Castlevania- Nocturne -

Annette had felt it first—a pulse of absolute zero radiating from the south. The Vampire Messiah, Erzsebet Báthory, had not just seized the night; she was devouring the concept of dawn itself. She was raising a fortress of frozen blood and screaming souls, and with every peasant she drained, another star winked out of existence.

The dhampir stepped out of the shadow of a cargo crane. He looked no older than he had during the fall of Wallachia three centuries ago. But his eyes—those ancient, amber eyes—held a new kind of exhaustion. The exhaustion of a machine that had been built to kill his father and had been forced to keep running, long after its purpose had faded.

The rain over the Boston wharf was a lie. Castlevania- Nocturne

The rain stopped. Not faded—stopped. Mid-drop, the water hung suspended in the air like frozen tears. The temperature plummeted. The candlelit windows in the town behind them went dark, one by one, as if a giant hand was snuffing them out.

Richter grinned—a sharp, desperate, stupidly brave grin. "No promises, vampire." Annette had felt it first—a pulse of absolute

He stood alone on the dock, the Morning Star coiled at his hip, heavy as a coiled serpent. Behind him, the city slept in terrified ignorance. A few candles flickered in windows. A dog barked somewhere in the dark. They didn't know that the sun was being unmade.

Alucard turned his head. For the first time, the mask of cold aristocracy cracked. Beneath it was something raw. "I know. I have outlived every friend I ever made. I will likely outlive you, too. And I am so tired of attending funerals for people who taught me how to feel." The dhampir stepped out of the shadow of a cargo crane

And the night screamed back.