Back in Moreni, not long after Vasile, Mihai, and Nicolae had set off for Darva?, Petru Albescu rose from bed, ate a meager meal, and left the manor house. He moved through the village, loudly asking different men if they would carve a Saint for him. Most looked frightened, and he quickly moved on from those who seemed too afraid to answer. It didn’t matter—his true purpose was to draw attention to himself, ensuring the villagers were too caught up in gossip to notice the absence of Vasile, Mihai, and Nicolae.

  Eventually, he found a peasant he had commissioned before, a man who still looked uneasy when Petru mentioned Saint George. Though reluctant, the peasant grudgingly agreed.

  _________________________________________________________________________________

  Vasile stood, looking around nervously. “We should go back. This isn’t right,” he admitted, his usual bravado faltering.

  Nicolae just stared between Vasile and Mihai, his mouth agape, saying nothing—but his fear was plain.

  Mihai swallowed hard but steadied himself. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, “but I want to go inside. We need to verify if this is the chapel. Does it still have the image on the floor?”

  Slowly, Vasile calmed, curiosity gnawing away at his hesitation. Nicolae, seeing the other two press forward, found a shred of courage and nodded. “Alright,” he said, his voice steadier than before. “Let’s have a look.”

  They moved cautiously, finding the wooden door of the building sealed shut by collapsed masonry. It was impossible to pry open, forcing them to search for another way in. As they circled the building, they found a break in the wall—a gap just large enough for them to squeeze through one by one.

  Inside, the air was heavy with dust and the scent of damp stone. They stood still for a moment, their breaths shallow, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. The open space was lined with additional smaller holes in its walls, allowing glimpses of the forest beyond. The silence inside was absolute, pressing in on them like a held breath.

  Vasile exhaled slowly, steadying himself before speaking. “We should try to clear some of the floor. It looks intact beneath all this dirt.”

  Mihai nodded; his voice measured. “If this really is the chapel, the floor should have an image—a dragon with its tail curled in a circle, just like Lord Albescu showed us.”

  Driven by a renewed sense of purpose, the three of them devised a simple method to clear away the dirt. Using their hands and whatever loose stones they could find, they carefully scraped at the thick layer of dust and debris. With each stroke, the image beneath began to emerge—first fragmented shapes, then the unmistakable form of scales.

  Vasile gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is it… the Chapel of the Order of the Dragon.”

  Excitement and unease mingled in the air as they took in the image now partially revealed before them—a dragon, its tail forming a perfect circle around itself, just as they had been told.

  Vasile frowned and glanced at Mihai. “So, what now?”

  Mihai took a steady breath, his eyes scanning the ruined chapel. “The drawing only said, ‘Look Here,’ in what should be the northwest corner. If the dragon’s head is meant to face north, then that means the northwest is over there.” He extended his arm and pointed toward a section of the chapel.

  Vasile tightened his grip on the stick he had been carrying since they entered the forest. Without hesitation, he strode toward the corner and began striking the floor with it.

  Nicolae furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”

  Mihai, already stepping forward, answered, “We need to see if there’s a hollow cavity beneath the floor.”

  Understanding now, Nicolae picked up his own stick, and soon, the three of them were rhythmically pounding on the stone tiles, the dull thud-thud of wood against rock echoing through the empty chapel. Dust stirred around their feet, but after several minutes, Mihai sighed.

  “I don’t think there’s anything under here.” He straightened, wiping his brow, then turned to the walls. “Maybe it’s not the floor…”

  He ran his hand along the rough stone, then tapped it experimentally with his stick, listening carefully. His movements slowed as he reached a large stone column built into the northwest wall. He tapped it again, and this time, a deep, ringing sound reverberated through the air—hollow.

  Nicolae’s eyes widened. “You found it!”

  The three of them turned toward the column, pressing their hands against the cool stone. Vasile rapped his knuckles against it, feeling the vibration.

  Vasile glanced at Nicolae. “Help me.”

  They moved to the corner where the column met the wall, bracing themselves. “Let’s push,” Vasile ordered.

  The two boys heaved against the stone with all their strength. At first, it resisted, but then—with a low groan—it slid outward far more easily than expected. Vasile and Nicolae stumbled forward, caught off guard by the sudden movement.

  Nicolae yelped as his foot slipped over empty air—beneath the displaced column, a gaping hole yawned open in the floor. He flailed, his arms windmilling, before Mihai lunged and caught him by the back of his shirt, yanking him backward just in time.

  Nicolae gasped, clutching his chest. “That was too close…”

  The three of them stood at the edge, peering down into the darkness below.

  Staring down into the opening, the three young men saw a steep flight of stone steps vanishing into inky blackness. No one spoke at first. Finally, Vasile took a breath and said, “I’ll go down and take a look.”

  Mihai grabbed his arm. “Be careful, brother.”

  Slowly, Vasile stepped onto the stairs, descending into the darkness. Nicolae called after him, “Can you see anything?”

  “Nothing,” Vasile replied. “Just—”

  Before he could finish, a sudden burst of light flared beneath him. He gasped audibly, his breath catching in his throat. Mihai, startled, called out, “Vasile! Are you alright?”

  For a moment, there was silence. Then Vasile’s voice echoed back, still laced with surprise. “A torch… it just burst into flames on its own! The whole room below is lit now.”

  “How is that possible?” Nicolae asked.

  Vasile hesitated. “I don’t know. It wasn’t touched. It just—”

  Mihai exhaled sharply, a single word escaping his lips. “Magic?”

  Vasile let the thought settle before murmuring, “Magic… hmm. I’m going to keep going.”

  Mihai and Nicolae listened as Vasile’s footsteps grew fainter. Then his voice rang out from below, urgent and filled with awe.

  “Come down here—you have to see this!”

  Both Mihai and Nicolae carefully descended the stone steps, their footsteps echoing softly in the enclosed space. When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a small rectangular chamber, its walls smooth and carved from solid rock. The air was cool and still, heavy with an eerie silence.

  Several torches hung from the walls, their flames an unnatural shade of ghostly blue, casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The chamber was unnervingly pristine, as if untouched by time.

  A twelve steps further, against the back wall, stood a massive stone statue of a coiled dragon. Its head was lowered, mouth slightly open in a silent snarl. Resting upon its tongue, as if placed there deliberately, was a milky-white stone about the size of a man’s palm. Its smooth, faceted surface shimmered faintly under the ethereal torchlight, an object that seemed both an offering and a warning.

  Mihai glanced around, frowning. “This place… it’s too clean. No dust, no cobwebs. It’s like someone’s been tending it.”

  Nicolae swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Magic?”

  The three young men exchanged looks, feeling some relief. Almost in unison, they nodded.

  “Magic.”

  Without a second thought for traps or danger—after all, they were just simple peasant boys—Mihai stepped forward, drawn to the strange jewel. He barely hesitated as he rose onto his toes and plucked the milky-white stone from the dragon’s tongue.

  For a moment, the chamber was silent. The boys stood still as Mihai gazed down at the jewel in his hands.

  He exhaled slowly, turning it over, feeling its smooth surface. Almost instantly, the pale stone began to shift—its glow pulsing as it cycled through the colors of the rainbow, each hue rippling like light dancing on water. Mihai’s eyes widened in awe.

  “Boys, we got it!” Mihai shouted, his voice breaking the hushed stillness. “The Star of Enoch!”

  Vasile and Nicolae rushed forward, their apprehension forgotten. Mihai handed the jewel to Vasile, who turned it over with reverence before passing it to Nicolae. Each of them stared, transfixed, as the stone pulsed and shimmered in their grasp, its colors shifting like liquid magic.

  For the first time since entering the ruined chapel, excitement overtook fear. They had found it—the Star of Enoch was real. And it was in their hands.

  “Give me the stone,” Vasile said, slinging his rucksack off his shoulders. He pulled out a small leather pouch, and Nicolae carefully placed the Star of Enoch inside. Vasile tightened the pouch’s drawstring before tucking it securely into his bag.

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  The three boys took a moment to drink from the water skins, the cool liquid soothing their dry throats. Mihai was the first to move, stepping toward the stairs and motioning for the others to follow. Without a word, they climbed back up, emerging once more into the chapel’s eerie stillness.

  The oppressive silence pressed down on them, heavier now that they carried something of true power.

  “Let’s get this closed again,” Vasile whispered to Nicolae. Together, they leaned against the column and pushed. The stone groaned as it slid back into place, sealing away the hidden chamber with a heavy, echoing thud.

  Mihai exhaled sharply. “Let’s go. It’s only about noon—we can be home soon.”

  Nicolae nodded, visibly relieved. “I can’t wait to leave this awful place.”

  Retrieving their heavy sticks, the three young men slipped back through the hole in the chapel wall, just as they had entered. Once outside and circling around, they instinctively veered west, their eyes scanning the treeline. Moving swiftly through the ruins they had passed earlier; they searched for the familiar path that would lead them home.

  Mihai suddenly froze in his tracks. Vasile and Nicolae skidded to a halt beside him.

  “What’s wrong?” Vasile whispered urgently.

  Mihai held up a hand. “Do you hear that?”

  Vasile frowned. “Hear what—?”

  “Listen!” Mihai hissed.

  The three young men stood still, straining their ears. At first, only the eerie silence of the ruined town greeted them. Then, faint but unmistakable, the sounds came—men shouting, the sharp crack of whips, and the deep, guttural barking of dogs.

  Not just any dogs.

  “Run!” Mihai gasped, turning on his heel.

  The three of them bolted eastward, darting past the chapel ruins. Their feet pounded the ground, kicking up dust and debris. But before they could gain distance, more shouting erupted ahead of them, joined by the same bloodthirsty howls. They skidded to a stop.

  Trapped.

  The barking grew closer, an ominous chorus of snarls and snapping jaws. These were Dracula’s mastiffs—massive, monstrous beasts bred to fight in battle, hunt and kill. Their hulking frames were covered in thick, matted fur as black as midnight, their muscled bodies rippling beneath it. Each beast had a mouth grotesquely large for its head, filled with jagged, yellow fangs that gleamed in the dim light. Their breath reeked of old blood and rotting flesh.

  Around their thick necks, heavy spiked collars gleamed dully, the iron barbs meant to protect them from blades and strangulation. Strapped across their backs was crude black armor—layers of overlapping iron plates, dented and scarred from past battles, protecting their vital areas from knives and arrows. The armor left their heads free to lunge and tear into their prey with terrifying ease.

  Rumors whispered that these mastiffs were not just trained killers but had developed a taste for human flesh, having been fed on it since they were pups. Some even said they craved it, driven to madness by their masters’ cruelty.

  Holding their chains were Dracula’s thralls—men clad in pitch-black tunics, their eyes cold and dead inside sunken sockets. These were not mere soldiers; they were torturers, trained by demons to be sadistic beyond reason. Each carried a whip coiled at their waist, a cruelly barbed flail in one hand, and their faces were twisted with pleasure at the chase.

  But worse still were the masters of these hunts.

  If demons were among them, there would be no escape.

  Undead creatures, neither man nor beast, but something in between—Dracula’s chosen. They could shift their forms, becoming wolves or bats or even mist. They had no need for hounds, for they could smell fear as keenly as any animal, and they fed not on flesh, but on blood.

  And now, they were coming.

  Mihai, Vasile, and Nicolae exchanged a single look, their fear raw and unspoken.

  They had to run.

  They dropped the sticks in their hands and fled to the north.

  The town of Darva? disappeared behind them, swallowed by the tangled, unknown forests beyond. The towering trees, gnarled and skeletal, loomed like silent witnesses to the hunt. Their twisted branches clawed at the fleeing boys, raking their arms, tearing at their clothes, but they felt none of it. Adrenaline surged through their veins, drowning out all but the pounding of their hearts and the desperate need to escape.

  Behind them, the hellish chorus of pursuit grew louder. The mastiffs howled, their deep, throaty barks carrying through the trees like the tolling of funeral bells. The thralls shouted in glee; their voices filled with cruel anticipation.

  "They go this way!"

  "We've got the three of them now!"

  A fresh wave of terror struck the boys like ice water. They knew. They knew there were three of them. They had expected them. But how? Had someone betrayed them? Had something been watching? No time to wonder—no time to do anything but run.

  Mihai, Vasile, and Nicolae crashed through the underbrush, heedless of the sharp branches whipping their faces and arms. The forest floor was a treacherous mess of exposed roots and fallen logs, threatening to trip them with every desperate stride. Their lungs burned as they gulped down air, their bodies screaming for relief, but they couldn’t stop. To stop meant death. Worse than death.

  The voices behind them were growing closer.

  "This is fun now, isn't it, boys?" a man jeered, his voice filled with sick amusement.

  Laughter followed—ugly, gleeful, inhuman.

  "It won't be long now, my lovelies," another cooed mockingly. "You must be fed!"

  Another: "Oh, how they run! Run, little rabbits! Run, run, run!"

  The mastiffs snarled, their chains rattling as their handlers struggled to contain their frenzy. The beasts knew their meal was near.

  The forest, endless and unknown, stretched ahead, offering no sanctuary, no clear escape. The only certainty was behind them—the slavering jaws of the mastiffs, the mocking voices of the thralls, and, somewhere among them, the unseen horror of whatever demons hunted alongside them.

  A rock wall and steep hill loomed ahead, jagged and uneven, but Vasile didn’t hesitate. “Follow me!” he commanded, his voice firm despite the terror tightening around them like a noose.

  Mihai and Nicolae didn’t question him. They pushed their exhausted bodies forward, lungs burning, legs screaming in protest as they climbed. The loose earth crumbled beneath their feet, sending rocks tumbling down the slope, but still, they ran—because to stop was to die.

  But then—Vasile spotted it. A narrow opening in the rock, nearly hidden by a tangle of dry brush and creeping ivy.

  A cave?

  Without missing a beat, Vasile yanked the rucksack from his back and threw it to Mihai. “Take it! Both of you—get inside, hide yourselves! Fortify it if you can.”

  Mihai caught the bag, his hands trembling. “No! Brother, no!” The weight of what was happening crashed down on him like a hammer. He knew—he knew—what Vasile was about to do.

  But Vasile was already moving.

  Without another word, he spun on his heels and plunged back down the hill, crashing through the underbrush, his voice ringing through the trees.

  “We must go this way to escape! Follow me if you want to live! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! They’re closing in!”

  His desperate cries faded as he ran, a single voice against the darkness. The thralls and their monstrous hounds did not hesitate—they took the bait. With the blood rushing in their ears, Mihai and Nicolae scrambled into the hidden cave. They pushed through the tangled brush and stumbled inside. The space within was larger than it appeared—tall enough to stand in, deep enough to swallow them in its blackness. The air was damp, thick with the scent of earth and old stone.

  They didn’t stop until they reached the farthest wall. Then, finally, they collapsed. Nicolae clutched at his chest, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gulps. His whole body trembled, drenched in sweat.

  Mihai curled into himself, his fingers digging into his scalp, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. His vision swam, tears hot against his cheeks.

  His voice was barely a whisper. “No, brother… no… not this way.”

  Outside, the hunt raged on. The baying of the mastiffs and the laughter of men faded away into the distance.

  Vasile was gone.

  And Mihai and Nicolae could do nothing, paralyzed by fear, swallowed by the darkness, praying they would not be next.

  The two boys huddled in the darkness; their minds blank with terror. There was no plan. No escape. No home. They had no idea how to get back to Darva?, and even if they did, would it matter? Their legs felt like lead, their chests ached from the sprint, and their thoughts were trapped in a whirlwind of exhaustion and fear.

  Time passed, though neither Mihai nor Nicolae could tell if it was minutes or hours. The only sounds in the cave were their ragged breaths and the echo of their pounding hearts.

  Then—the sound of padding feet outside.

  Both boys froze, their muscles coiling like a trapped animal's. A shadow shifted at the cave’s entrance.

  Then came the hoarse, panting voice. “It’s me… Vasile…”

  Relief crashed over them like a wave. In the next instant, Vasile stumbled into view, his body lurching forward before he collapsed face-first onto the cold cave floor.

  Mihai and Nicolae bolted from the back wall, falling to their knees beside him.

  “Brother!” Mihai gasped, shaking him.

  “Vasile! It is so good to see you!” Nicolae nearly sobbed.

  Vasile’s chest heaved, his breath coming in gasps, his body slick with sweat and streaked with dirt. He barely had the strength to lift his head, but through sheer willpower, he croaked, “We… we have to keep going… we must get home…”

  Mihai clutched his brother’s arm, his voice urgent. “Not yet. Just rest, only for a moment.”

  Vasile shook his head weakly. “No… no time… we have to move…”

  Then—laughter.

  Low, cruel, inhuman.

  It came from behind them—from the deepest part of the cave.

  A wave of cold washed over Mihai as the laughter deepened into a slow, guttural chuckle. He turned, his breath catching in his throat. Nicolae turned too, his hands trembling violently.

  There, in the suffocating darkness, two sets of blood-red eyes gleamed like embers.

  They stood impossibly tall, towering over the boys. Shadows slithered across the creatures’ unnatural forms, obscuring the details of their faces, but their silhouettes were wrong—hunched, shifting, with jagged, twisting limbs.

  Mihai’s mind reeled. Are those large men… or monstrous bats?

  Then they moved—a step forward, then another, creeping closer.

  A single shaft of dim light from the cave’s entrance illuminated the horrors. Their skin was stretched tight over sharp, angular bones, their mouths curled into delighted grins, revealing teeth far too long, far too sharp. Their shoulders hunched unnaturally, their arms too long, fingers tipped with curling, black claws.

  Nicolae choked on a scream, grabbing Mihai’s arm in terror.

  Move! Mihai’s mind screamed. MOVE!

  He grabbed Vasile—still gasping, barely able to stand—and the three boys scrambled toward the mouth of the cave.

  The laughter followed them.

  It did not stop. It only grew louder.

  Mihai didn’t dare look back as he dragged Vasile out into the daylight. His heart slammed against his ribs, his pulse roaring in his ears.

  Then—another voice.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Mihai’s head snapped forward.

  Three men stood at the top of the hill, blocking their path.

  Dracula’s thralls.

  Clad in black from head to toe, they looked down at the boys like cats watching trapped mice. The one in the center, tall and wiry, took a step closer. His eyes gleamed with sadistic amusement, and his thin lips stretched into a slow, deliberate smile.

  Behind them, now outside the cave, the vampires’ laughter echoed—low, mocking, relentless.

  The thralls barely spared them a glance before turning their attention back to the three young men.

  The man in black didn’t so much as flinch. He had expected this. He knew they were there.

  Mihai’s stomach twisted. They were surrounded.

  Vasile, still struggling to catch his breath, tried to push himself up but fell back onto his knees. Mihai and Nicolae collapsed beside him, their limbs locking in terror.

  No escape. No hope. No mercy.

  The grinning thrall tilted his head, his voice smooth, mocking. “That was so much fun. Thanks for walking the dogs with us.”

  The two monstrous figures behind them chuckled at the words, their glowing eyes unblinking.

  The thrall took another step forward, his voice dripping with cold amusement—the tone of a butcher addressing livestock, savoring their final moments.

  “You never stood a chance,” he said smoothly. “At any moment, we could have unleashed the dogs.”

  Mihai shuddered. The realization hit like a knife to the gut. They had never been running toward safety. They had only been led deeper into the trap.

  They had been hunted… for sport.

  The thrall’s grin widened, stretching almost too far, his teeth gleaming like polished ivory. “We’ve been waiting for you in Darva?. And now… you have something in your filthy hands that you should have never acquired.”

  Mihai’s fingers tightened around the rucksack at his side. The jewel.

  The thrall’s gaze flicked down to it, and his grin became something truly terrible.

  Slowly, he reached to his belt… and withdrew a whip.

  It uncoiled with a hiss, the leather cracking once against the ground.

  Nicolae let out a strangled cry, his breath hitching in terror. Mihai flinched, his entire body locking up, as if fear itself had sunk its claws into his spine.

  Vasile, still weak and gasping for air, clenched his teeth and forced himself to rise—but his legs trembled beneath him.

  The thrall chuckled, a slow, mocking sound.

  Behind them, the laughter of the vampires swelled, twisting into a guttural, inhuman roar that reverberated through the air like beasts on the verge of feeding.