"I know you killed me before," Dracula whispered, rising. "In another life. Another century. I know the Church wiped your memory so you wouldn’t drown in the guilt of all the monsters you used to call brothers."

But for the first time in centuries… he didn't mind.

Anna knelt beside the creature. "No," she whispered. "You’re free." At dawn, the Valerious curse broke. Anna’s ancestors appeared as shimmering ghosts on the cliffside, finally ascending to heaven. She smiled at Van Helsing, touched his scarred cheek, and said, "Thank you, Gabriel."

And somewhere in the Vatican, a cardinal lit a black candle and opened a new file.

"You’re still alive," he replied. "That means I’m on time."

A woman met him at the gate. Her name was Anna Valerious, and she carried a sword older than her family’s curse. Her clan had sworn an oath centuries ago: kill Dracula, or no Valerious would enter heaven.

Gabriel Van Helsing moved like a wolf through the stone corridors, his coat whispering against the walls. He didn’t need light. He had hunted in darkness for so long that the dark had become his ally. Behind him, the Order’s monks whispered prayers, but Van Helsing only listened for the click —the mechanical heartbeat of the creature the Church called "Mr. Hyde."

Dracula clapped his hands. From the shadows emerged three brides—beautiful, terrible, dressed in cobweb silk. And behind them, a colossal, shambling horror: the Frankenstein Monster, stitched together from the dead and re-animated by Dracula’s science, a silver key lodged in its neck.