The three other recruits were in the field, on night patrol.
“Thanks for coming,” Erik began, taking the seat at the head of the table. Helena’s seat. His seat now.
“What’s up, boss?” Sarah took a sip of coffee. “ARIA said it was urgent.”
“It is.” Erik nodded to Yuki. She typed on her laptop, and the monitor flickered on.
Lucian’s map appeared. The two marked locations glowed red.
“We had a visitor last night,” Erik said. “A vampire named Lucian. Former member of the Council, claims to have defected.”
“Do you believe him?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t know. But what he told us…” Erik stood and walked to the map. “He warned us about Katalin’s plan. She wants to repeat the ritual at the next summer solstice. But this time with three artifacts—three Soul Keys.”
Silence fell over the room.
“Three?” Sarah set down her mug. “I thought there was only one.”
“So did we,” Yuki said. “But I researched all night. The legend is real. There are three keys, forged centuries ago. Separately they are powerful. Together they are… godlike.”
“And Katalin wants all three,” Kenji said, opening his eyes. “To do what?”
“To awaken the Progenitors,” Erik replied calmly. “The first vampires. If they awaken, not only Munich will fall. The world will.”
“Shit,” Sarah whispered.
“Where are the other keys?” Marcus asked.
“According to Lucian’s map: one in Vienna, one in Falkenstein Castle.” Erik pointed to the markings. “I’m going to both places. Find the keys before Katalin does.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow. I fly to Vienna, search the museum where the key is supposed to be. Then on to Falkenstein.”
“I’m coming with you.” Marcus stood.
“No.” Erik shook his head. “You stay here, oversee the recruits. Yuki stays, coordinates everything. Sarah—” He looked at her. “You’re not operational yet. I’m sorry.”
“Damn it, Erik—”
“This isn’t a discussion.” Erik turned to Kenji. “You’re coming with me. And James.”
Everyone stared at him. James looked up, surprise and fear in his eyes.
“I… I can’t,” James stammered. “I’m not… I’m not ready.”
“Then you’ll get ready on the way.” Erik walked over, knelt in front of him, and looked him in the eyes. “James, I know what you’ve been through. What your daughter went through. But you can’t stay in the shadows forever. Katalin broke you. It’s time you struck back.”
“And if I fail? If I let you down?”
“Then you let us down. But I don’t think you will.” Erik stood. “We fly tomorrow morning. Pack light. Weapons, essentials. We’ll be back in three days.”
“And if it’s a trap?” Yuki asked quietly. “If Lucian is lying?”
“Then we walk into it with our eyes open.” Erik touched the Soul Key around his neck. “But we have no choice. If the keys are real, if Katalin is looking for them—we have to be there first.”
“And if she’s already there?” Marcus asked.
“Then we fight.” Erik’s voice hardened. “Like we always do.”
He looked at each of them in turn. Saw the doubts, the fears—but also the determination.
“We won the last battle,” he said. “But we lost a lot. Thomas. Helena. Too many others. I won’t let their sacrifice be for nothing. We will stop Katalin. Whatever it costs.”
“Whatever it costs,” Marcus repeated. One by one, the others joined in.
Even James, his voice barely audible.
“Whatever it costs.”
After the briefing, Erik stayed behind in the conference room. The others had left to prepare, to pack, to plan.
Only Yuki remained, packing up her laptop.
“Erik,” she said softly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you really think James is ready? Or are you just trying to save him?”
Erik was silent for a moment. “Both,” he admitted finally. “But mostly the latter.”
“That’s dangerous. For him. For all of you.”
“I know. But…” Erik looked out the window, where Munich was waking up. “Helena wouldn’t have given up. Not on him. Not on anyone. She believed everyone could be saved.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know. But I have to try.” Erik turned to her. “Watch over them while I’m gone. All of them.”
“I will.” Yuki went to the door, then paused. “And Erik? Come back. Alive. We need you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your best is never enough.” Yuki smiled faintly. “So do more.”
Then she was gone.
Erik remained alone in the conference room. He walked to the window and looked out over the city.
Somewhere out there, deep beneath the streets, Katalin was planning. Waiting. Lurking.
And in two days, Erik would walk into her trap.
If it was one.
If not… then maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.
You know it’s a trap, the voices whispered. Lucian works for her. The keys aren’t there. You’re wasting time.
“Maybe,” Erik said aloud. “But I have to be sure.”
Certainty is an illusion. There is only action and waiting. And waiting kills.
“Then we act.” Erik touched the key, felt its warmth. “And we’ll see who’s right.”
He left the room and returned to his office.
There was still a lot to do before tomorrow. Book flights. Prepare weapons. Warn contacts in Vienna and the Black Forest.
And tomorrow afternoon—examine Lukas. The child they had saved. The child who might not be entirely healed after all.
Erik sat down at his desk and began to type.
The work continued.
It always continued.
Until the end.
Whatever the end might be.
Far beneath the city, in her new throne room, Katalin felt the movement.
“He’s taking the bait,” she said to Dimitri. “Just as predicted.”
“Shall we activate the traps?”
“Not yet. Let him come to Vienna. Let him think he has a chance.” Katalin smiled. “The more hope he has, the sweeter the despair will be when he learns the truth.”
“And if he finds the keys?”
“He won’t. But even if he does…” Katalin touched the two real keys on her altar. “We have what we need. His key comes later. At the summer solstice.”
“Six months.”
“Six months.” Katalin’s eyes glowed in the darkness. “And then everything will be different.”
She closed her eyes and sank into meditation.
Outside, the sun rose over Munich.
Unaware, as always.
But not for much longer.
CHAPTER 2: Travel Preparations
The day passed in a feverish blur of preparations.
Erik spent hours organizing the trip. Flights to Vienna—three tickets, tomorrow morning at six. A rental car for the drive to Falkenstein. Contacts in both cities, discreet inquiries about whether anyone had noticed unusual vampire activity.
The answers were… unsettling.
In Vienna, there had been five unexplained deaths over the past two weeks. All near the Kunsthistorisches Museum, where—according to Lucian’s map—the second key was supposed to be. The Austrian Nightwatch—a small cell, only three members—reported increased vampire presence in the city center.
And Falkenstein…
Erik stared at the email from Mr. Bachmann, the old man from the village near the castle. He had obtained Erik’s contact details from the Nightwatch archives.
Mr. Schönwaldt,
The castle is no longer abandoned. For three months now, there have been… things living there. We hear them at night. We see lights in the windows. Some people from the village have disappeared—three so far. The police find no traces.
I advise you not to come. Whatever is there is worse than before.
God protect you.
H. Bachmann
Erik leaned back. Worse than before. Worse than the vampire who had imprisoned his great-grandparents. Worse than Clara.
You shouldn’t go, the voices whispered. This is suicide.
“Maybe,” Erik murmured. “But the alternative is worse.”
He wrote a short reply to Bachmann, thanking him for the warning and assuring him he would be careful. What else was he supposed to say?
At noon, Erik briefly left headquarters to procure weapons. Not from the official Nightwatch arsenal—the best weapons were obtained elsewhere.
He drove to the south of Munich, to an industrial district inhabited at night by the homeless and drug addicts. During the day it was empty, abandoned. Perfect for discreet business.
The workshop lay behind a decaying factory, disguised as an auto repair shop. But the cars repaired here were not the main business.
Erik parked, went to the back door, and knocked three times.
“Who’s there?” A rough voice crackled through a speaker.
“Erik Schönwaldt. Helena sent me.”
A pause. Then: “Helena is dead.”
“I know. I’m her successor.”
The door opened. A man stood there who looked like a biker—tall, broad, tattoos covering both arms, a thick beard. But his eyes were sharp, alert.
“Gunther,” Erik greeted him.
“Schönwaldt.” Gunther stepped aside. “Come in. Quickly.”
Erik entered. The workshop was larger than it appeared from outside. Workbenches lined the walls, covered with tools, metal parts, and… weapons. Many weapons.
Pistols, rifles, crossbows, knives. Some looked ordinary. Others were clearly modified—silver ammunition, blessed tips, UV lamps.
“What do you need?” Gunther asked, moving to one of the benches.
“I’m traveling to Vienna and the Black Forest. I might encounter older vampires.” Erik looked around. “Something portable, but effective.”
“Older? How old?”
“Centuries. Maybe more.”
Gunther whistled softly. “Big league, huh?” He opened a cabinet and took something out. “Then you’ll need this.”
He placed three items on the workbench.
First: a pistol. Smaller than a standard handgun, almost like a toy. But the metal gleamed silver, and runes were engraved along the slide.
“Modified Glock 19. Silver bullets, blessed by a priest in Rome. Fifteen rounds. Stops anything up to five hundred years old.” Gunther patted the weapon affectionately. “And you’ll need more firepower.”
Second: a knife. Long, slender, the blade made of a material Erik couldn’t identify. Not steel. Something darker.
“Obsidian blade, forged with vampire ash. Cuts through almost anything. And if it hits the heart…” Gunther made a splitting gesture. “Instant death. No coming back.”
Third: a small device, no bigger than a lighter, with a button on the side.
“UV grenade. Latest model. Press the button, throw it, take cover. Three seconds later—boom. UV light strong enough to turn a vampire to ash. Radius: ten meters.”
“How many do you have?”
“Four grenades.” Gunther pulled them from a drawer. “That’s all I can spare. These things are expensive to make.”
“I’ll take all of them.” Erik reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. Cash. The Nightwatch paid well, and Erik had learned to always keep reserves.
Gunther counted the money, nodded approvingly. “Pleasure doing business.” He packed the weapons into an inconspicuous sports bag. “And Schönwaldt?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful out there. Helena was a good customer. Would be a shame if her successor died after six months.”
“I’ll do my best.” Erik took the bag. “If I come back, I might need heavier equipment. For the summer solstice.”
Gunther’s expression darkened. “I’ve heard rumors. About Katalin. About a major ritual.”
“The rumors are true.”
“Then start saving now. What you’ll need to fight her…” He shook his head. “Won’t be cheap.”
“Money isn’t the problem. Saving lives is priceless.”
“Well said. Helena would’ve liked that.” Gunther led him to the door. “Go with God, Schönwaldt. Or whatever you believe in.”
Erik left the workshop, the bag under his arm. The sky had darkened—thick gray clouds hung low. It would snow again soon.
He drove back to headquarters and parked in the hidden garage beneath the building. As he stepped out, someone was waiting.
James.
He stood in the shadows, hands in his pockets, face pale.
“Erik,” he said quietly. “Can we talk?”
“Of course.” Erik locked the car. “What’s going on?”
“I… I don’t know if I can do this. The trip. Vienna, Falkenstein.” James’s voice trembled. “Since… since what happened to my daughter, I can’t fight anymore. Every time I see a vampire, I remember…”
“Her. In Katalin’s hands.” Erik nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you?” James looked up, his eyes red as if he’d been crying. “Do you know what it’s like to see your child suffer? To know you couldn’t protect her?”
Erik thought of Lukas. Of the other babies. Of all the people he hadn’t saved.
“Not exactly,” he admitted. “But I know what it’s like to fail. To watch people die when you should’ve saved them.”
“And how do you live with it?”
“By fighting on. By trying to be better next time.” Erik placed a hand on James’s shoulder. “James, I’m not taking you with me to torture you. I’m taking you because I believe you need to heal. And sometimes you only heal by facing what broke you.”
“And if it breaks me even more?”
“Then you won’t be alone. I’ll be there. Kenji will be there. We won’t let you fall.”
James was silent for a long time. Then, slowly, he nodded. “All right. I’ll come. But I can’t promise anything.”
“You don’t have to. Just come. The rest will work itself out.” Erik lifted the bag. “Have you packed?”
“Not yet.”
“Then do it. We fly at six. Be here at five.”
James nodded and left. Erik watched him go, feeling a mix of hope and fear. James was a good man, a good hunter. But he was broken. And broken people were unpredictable.
You’re risking too much, the voices whispered. He’ll abandon you. Or worse.
“Maybe,” Erik murmured. “But Helena would’ve tried. So will I.”
He headed upstairs toward his office—but before he reached the stairs, he heard something. Voices. Agitated voices. From the conference room.
Erik quickened his pace.
Inside the conference room, the entire team was gathered. Marcus, Yuki, Kenji, Sarah. And on the main monitor—a news channel.
“What’s going on?” Erik asked.
“That,” Marcus said, pointing at the screen.
The news anchor looked grave. Behind him, a breaking news banner.
“…another mysterious incident in downtown Munich. Eyewitnesses report strange phenomena around the Frauenkirche around midnight. Lights in the sky, unexplained noises, and several people who lost consciousness.”
The camera cut to footage from Marienplatz. Police cars, ambulances. And people being carried away on stretchers, pale, eyes closed.
“How many?” Erik asked.
“Seven,” Yuki replied. “All found in a circle around the Frauenkirche. All with the same symptoms: extreme exhaustion, memory loss, and…” She hesitated. “Bite marks on the neck.”
“Damn it.” Erik moved closer to the screen. “That was a ritual.”
“At the winter solstice,” Kenji said. “A marking ritual. To activate the ley lines.”
“Exactly.” Yuki typed on her laptop. A map of Munich appeared on a second monitor. Seven points glowed red around the Frauenkirche. “The victims were found at these exact points. The same points Katalin needs for the summer solstice ritual.”
“She’s preparing,” Marcus said. “Marking the city. Getting it ready for the main ritual.”
“But that’s in six months,” Sarah frowned. “Why so early?”
“Because rituals like this take time.” Thomas’s voice—no, not Thomas. He was dead. But Erik remembered his words from months of training. “You can’t just show up at the summer solstice and perform a ritual. You have to prepare the locations. Build the energy. Weaken the barriers.”
“And she’s doing that now,” Erik said. “While we chase Vienna.”
“You think it’s a distraction?” Yuki asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe both. The keys matter—but so does the preparation.” Erik studied the map. “Yuki, can you monitor these locations? Twenty-four seven?”
“I can install cameras. ARIA can watch them.” Yuki took notes. “But if Katalin strikes again, if she needs more victims…”
“Then another team intervenes.” Erik turned to Sarah. “You’re in command. Marcus supports you, but you make the field decisions.”
“Me?” Sarah looked startled. “I’ve only been here six months.”
“And you’re one of the best. Former police officer, combat training, quick thinker.” Erik smiled. “Helena would’ve chosen you. I choose you.”
Sarah nodded slowly, pride and fear mingling in her expression. “All right. I won’t let you down.”
“I know.” Erik glanced at the clock. 1:37 p.m. “Damn it. I have an appointment. Anna is bringing Lukas.”
“Today?” Yuki looked up. “Erik, with everything going on—”
“A two-year-old child is still important.” Erik headed for the door. “Marcus, Sarah, prepare a protection team. Three people, night shift, monitoring the marked locations. Kenji, pack for tomorrow. Yuki, install the cameras.”
“And you?” Marcus asked.
“I’m dealing with a child who might be possessed by darkness.” Erik opened the door. “Just another Wednesday.”
Anna Berger arrived punctually at two p.m.
Erik met her at the front door of the bookstore, normally closed to visitors. Anna looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail.
In her arms: Lukas. A small boy with brown curls and large, curious eyes. He looked healthy. Normal. A perfectly ordinary two-year-old.
But Erik could feel something. A coldness radiating from the child. Not strong, barely perceptible—but there.
“Thank you for coming,” Erik said, leading her inside.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Anna replied, tense. “Last night he said… things again. In his sleep. Words I don’t understand.”
“Do you remember any of them?”
Anna hesitated. Then: “Kath’arn. Over and over. Kath’arn.”
Katalin. The child was speaking Katalin’s name.
A chill ran through Erik. “Come with me. We have a special room for… examinations.”
He led her through the bookstore, downstairs, through the security locks. Anna’s eyes widened at the hidden technology, the concealed rooms.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“The Nightwatch headquarters. Our main base.” Erik guided her to a smaller room on the third level. “In here.”
The room was white, sterile, with an examination table in the center. Medical equipment lined the walls—but also other things. Crystals, incense, ancient texts.
Kenji was already waiting, wearing his monk’s robes, a prayer chain in his hand.
“This is Kenji,” Erik introduced him. “He’s a… specialist in spiritual cleansing.”
“Mrs. Berger.” Kenji bowed slightly. “Please, sit down. I will examine Lukas.”
Anna sat, holding Lukas tightly. The boy looked around curiously, reaching for anything that gleamed.
Kenji knelt in front of him. “Hello, Lukas. I’m Kenji. May I look at you?”
Lukas studied him with wide eyes. Then nodded.
Kenji began the examination. At first, normal—pulse, breathing, reflexes. Everything seemed fine.
Then he took out a small bowl, filled it with water, murmured something over it. Holy water, Erik realized.
Kenji dipped his fingers in and touched Lukas’s forehead.
The boy recoiled and began to cry.
“Mommy!” He clung to Anna.
“What did you do?” Anna stood up protectively.
“Nothing painful, I promise.” Kenji looked at Erik. “But it’s as I feared. There’s still something in him. A fragment. Very small, but present.”
“A fragment of what?”
“The vampire essence. From the one who originally bit him.” Kenji wiped away the water. “The ritual removed most of it, but not all. A small piece survived, hidden deep within his soul.”
“What does that mean?” Anna’s voice trembled. “Will he… will he turn?”
“No. Not on his own. The fragment is too small.” Kenji stood. “But it is a connection. A door. And if someone opens that door from the other side…”
“Then they can reach Lukas,” Erik finished. “Influence him. Speak through him.”
“Exactly.”
Anna’s face had gone ashen. “Who would do that? Who wants my son?”
Erik and Kenji exchanged a glance.
“Valentina,” Erik said quietly. “The vampire who bit him. She’s still out there. With Katalin.”
“And she’s using the connection,” Kenji added. “To speak through Lukas. To see what he sees. Perhaps even to gather information.”
“This is…” Anna sank back down, clutching Lukas. “This is a nightmare.”
“Can we remove it?” Erik asked. “The fragment?”
“Yes. But it requires a ritual. Stronger than the last one. And…” Kenji hesitated. “It could be painful. For Lukas.”
“I don’t want him to suffer.” Tears filled Anna’s eyes. “He’s been through enough.”
“I know. But if we don’t remove the fragment, Valentina will keep using him. Keep exploiting him.” Erik knelt in front of Anna. “And at the summer solstice, when Katalin performs her ritual… the fragment could be activated. Lukas could become part of the ritual. Whether he wants to or not.”
Anna swallowed. “How much time do we have?”
“For the ritual? I can perform it in a week,” Kenji said. “I need time to prepare, to gather the proper materials.”
“But I won’t be here.” Erik stood. “I’m traveling to Vienna and Falkenstein. Three, maybe four days.”
“Then I’ll do it when you return,” Kenji said to Anna. “Until then—keep Lukas away from large crowds. From dark places. And if he says those words again, those foreign words, write them down. They could be important.”
Anna nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you. Thank you for helping.”
“It’s what we do,” Erik said, escorting them to the door. “We protect. No matter what.”
Outside, it had begun to snow—large, thick flakes covering the city in white.
Anna hesitated at the threshold. “Erik… be careful. Whatever is in Vienna and Falkenstein… come back. Lukas needs you.”
“I’ll come back.” Erik smiled, though he didn’t feel it. “I promise.”
Anna nodded and left, Lukas held tightly in her arms. Erik watched them until they vanished into the snowfall.
You can’t promise what you can’t control, the voices whispered. You could die in Vienna. In Falkenstein. In Munich. Death waits everywhere.
“Then I’ll wait too,” Erik murmured, and closed the door.
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind.
Sarah and Marcus organized the protection teams. Three groups, two people each, monitoring the marked locations. They were armed with weapons, UV lamps, and direct communication to headquarters.
Yuki installed cameras—small, hidden devices, nearly invisible. Within hours, she had built a network covering the entire city center.
And Erik packed. Clothes for three days, weapons, the Soul Key. And something he almost forgot—an old photograph. Of him, Helena, Marcus, Thomas, and the others. Taken six months ago, shortly after the battle at Odeonsplatz.
They weren’t smiling. But they were alive. And that mattered.
Erik slipped the photo into his bag, a talisman against the darkness.
At midnight, everything was ready. Erik stood at the window of his office, looking out over the snow-covered city.
Somewhere out there, at seven locations, Katalin’s markings pulsed with dark energy, preparing the way for the great ritual.
And in six hours, Erik would fly to Vienna. Into a trap—or toward a real key. He didn’t know.
But he would find out.
You will fail, the voices whispered. Like all before you.
“Maybe,” Erik said aloud. “But not today.”
He left the office and went downstairs to the sleeping quarters the headquarters kept for long nights.
He needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.
But when he lay down, sleep did not come. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, listening to the voices in the key, listening to the whispering of the city.
And deep beneath the earth, in her throne room, Katalin smiled.
“Sleep well, Erik Schönwaldt,” she whispered into the darkness. “Because tomorrow marks your end.”
Dimitri, standing beside her, looked up. “The traps are ready?”
“Ready and waiting.” Katalin touched the two keys on her altar. “In Vienna he will find only death. In Falkenstein he will find despair. And if he returns—if he returns at all—he will be broken.”
“And if not?”
“Then he’ll be dead. Which also works.” Katalin rose and walked to a large map on the wall—Munich, with seven marked locations glowing red. “Prepare the next phase. In four weeks, at the January new moon, we perform the second amplification ritual.”
“Seven victims again?”
“No. Fourteen. Twice as many.” Katalin’s finger traced the map, point to point, like a spider across its web. “Each ritual charges the locations. Strengthens the connection to the ley lines. At the winter solstice we laid the foundation. At the new moon we double the power. Then every month again. January, February, March, April, May.”
“Five rituals until the summer solstice.”
“Six, if you count the winter solstice.” Katalin turned to Dimitri, her eyes glowing in the candlelight. “Six months. Six rituals. With each one, the barrier between our world and the Other grows thinner. Until on June 21st it is as thin as silk. Then the three keys will tear it apart like… well, like paper.”
“And the Nightwatch?” Dimitri asked. “They will try to stop the next rituals.”
“Let them try.” Katalin returned to her throne. “They cannot protect all seven locations at once. Not every month. Not for six months. Somewhere, sometime, we will break through. And if they lose one location—just one…” She smiled coldly. “The entire structure collapses.”
“And Erik?”
“Will already be in Vienna during the next ritual. Or dead. Or on his way to Falkenstein.” Katalin leaned back. “Either way, he won’t be here to protect Munich. And that’s all that matters.”
“Until the summer solstice.”
“Exactly. Then, when the sun shines the longest, we will extinguish it forever.” Katalin settled back onto her throne. “Six months. Six rituals. And at the end—the eternal night.”
Dimitri bowed and left to make preparations.
Katalin remained alone, surrounded by darkness and candlelight.
Outside, the snow continued to fall. The city slept, unaware.
The winter solstice was over. The first ritual complete.
But it was only the beginning.
Five more rituals awaited.
Five more months until the summer solstice.
And then—the eternal night.