Van Helsing - Miles And Miles ... -

The fog over the Transylvanian Alps didn't just hang; it clung, a heavy, wet shroud that tasted of pine resin and old iron. Gabriel Van Helsing adjusted the leather strap of his rotary crossbow, the gears clicking rhythmically against the silence of the pass.

Should we focus the next chapter on the or follow their desperate escape through the pass? Van Helsing - Miles and Miles ...

Van Helsing didn't look back. He was watching the way the mist swirled in the valley below. It wasn't moving with the wind; it was pulsing, like a slow, grey lung. He knew that rhythm. It was the breath of something ancient, something that didn't need to breathe at all. "We don't have three days," Van Helsing said. The fog over the Transylvanian Alps didn't just

"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running." Van Helsing didn't look back