A few hours earlier, in Nottingham, the night was quiet—too quiet.
The foul smell of blood lingered in the air. Abandoned cars stood frozen in the streets, buildings hollow and lifeless.
A woman slowly emerged from the darkness.
It was Raven. She was walking completely alone.
She noticed a nearby bar, abandoned and broken, and walked straight inside. The place reeked of rotten food and spoiled fruit, the stench so strong it made her cough. It was pitch-dark inside.
"The fuck," she muttered, heading toward the bar counter, searching for anything to drink.
She found a bottle of whiskey and opened it.
"Now you're talking," she said.
Just as she was about to take a sip, she heard a voice behind her.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you."
Raven froze. Shocked, she dropped the bottle, struggling to turn around. She didn't see anyone—the darkness swallowed the room—but she was certain she heard a voice. And it was a woman's.
"Who's there? Show yourself," she said, drawing her swords.
"You think your swords are strong enough to kill me?" the voice spoke again.
"Why don't you step out and find out for yourself?" Raven answered, gripping her swords tightly.
The woman laughed.
"I can sense your fear. I can smell the sweat on your skin. Don't try to be brave. Even if I show myself, you won't be able to do anything to me. I am stronger, faster, and smarter than you. I don't usually expose myself, but one thing I can assure you—I am not your enemy. I am not a vampire. I'm just a person trying to find her long-lost sister. That's all."
"If that's so, then what do you want from me? I am sure as hell that I am not your sister."Raven said.
"I know," the woman replied from the darkness.
"Then why aren't you showing yourself?" Raven challenged. "Are you scared, or just shy?"
Footsteps slowly approached from a dark corner. Raven's eyes narrowed as a woman stepped into the faint light. She was dressed like Scarlet. She carried two swords marked with wolf symbols—just like Scarlet's. Around her neck hung the same necklace.
"Who are you?" Raven asked as the woman came closer.
"My name is Nutaila." She offered her hand, but Raven refused.
"I don't shake hands with strangers."
"This stranger has saved your ass more times than you can count," Nutaila replied.
Raven laughed.
"Really now? You saved my ass? How? Since when?"
Nutaila smiled and stepped closer.
"Since the moment you stepped into Nottingham. You've been tailed the entire time—and you're terrible at covering your tracks."
"Really?" Raven said sarcastically. "And who dared to tail me?"
"Them," Nutaila said, tilting her head behind Raven.
Raven turned around.
Fifteen masked figures surrounded them. They weren't uniform, not organized like soldiers.
They were cultists.
Their masks were handmade—wood, bone, stitched leather. Symbols were scratched into them: spirals, inverted crosses, teeth, wolves. Their clothes were filthy, layered, scavenged from the dead. Some carried knives. Others held tools—hooks, chains, farming blades sharpened into instruments of cruelty.
Raven froze.
"How did they—" She turned to Nutaila. But She was long gone. Raven slowly drew her swords. The cultists stared at her in silence.
"If you come one by one, I might be able to take you." she said, preparing herself,
One of them stepped forward. It was a young girl—no older than Raven herself had once been.
"Come on, She's just a child. This isn't right."Raven said. The girl hurled an axe.
Raven ducked just in time. As she stood back up, the same girl struck her hard across the face. They were stronger. Faster. These people worshipped something beyond darkness.
They overpowered Raven, dragged her away into the night.
One of them—the tallest—was their leader. He sensed movement in a dark corner. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange powder.
"You think you're smart enough? We see everything. We know who you are—and who you're missing." he said.
He threw the powder into the darkness. Nutaila was exposed.
Her body froze as she collapsed to the ground, drugged, unable to move—even her eyes. The man walked toward her.
"You have something inside you. You were clever enough to overcome it, clever enough to use its power. But we want it. And there are others like you. We will find them all."
He lifted her and disappeared into the night
Minutes later, Raven slowly opened her eyes. Her vision returned piece by piece.
She was hanging upside down, tightly bound to a log.
"Not again," she growled. Turning her head, she saw Nutaila hanging beside her.
The ground beneath them was soaked in blood. The place was filthy—ritualistic. These were cult people. They performed sacrifices here. Often. Their leader stepped forward.
"You are awake, good."
"Believe me, the last person who hung me like this ended up dead—his head chopped clean off." Raven said coldly,
The man laughed.
"Well, you've met different people."
Nutaila coughed, slowly opening her eyes.
"What the hell is this? God, what's that smell?"she muttered.
"You are awake too. Welcome," the man said, turning to her.
"Who are you people?" Nutaila asked.
"We are The Vigil of the Hollow."
Nutaila's eyes widened. The man noticed.
"I know that look, You know who we are."he said.
"I do, I've read everything about you—and your Hollow King. You believe you are the caretakers of the ending. You don't rule the darkness—you prepare it. Your king lived long before Dracula, before vampires, before creatures of any kind. He is the source—where blood remembers time, where fractures form, where monsters evolve."Nutaila replied.
The man smiled.
"Then you must know, that we have the right to perform ritual sacrifices every night. And tonight, you and your friend will be the offering. No one is allowed to know this much about us."
He began chanting. His followers formed a circle, speaking a foreign, ancient ritual language.
"Hey—listen to me! She's not my friend. We didn't come together!"Raven shouted.
"Be quiet," Nutaila whispered.
"Are you insane? This is your fault!" Raven snapped.
The cultists' eyes turned white. All of them tilted their heads toward the sky. They sliced their hands, collecting their blood.
Raven's heart pounded. Two cultists dragged Raven and Nutaila into the ritual circle.
"Hey, I told you to shut up because I have a plan."Nutaila whispered.
"How can I trust you?" Raven asked.
Nutaila's eyes turned completely black—then normal again. Raven froze.
"You're like Milan," she said.
Nutaila hesitated.
"You can tell me later,When we get out of here."she said.
The ritual reached its peak. Blood pooled on the ground.Two cultists approached them with knives.
"When I give the signal, run like hell."Nutaila whispered,
"How will I know?"
"You will."
The cultists raised the log Nutaila was tied to, ready to strike.
Suddenly, her eyes filled with darkness. She ripped herself free from the bindings with inhuman strength.The leader reached for the powder. Nutaila was faster.
"You may have touched the darkness," she said, appearing in front of him,
"but I was created with it."
She kicked him hard in the face. He slammed into the ground.Nutaila threw the powder back at them. The cultists collapsed, drugged.
She untied Raven she started running very fast.