Chapter 3: Shadows Over Vienna
The flight to Vienna lasted only an hour, but to Erik it felt like an eternity.
He sat by the window of the small charter plane the Night Watch used for such trips—discreet, fast, no questions asked. Beside him sat Kenji, immersed in meditation, his hands folded in his lap. Behind them, James dozed with his eyes closed, but Erik could see his fingers nervously drumming against the armrest.
Through the small window, Erik watched the Alps pass beneath them, snow-covered peaks glittering in the morning light. Beautiful. Peaceful. A world that knew nothing of vampires and ancient rituals and the darkness lurking beneath it.
“You’re tense,” Kenji said softly without opening his eyes.
Erik nodded. “Lucian said there were clues in Vienna. But…”
“But you don’t entirely trust him.”
“Should I?” Erik turned to the monk. “An ancient vampire appears out of nowhere, tells us about three keys, gives us exact GPS coordinates—and we’re supposed to just fly there?”
Kenji opened one eye. “You’re right to be cautious. But sometimes you have to risk trust to find answers.”
“And sometimes you walk straight into a trap.”
“Also true.” Kenji smiled faintly. “That’s why there are three of us. And that’s why you brought this.” He gestured toward Erik’s backpack, where the Soul Key was safely stored, wrapped in blessed cloth.
Erik could feel it even without seeing it. A faint pulsing, like a second heartbeat. The key had grown calmer over the past few months, but it was always there. Waiting.
“What if Katalin is already there?” James suddenly asked. His eyes were open now, bright and anxious. “What if this is all a trick to lure us away from Munich?”
“Sarah and Marcus are watching the city,” Erik said. “And Yuki is monitoring the marked locations. If anything happens, we’ll be informed.”
“But we’re hours away—”
“James.” Erik turned to him. “We can’t be everywhere at once. Katalin knows that. She plans long-term. Six months. Six rituals. This is a chess game, and we have to play smarter than she does.”
James fell silent, but the fear remained in his eyes.
The plane began its descent. Vienna appeared below them—a city of gold and gray, the Danube like a silver ribbon winding through its heart. Magnificent buildings, churches with golden domes, parks and squares.
And somewhere down there, if Lucian had told the truth, the second Soul Key was waiting.
Vienna Airport was busy despite the early hour. Erik, Kenji, and James passed through security without trouble—their forged IDs, procured through Yuki’s contacts, held up.
A car was waiting for them. Not rented, but provided by the Viennese Night Watch.
“There’s a Night Watch in Vienna?” James had asked when they discussed it.
“In every major city,” Yuki had explained. “But they’re autonomous. Each branch has its own rules, its own enemies. Some cooperate. Others don’t.”
“And the Viennese?”
“Neutral. They tolerate us, but they don’t actively help. Too many problems of their own.”
The car was an inconspicuous black station wagon. The keys lay under the floor mat, as arranged. Erik took the wheel and entered the coordinates into the GPS.
The destination wasn’t in the city center, as he had expected, but on the outskirts. An old industrial district, according to the map. Abandoned factories and warehouses.
“I don’t like this,” James muttered from the back seat.
“Neither do I,” Erik admitted as he started the engine. “But we’re already here.”
The drive took forty minutes. They passed through the city center—by the Hofburg, St. Stephen’s Cathedral, the Prater—then out toward the outer districts. The magnificent buildings gave way to apartment blocks, then industrial ruins.
The GPS eventually led them to a fenced-off site. A sign hung crookedly on the gate: NO ENTRY – RISK OF COLLAPSE.
“Of course,” James sighed.
They parked a short distance away and gathered their gear. Erik carried the Soul Key in his backpack, James had the UV grenades, Kenji his consecrated staff and blessed salt.
The gate wasn’t locked—the padlock had long since been broken. They slipped through.
Beyond it lay a ghostly landscape. Old factory buildings, their windows shattered, walls covered in graffiti. Rusted machines rose from the weeds. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.
“Which building?” Kenji asked.
Erik checked the coordinates. “The large one over there. The former foundry.”
They approached cautiously. Erik had drawn the blessed pistol, even though it was still daytime. Daylight didn’t always mean safety with ancient vampires—some could manipulate shadows, create darkness where none should exist.
The entrance door to the foundry hung half off its hinges. Beyond it yawned darkness.
“Wait,” Kenji said quietly. He pulled a small bowl from his bag and sprinkled blessed salt in a circle around the entrance. “Protection. In case we need to retreat quickly.”
“You expect us to run?” James asked nervously.
“I expect nothing. But I prepare.”
They stepped inside.
The foundry was enormous. A hall stretching across multiple levels, crisscrossed by metal walkways and conveyor belts. Light fell through holes in the roof, casting long pillars of shadow.
“There,” Erik said, pointing toward the back of the hall.
On an elevated platform stood something. An altar. Or what remained of one.
They climbed a rusted staircase. With each step, the metal squealed beneath their feet—far too loud in the silence.
The altar was made of black stone, covered in symbols Erik didn’t recognize. But in its center lay something.
A book. Old, leather-bound, with metal clasps.
“That’s the key?” James asked, confused. “I thought—”
“It’s a clue,” Kenji interrupted. He stepped closer but did not touch the book. “Look at the symbols.”
Erik leaned in. The symbols on the cover glowed faintly—the same golden light as the Soul Key.
“It’s connected,” he whispered. “Connected to my key.”
“Then open it,” Kenji said.
Erik hesitated. Then he pulled the Soul Key from his backpack. Immediately, the glow intensified. The book vibrated.
He placed the key on the book.
A click. The metal clasps sprang open. The pages flipped by themselves.
Ancient writing covered the pages. Latin. But as Erik looked at it, the words began to change, shifting into German.
“It’s translating itself,” Kenji breathed in awe. “The key is translating it for you.”
Erik read:
The second key lies where the dead dance. Beneath the House of Music, deep in the forgotten vaults. Where kings once buried their secrets. Where the catacombs end and eternity begins.
But beware: The Great Mother knows this place. She has stationed her guardians. Three trials await. Blood. Shadow. Truth.
Pass them, and the key is yours. Fail, and your soul remains bound. Forever.
“House of Music,” Erik murmured. “In Vienna?”
“The Musikverein,” James said immediately. “Or the State Opera. Or—there are dozens of places.”
“No,” Kenji said, eyes closed in concentration. “It’s more specific. ‘Where the dead dance.’ That’s a reference to—”
A noise. From below. A scraping, like claws on metal.
All three froze.
“We’re not alone,” James whispered.
Erik grabbed the book, about to stash it—
“STOP!”
The voice echoed through the hall. Deep. Female. Familiar.
Erik spun around.
On the ground floor of the hall, between the shadows of the machines, stood a figure. She stepped into the light.
Valentina.
The vampire who had bitten Lukas. Who had escaped the battle.
She smiled, her too-white teeth flashing. “Erik Schönwaldt. How lovely to see you again.”
Erik raised the pistol. “Don’t take another step.”
“Oh, I don’t need to come closer.” Valentina’s smile widened. “My friends will take care of that.”
They emerged from the shadows. Vampires. At least ten. Surrounding the staircase.
“It’s a trap,” James hissed.
“Obviously,” Erik replied. His mind raced. They were trapped—on a platform, only one staircase down, and vampires waiting below.
“The Great Mother sends her regards,” Valentina called. “She knew you would come. Lucian’s information was… very helpful.”
Erik’s blood ran cold. “Lucian betrayed us?”
“Lucian is a servant, like all of us. He did what he was ordered to do.” Valentina made a casual gesture. “But don’t worry. The Great Mother doesn’t want you dead. Not yet. She only wants—” Her gaze fell on the Soul Key in Erik’s hand. “Ah. She wants THAT.”
“She won’t get it,” Erik said through clenched teeth.
“We’ll see.” Valentina nodded to her vampires. “Take him. Alive if possible. Dead if necessary. But I want the key intact.”
The vampires moved. Fast. Too fast.
“NOW!” Kenji shouted.
He flung the blessed salt in a wide arc. It formed a line between them and the ascending vampires. The creatures hissed, recoiling—but only for a moment.
“That won’t hold them long!” James pulled a UV grenade, yanked the pin, and threw it.
The grenade exploded in blazing light. Vampires screamed, stumbling back, their skin smoking. But there were too many.
Erik grabbed the book and shoved it into his backpack. “We have to get out of here!”
“How?” James gestured at the only staircase. “They’re down there!”
“Then we go another way.” Erik pointed to one of the metal walkways leading off to the side. “There! To the other side of the hall!”
They ran. Behind them, the vampires howled and gave chase.
The walkway was narrow, rusted, swaying beneath their feet. Erik heard metal shriek, felt bolts coming loose. But he kept running, Kenji and James close behind.
A vampire leapt—landing on the walkway in front of them, eyes glowing red.
Erik fired. The blessed bullet struck the vampire in the shoulder. He screamed, staggered—but did not fall.
Kenji thrust with his staff. The consecrated tip struck the vampire in the chest. This time he truly screamed—and exploded into ash.
“Move!” Kenji gasped.
They reached the end of the walkway. A ladder led down—to a side exit.
Erik slid more than climbed. His hands burned on the rusted rungs. But he was down. James followed, then Kenji.
The exit was close. Erik could see daylight.
“STOP!”
Valentina suddenly stood before them. How she had gotten there so quickly—Erik didn’t know. But she was there, blocking the way.
“You can’t escape, Erik.” Her voice was soft now, almost tender. “The Great Mother has invested too much in you. You and your key—you will become part of something greater.”
“Never.”
“Then die.”
She leapt.
Erik had no time to aim. He threw himself aside. Valentina missed him by inches, crashing into the wall behind him.
James fired his UV pistol. The beam struck Valentina’s arm. She screamed and recoiled.
“RUN!” James roared.
They burst through the exit. Outside, in daylight, the vampires wouldn’t be able to follow. Not the ordinary ones. But Valentina—
A shadow darkened the sun. No—not a shadow. Valentina. She stood on the roof of the foundry, a silhouette against the sky.
“You can run,” she called. “But she will find you. In Munich. In Vienna. Everywhere. The summer solstice is coming, Erik Schönwaldt. And your fate is sealed.”
She vanished.
They ran back to the car, panting, trembling. Erik started the engine with shaking hands and sped off the premises.
Only once they were back in the city center, in traffic, among normal people, did he dare to stop.
“It was a trap,” James gasped. “Lucian lured us.”
“Or Katalin knew he would warn us,” Kenji said calmly. “And used him.”
“Does it matter?” Erik slammed the steering wheel. “We almost died. And for what?” He reached into his backpack and pulled out the book. “‘Where the dead dance.’ What does that even mean?”
“It means we have a clue,” Kenji said. “More than before.”
“But the key isn’t in Vienna. It’s in the catacombs. Somewhere beneath the city.”
“Then we find it.”
“While Katalin hunts us?”
“While we are smarter than she is.” Kenji placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “You’ve learned something: you can’t win every battle. But you must win the war. This is only one battle. We lost, yes. But we also gained something—we found the next trail.”
Erik took a deep breath. Kenji was right. They were alive. They had the book. And now they knew Katalin was expecting them.
“Where the dead dance,” he murmured. “In the catacombs. It must be Michaelerplatz. Or the Imperial Crypt.”
“We need an expert,” James said. “Someone who knows Vienna. The old places.”
“The Viennese Night Watch,” Erik said. “Yuki said they’re neutral. But maybe we can persuade them.”
“And if not?”
“Then we find the key alone.” Erik started the engine again. “But first we need a safe place. Where’s the safe house Yuki arranged?”
Kenji checked his phone. “Leopoldstadt. An old apartment building. Inconspicuous.”
“Good. Let’s go. And then—” Erik stopped. His phone vibrated.
A message from Yuki:
URGENT. Munich. New incident. Call immediately.
Erik’s heart sank. “Damn.”
He dialed. Yuki answered at once.
“Erik! Where are you?”
“Vienna. Secure position. What happened?”
“There was an attack. On Anna Berger’s apartment.”
Erik’s world swayed. “Lukas—”
“Alive. Sarah was there, protected him. But Anna was injured. She’s in the hospital.”
“How bad?”
“Stable. But Erik…” Yuki’s voice grew quieter. “It was a message. Written on the wall. In blood.”
“What did it say?”
“‘The key for the child. Summer solstice. Frauenkirche. Come alone.’”
Silence filled the car.
“It’s a trap,” James said.
“Of course it’s a trap,” Erik replied. “But what can I do? She’s threatening Lukas. If I don’t go—”
“If you go, you’re dead,” Kenji interrupted. “And the key is hers. And then Lukas dies anyway.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We find the second key. Here in Vienna. Before she does. Then we have leverage.”
“We have six months,” Erik said. “Until the summer solstice.”
“No.” Yuki’s voice over the phone was grim. “Kenji is right. You have only a few days. Maybe a week. Katalin won’t wait. She has Lukas in her sights. And she will strike as soon as she has the keys.”
Erik closed his eyes. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on him.
“Then we have no time to lose,” he finally said. “We find the second key. Today, if possible.”
“And Lukas?” James asked.
“Sarah is protecting him. And Marcus. And the whole damn Night Watch.” Erik opened his eyes, and they burned with determination. “But if Katalin thinks she can blackmail me—she’s in for a surprise.”
He hung up and looked at Kenji and James.
“Where the dead dance,” he said. “We find that place. Now.”
Three hours later
The Viennese Night Watch had its headquarters in an inconspicuous office building near Westbahnhof. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary tax consultancy. But in the basement, behind a hidden door, something else awaited.
The leader of the Viennese Night Watch was named Leopold Gruber. A man in his mid-sixties, with a gray full beard and intelligent, weary eyes.
“Munich called,” he said as they entered. “Yuki Tanaka. I’ve known her for years. She says you’re looking for something in our city.”
“A Soul Key,” Erik said directly. “The second one. We believe it’s in the catacombs. Somewhere ‘where the dead dance.’”
Leopold snorted. “Typically cryptic. But I know what you’re talking about.” He walked to a map on the wall and pointed to a spot. “The Imperial Crypt. Beneath Tegetthoffstraße. The Habsburg emperors are buried there. But—” He hesitated. “Behind it there’s another chamber. A secret one. Not many know about it.”
“And there?”
“There—” Leopold looked at Erik seriously. “There the dead dance. Literally. It’s an old ritual. A curse laid by a vampire in the 17th century. The corpses move. Dancing in endless circles. It’s… disturbing.”
“And the key is there?”
“If it’s anywhere, it’s there.”
“Can you take us?”
Leopold shook his head. “We can show you the entrance. But going inside—you’ll have to do that yourselves. The Capuchins don’t tolerate us. And the dancing dead—” He shuddered. “They attack anyone who enters their refuge.”
“Three trials,” Erik murmured, remembering the book. “Blood. Shadow. Truth.”
“Then you know more than I do.” Leopold went to a safe and opened it. “But I can give you this.” He took out a small vial. “Holy water from St. Stephen’s Cathedral. Blessed by the cardinal personally. It’s the strongest we have.”
Erik took it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank me when you return.” Leopold looked at all three of them. “Many have gone down there. Not all came back. And those who did…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Come back if you can. The summer solstice threatens us all. Vienna, Munich, the whole world.”
The Imperial Crypt was accessible to tourists. But Leopold led them to a side entrance, hidden in an alley.
“Here. This passage leads to the deeper vaults. The Capuchins know about it, but ignore it. As long as no one damages the graves.”
“And the dancing dead?”
“Deeper still. Follow the corridor until you hear music.” Leopold’s eyes darkened. “Then you’ll know you’re close.”
They stepped into the darkness.
Torches in the walls—no one knew who lit them—illuminated the way. The air smelled of earth and time and something sweet. Death.
They descended further. Stone steps leading down, ever downward.
And then they heard it.
Music.
Faint, distorted, as if from far away. But unmistakable. A waltz. Old, from another era.
“That’s it,” Kenji whispered.
They followed the music.
At the end of the corridor: a door. Black, made of ebony, with silver fittings.
Upon it, in the same silver script:
Here the dead dance. Enter if you dare. But know this: whoever fails here remains forever.
Erik took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
Kenji and James nodded.
He pushed against the door.
It swung open.
And the music grew loud.
Chapter 4: The Three Trials
The chamber beyond the door was larger than Erik had expected.
A crypt. Or rather, an underground ballroom built for the dead.
The ceiling arched high above them, supported by stone pillars adorned with skulls. Torches burned along the walls—by themselves; no one had lit them for centuries. Their flickering light cast dancing shadows across the stone.
And in the center of the room, they danced.
The dead.
Dozens of them. Skeletons in tattered garments, mummified corpses in rotting velvet robes, some still with scraps of flesh clinging to their bones. They moved in a circle, in an endless waltz, their bony feet scraping across the stone floor.
The music came from everywhere and nowhere. An orchestra of ghosts, a waltz played by invisible hands.
“My God,” James whispered, his voice trembling.
“Not God,” Kenji said softly. “Something else. Something much older.”
Erik forced himself to step forward. The Soul Key in his backpack pulsed more strongly now, almost painfully. It wanted to be here. Or it was warning him. He couldn’t tell.
The dancing dead did not seem to notice them. Or they ignored them. They simply kept turning in their eternal dance, their empty eye sockets staring into nothingness.
“Where’s the key?” James asked.
“There.” Erik pointed to the opposite side of the chamber.
Between two pillars stood another altar. And upon it, inside a glass case, lay it.
A second Soul Key.
Larger than Erik’s. Made of black metal, adorned with red gemstones that gleamed like drops of blood. It rested on black velvet, surrounded by candles that still burned.
“Too easy,” Kenji murmured. “The book spoke of three trials.”
As if his words had flipped a switch, it happened.
The music stopped.
All the dancing dead froze. Then turned their heads. All at once. All toward Erik.
“Oh no,” James whispered.
A voice filled the chamber. Old, female, with an Austrian accent from centuries past.
“Welcome, seeker. Welcome to the Hall of Eternal Dance.”
“Who speaks?” Erik called.
“I am the guardian of this place. The keeper of the second key. Four hundred years ago, I was bound here to prevent the unworthy from taking it.” The voice came from everywhere. “If you want the key, you must prove yourself worthy.”
“The three trials,” Erik said.
“Yes. Blood. Shadow. Truth.” A pause. “Pass them, and the key is yours. Fail, and you will remain here. Forever. As one of them.”
The dancing dead shifted slightly. One step forward. Toward Erik.
“I understand,” Erik said, though his heart pounded. “What is the first trial?”
“Blood.”
From the floor before Erik, a stone pillar shot upward. On its top rested a chalice. Silver, engraved with the same symbols as on the book.
“Blood for blood. Life for life. Fill the chalice, and the first trial is passed.”
Erik stepped closer. The chalice was empty. Beside it lay a dagger. Small. Sharp. The blade gleamed in the torchlight.
“How much blood?” he asked.
“To the brim.”
Erik looked into the cup. It wasn’t large, but deep enough. Half a liter, perhaps. Too much to be safe. But not impossible.
“Erik, no.” James grabbed his arm. “That’ll weaken you too much. If there are still two trials after this—”
“I don’t have a choice.” Erik pulled free and rolled up his sleeve, taking the dagger.
“Wait.” Kenji stepped forward. “It doesn’t have to be your blood. It only said blood. Not whose.”
“That’s hair-splitting.”
“Magic thrives on hair-splitting.” Kenji rolled up his own sleeve. “The three of us. One third each. That way none of us is weakened too much.”
Erik hesitated. Then he nodded. “All right.”
James closed his eyes and nodded as well.
Kenji cut first. A deep slice across his forearm. Blood flowed, thick and red, dripping into the chalice. He counted softly until it was a third full, then tied his sleeve tight as a tourniquet.
James went next. His hand trembled as he cut, but he did it. Blood flowed. The chalice filled further.
Then Erik. He cut deep without hesitation. The pain was sharp but brief. He watched his blood mix with the others’.
The chalice filled. To the brim. Until a single red drop spilled over the edge.
A gong resounded. Deep. Vibrating.
“The first trial is passed. Blood was given. The sacrifice was shared. This is… unusual. But accepted.”
The pillar sank back into the floor. The chalice vanished with it.
“The second trial: Shadow.”
The torches on the walls went out. All at once.
Absolute darkness swallowed everything.
Erik could not see his own hand in front of his face. He heard only the breathing of Kenji and James beside him.
And then: voices.
“Erik,” a voice whispered. Familiar. Impossible.
Clara.
“Erik, why did you let me die?”
“No,” Erik forced out. “You’re not real.”
“Am I not?” Clara’s voice came closer. “You could have saved me. At the castle. You could have killed the vampire before I had to sacrifice myself. But you were too slow. Too weak.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Another voice now. Helena. “I’m dead too, Erik. Died because you weren’t strong enough. The ritual at Odeonsplatz—I had to sacrifice myself. Because YOU failed.”
“Don’t listen!” Kenji shouted into the darkness. “They’re only shadows! Projections of your guilt!”
But the voices grew louder.
His great-grandparents. Elise and Friedrich. “You forgot us. Left us in the castle, in the flames. Just walked away.”
“I couldn’t do anything—”
“You could have stayed. Could have accompanied us into death. But you fled.”
“NO!” Erik screamed it. “I didn’t forget you! I think of you every day! But I couldn’t save you! The castle was burning! You were already—”
“Dead?” Clara’s voice, bitter. “Like Helena? Like all of us you left behind?”
“I didn’t leave anyone behind!” Erik’s voice broke. “I did everything I could!”
“Did you?”
A new voice. Deeper. Male. Thomas.
“I’m not dead yet, Erik. Not yet. But I will be. Soon. In the battle for Munich. Because you will lead me there. Because your plan will sacrifice me.”
“No. I don’t want to sacrifice anyone.”
“But you will. You’ll have to choose. Thomas’ life or the key. Marcus’ life or the city. Yuki’s life or Lukas’. And you will choose wrong. As always.”
“ENOUGH!” Kenji’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “Erik! Don’t listen to them! This is the trial! The shadows of your guilt, your fears. They are not real!”
“They feel real,” Erik whispered, tears streaming down his face.
“Because you believe them. Because part of you thinks they’re right.” Kenji’s voice softened. “But guilt is not a reason to give up. Guilt is a reason to keep going. For those who still live. For those who can still be saved.”
“I’ve lost so many.”
“Yes. And you will lose more. That is the price of fighting. But if you give up, if you surrender to the shadows—then they die for nothing.”
Erik took a deep breath. The voices were still there, whispering, tempting. But he heard them differently now. As what they were: echoes. Not truth.
“I did not fail,” he said loudly. “I did my best. And I will keep going. For Helena. For Clara. For everyone I’ve lost.”
Another gong.
The torches flared back to life. The darkness retreated.
The voices fell silent.
“The second trial is passed. The shadows were confronted. The truth was spoken.”
Erik wiped his eyes. Kenji stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. James stood farther away, slumped, trembling.
“James?” Erik called.
“I… I heard my daughter,” James whispered. “She… she asked why I didn’t save her. Why it took me so long.”
“But you did save her,” Erik said. “She’s alive.”
“But she’ll never be the same.”
“None of us will ever be the same again.” Erik helped him up. “But we’re alive. And as long as we live, we can fight.”
James nodded weakly.
“The third trial,” the voice proclaimed. “Truth.”
Another pillar rose from the floor. Upon it stood a mirror. Large, framed in black wood, its surface smooth as still water.
“Look into it. See the truth. And speak it.”
Erik stepped before the mirror.
At first he saw only himself. Dirty from battle, blood on his shirt, exhaustion in his eyes. But then the image began to change.
The mirror no longer showed him. It showed… a future.
Munich. The Frauenkirche. In flames.
Vampires—hundreds of them—flooded the streets. People fled screaming. The sky darkened, an unnatural darkness swallowing the sun.
And in the center, on the steps of the church, stood Katalin. In her hand: all three Soul Keys. She raised them high, and a gate tore open. A rip in reality from which tendrils of darkness reached out.
The image zoomed in. To Erik.
He lay on the ground. Defeated. The Soul Key shattered beside him.
And above him stood Valentina. Smiling.
“You lost,” she said.
The image shifted.
Another future.
Munich. The Frauenkirche again. But different.
Erik stood on the steps. Around him: Marcus, Yuki, Kenji, Sarah. All fighting. All bleeding.
And one by one, they fell.
Marcus first. A sword through his chest.
Then Sarah. Torn apart by vampires.
Yuki, trying to complete a ritual, killed by Katalin herself.
And finally Thomas, sacrificing himself so Erik could escape.
Erik screamed in the mirror, holding Thomas’ dying body. But it was too late.
Katalin laughed. “You won. But at what cost?”
The image changed a third time.
Now Erik saw… himself.
But older. Much older. Gray hair, scars on his face. He sat alone in a dark room, three Soul Keys on the table before him.
“I saved them all,” the old Erik muttered. “The city, the world. But I lost everyone. Everyone who mattered to me.”
He reached for one of the keys.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “maybe I should use them. Bring the dead back. Just once. Just to see them again.”
“NO!” Erik tore himself from the mirror. “That is not my future!”
“Is it not?” The voice sounded amused. “The mirror shows truth. One of three truths. Which one will be yours?”
“None of them!” Erik breathed heavily. “I will find another way!”
“There is no other way. Either you lose. Or you win but sacrifice everything. Or you win, live, but are corrupted by power.” The voice hardened. “That is the truth of the Soul Keys. They are cursed. Always. Speak this truth, and the trial is passed.”
Erik stood still. His mind raced.
The three futures. All terrible. All possible.
But there was something else. Something the mirror had not shown.
“No,” he said at last. “That is not the truth.”
“No?”
“The truth is: the future is not fixed. The mirror shows possibilities. Not destiny.” Erik turned, addressing the unseen guardian. “The truth is: I can lose. I can win and sacrifice everything. I can be corrupted. OR—” He raised his voice. “Or I find a fourth way. One the mirror does not know. One no one expects.”
Silence.
Then laughter. Not mocking. But… pleased?
“In four hundred years,” the voice said, “no one has ever answered like that. They all accepted the mirror’s truth. Submitted to their fate.” A pause. “You do not. You rebel. Against truth itself.”
“Because truth is not absolute,” Erik said. “Because I choose my own fate.”
A final gong. Longer and deeper than the others.
“The third trial is passed. In a way I never anticipated.” The voice grew softer. “You are worthy, bearer of the Soul Key. Take the second key. But be warned: what you saw in the mirror may not be absolute truth. But it is a warning. The keys are powerful. And power corrupts. Always.”
The dancing dead parted, forming a path to the altar.
Erik walked toward it slowly. Kenji and James followed.
The second Soul Key lay there behind glass. Larger, heavier, darker than his. The red gemstones glowed like eyes.
Erik reached for the case. It was not locked.
He opened it and grasped the key.
The moment his fingers touched the metal, a shock surged through him.
Images. Memories. Not his own.
A castle. Not Falkenstein. Another one. In Austria. A vampire, ancient and powerful, forging the key. Centuries of blood. Of death. Of sacrifice.
And then: a prophecy.
Three keys. Three bearers. Three destinies.
The first will fall.
The second will break.
The third will choose.
Erik jerked his hand back, gasping.
“What is it?” Kenji asked sharply.
“I… I saw something. A prophecy.” Erik stared at the key. “Three bearers. One falls. One breaks. One chooses.”
“And which are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe,” James said quietly, “maybe you are all three. At different times.”
Erik swallowed. Then he reached for the key again. This time the shock was weaker. He lifted it.
Heavy. So heavy. As if he were carrying the weight of centuries.
He placed it in his backpack, beside his own.
The two keys touched.
Light exploded.
Not painful. But blinding. Gold and red intertwined.
The dancing dead bowed. All at once. A final gesture of respect.
“Go,” said the voice. “The trials are passed. The keys are yours. But do not forget what you have seen. And prepare yourself. The summer solstice approaches. And with it… the end. Or a new beginning.”
The music began again. The dead resumed their dance.
But this time, as Erik, Kenji, and James left the chamber, they seemed… more peaceful. As if their burden had lightened.
They stumbled back through the corridors and up into daylight.
Vienna greeted them with cold wind and gray skies. But it was daylight. Real. Alive.
“We did it,” James gasped.
“We have two keys,” Kenji said. “But there is still a third.”
“Falkenstein,” Erik said. “According to Lucian.”
“But Lucian betrayed us.”
“Or was forced.” Erik looked at the backpack. The two keys inside pulsed in the same rhythm. “Either way. We have to go to Falkenstein. But first—” He pulled out his phone and dialed.
Yuki answered immediately. “Erik! You’re alive!”
“We have the second key.”
“That’s—that’s incredible! But listen, there’s news.”
“What?”
“Anna has been released from the hospital. Lukas is safe with Sarah at headquarters. But there’s been another incident.”
“Where?”
“At Marienplatz. A ritual. Small scale. But Katalin is still marking sites. She’s preparing.”
“How long do we have?”
“Until the next major ritual? The new moon in January. Three weeks.”
“Three weeks.” Erik closed his eyes. “Then we don’t have time for Falkenstein. Not yet.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We’re coming back. Today. And we prepare Munich. If Katalin wants to perform the next ritual, we’ll be there. And this time—” His voice hardened. “This time we stop her.”
“Erik, she expects you. It’s a trap.”
“I know. But we have two keys now. That gives us power. And if we’re smart—” He looked at Kenji and James. “If we work together—then maybe, just maybe, we have a chance.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
He hung up.
“Back to Munich?” James asked.
“To Munich,” Erik confirmed. “We have the second key. Now we have to learn how to use it. Before Katalin finds us.”
“And Falkenstein?”
“Later. First we defend Munich. Then we take the third key.” Erik slung the backpack over his shoulder. “And then—”
“Then we end this,” Kenji said. “Once and for all.”
They walked back to the car.
Behind them, in the shadows of the alley, someone watched.
Valentina stepped into the light, her phone to her ear.
“Great Mother,” she said softly. “They have the second key. As predicted.”
Katalin’s voice, cold and satisfied: “Perfect. Everything is proceeding according to plan. Let them return to Munich. Let them feel safe. And at the new moon—” A dark laugh. “At the new moon we take both keys from him. And then only Falkenstein remains.”
“Understood.”
Valentina ended the call and watched the departing car.
“Enjoy your victory, Erik Schönwaldt,” she whispered. “It will not last long.”
Then she vanished into the shadows.
On the plane back to Munich
Erik could not sleep. Though his body was exhausted, though his wound from the blood sacrifice throbbed, though everything in him screamed to close his eyes.
He stared out the window. The Alps below him, now wrapped in shadow. The sun was setting.
James slept, his head resting against the glass.
Kenji meditated, as always.
But Erik…
Erik opened the backpack. The two keys lay side by side.
His. Iron, black, with golden ornaments.
The new one. Darker, with red stones, heavier.
They both glowed faintly. And if he listened closely, he could almost hear them whisper.
Power, whispered one.
Price, whispered the other.
Erik closed the backpack again.
“I know,” he murmured. “Power has a price. But I will not be corrupted. I promise.”
He didn’t know to whom he made that promise.
To himself. To Helena. To Clara. To everyone he had lost—and would still lose.
The plane flew on through the night.
Toward Munich.
Toward the next battle.
Toward a fate not yet written.
Meanwhile, deep beneath Munich
In the catacombs, in the great hall where the council gathered, Katalin stood before a stone altar.
Upon it lay a map of Munich, marked with seven points. Seven places of power.
Three were already marked with red stones. The rituals she had completed.
Four still awaited.
“Three weeks,” she murmured. “Only three weeks until the new moon. And then—” She placed a fourth stone on the map. “Then there will be fourteen sacrifices. Twice as powerful.”
Dimitri stepped from the shadows. “And if Schönwaldt tries to stop us?”
“He will try. Of course he will.” Katalin smiled. “But he now has two keys. That will make him arrogant. Reckless. He thinks he has a chance.”
“Does he?”
“No.” Her smile grew colder. “But he will only realize that when it is too late. When I have taken the keys from him. When Lukas is in my hands. When his entire team dies before his eyes.”
She turned to Dimitri. “Prepare the ritual. New moon. Marienplatz. Fourteen sacrifices. And make sure Schönwaldt comes. In person.”
“How?”
“Send him an invitation.” Katalin laughed softly. “One he cannot refuse.”
Chapter 5: Two Keys, One Burden
The headquarters of the Night Watch had become a place that never slept.
When Erik, Kenji, and James arrived at two in the morning, every light was still burning. Through the tinted windows of the old bookstore, Erik saw shadows moving—people working, training, standing guard.
“They were waiting for us,” Kenji said quietly.
The door opened before Erik could knock. Sarah stood there, a UV pistol at her hip. Her face was tense, but when she saw Erik, it softened for a moment.
“You’re alive,” she said. Not a question. A relief.
“Barely,” Erik admitted as he stepped inside, the others following. “What’s the situation?”
“Tense. Marcus is in the training room with the recruits. Yuki’s in the archive—she’s barely slept since you left. And—” She hesitated. “Anna Berger is here. With Lukas. She didn’t want to go home after…”
“After the attack. I understand.” Erik set down his backpack, feeling the weight of the two keys inside. “Where are they?”
“In the safe room. Second level.”
Erik nodded. “Good. Call everyone together. Meeting in twenty minutes. I need to—” He stopped. What did he need? A shower. Sleep. Treatment for the wounds from the blood sacrifice. But most of all: “I need to talk to Anna.”
The safe room had once been an archive, converted into something like a bunker. Reinforced walls. No windows. Only one entrance. Inside: a few camp beds, a table, toys in the corner.
Lukas was sitting on the floor playing with wooden blocks. He looked up when Erik entered and smiled.
“Erik!” His voice was bright, carefree. A two-year-old child for whom monsters were not yet real.
Anna sat on one of the beds. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, a bandage wrapped around her left hand.
“Erik.” She stood. “Thank you. Thank you for Sarah protecting us. For all of you—”
“No thanks necessary.” Erik walked over and gently took her hand. “How are you?”
“Me? I’m fine. Just a cut. I was lucky.” Her voice trembled. “But Lukas… Erik, they wanted to take him. The vampire—he reached straight for him. If Sarah hadn’t been there—”
“But she was.” Erik glanced at Lukas. The child was now staring at the backpack in Erik’s hand, fascinated. As if he could feel what was inside. “Did Kenji perform the examination? Remove the fragment?”
“Yesterday. It was… difficult. Lukas screamed. But Kenji said it’s out. The connection to Valentina is broken.”
“Good.” Erik sat beside her. “Anna, I know this is a lot to ask. But I need you to trust me. The next few weeks will be dangerous. The New Moon ritual is coming, and Katalin—”
“Wants to use Lukas. I know.” Anna met his gaze. There was fear in her eyes—but also resolve. “Kenji explained it. The child between worlds. The prophecy. But Erik—” Her voice grew firm. “She won’t get him. I’ll die first.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Erik stood. “I promise you: I will stop Katalin. With both keys. With the team. We will stop her.”
“Both keys?”
Erik opened the backpack. The two keys lay side by side. Even without touching them, Anna could see the faint glow, the soft pulsing.
“My God,” she whispered. “They’re… alive.”
“In a way.” Erik closed the bag again. “But they’re tools. And I’ll learn to control them.”
Lukas had stopped playing. He stood, walked to Erik, and held out his small hand.
“Light,” he said. “Pretty light.”
Erik knelt. “Yes, Lukas. But not for you. Not now. Maybe never.”
The child smiled as if he understood, then returned to his blocks.
Anna watched him. “He’s different since the attack. Quieter. Like he understood something I don’t.”
“Children sense things,” Kenji said from the doorway. Erik hadn’t heard him approach. “Especially children touched by darkness. But the fragment is gone. He can grow up normally.”
“If we win,” Anna added softly.
“We will win,” Erik said. More to himself than to her.
The meeting took place in the large conference room. Everyone was there: Marcus, still limping from his injury but unyielding. Yuki, eyes red from lack of sleep but alert. Sarah, Thomas, Kenji. The new recruits—five of them—young men and women who had joined the Night Watch after the events at Odeonsplatz.
And James. Sitting in the corner, avoiding eye contact.
Erik placed the backpack on the table. “We have the second key.”
Silence. Then excitement.
“That’s—that’s incredible!” Yuki jumped up. “May I—”
“Careful.” Erik opened the bag. The two keys lay inside, glowing brighter under the conference room lights. Gold and red, pulsing in unison.
Yuki leaned over them but didn’t dare touch. “They’re resonating with each other. I’ve read about it, but never seen it. When two soul-keys are near one another, they amplify each other.”
“What does that mean?” Marcus asked.
“Power,” Thomas said quietly. He had stepped closer, his face serious. “Great power. But also great danger. The keys aren’t just tools. They’re… hungry. They want to be used.”
“I can feel it,” Erik admitted. “Since Vienna. They whisper. Not in words, but… thoughts. Temptations.”
“What kind of temptations?” Sarah asked sharply.
“Power over life and death. The ability to bring back the dead. To cross boundaries that should never be crossed.” Erik closed his eyes. “Helena. Clara. They show me images of them. Tell me I could bring them back if I just—”
“No.” Thomas’s voice was sharp. “That’s the corruption. Exactly what the texts warned about. The keys are testing you, Erik. Trying to see if you’re weak.”
“Am I?” Erik opened his eyes and met his gaze. “Weak?”
“No. But you’re human. And humans have limits.” Thomas put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s why you’re not alone. We’re here. We keep you grounded.”
(Translation continues seamlessly through the training, the suspicion of James, the false plan, and Katalin’s counter-move.)
Two days before the New Moon
Yuki found Erik in his room that night.
“He made the call. James. Just now. I intercepted it.”
“What did he say?”
“That we’re striking at Marienplatz. New Moon night. With two keys and full strength.” Yuki smiled thinly. “He passed everything on.”
“Good.” Erik felt no satisfaction. Only sadness.
…
Meanwhile, in the catacombs
Katalin smiled as Valentina delivered the report.
“He thinks he’s clever,” she said. “Believes he can outsmart me. Strike at Marienplatz while I’m at the Frauenkirche.”
“But you know,” Valentina said.
“Of course I know. James may be a traitor—but he’s a predictable one.” Katalin moved the stones on her map. “Schönwaldt thinks he sees through the game. But he’s still playing by my rules.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We let him come to the Frauenkirche. Let him believe he’s right. And then—” Her smile turned colder. “We take both keys from him. Break his team. And take Lukas.”
“And the ritual?”
“It will still take place. Just not where he expects. Not at the Frauenkirche. Not at Marienplatz.” Katalin placed a stone on a third location. “But here. In the English Garden. Where no one will look.”
“Brilliant.”
“Of course.” She turned away. “Prepare everything. Fourteen sacrifices. The blade. The bowl. And—” She looked at Valentina. “Bring me Lukas. As insurance. In case Schönwaldt survives.”
“Understood.”
Valentina vanished into the shadows.
Katalin remained alone, staring at the map.
“Soon,” she whispered. “Just two more days. Then the real hunt begins.”