The Rise Episode 001 - The House Always Wins
Some doors open only for the invited.
Some paths decide who may walk them.
As hunters watch from the shadows and ancient powers move their pieces, a long-silent house stirs—and the night remembers its debts.
In the Vale of Shadows, the game begins… and the house never loses.
SCENE ONE - The Vale of Shadows – Castle Dracula – Night
The Vale of Shadows never truly slept.
Mist rolled low along the blackened earth like breath from something ancient and patient. The trees surrounding Castle Dracula leaned inward, twisted and skeletal, as though listening. Above them, the castle loomed—not merely standing upon the land, but grown from it, its towers jagged and fang-like against a starless sky.
A horse-drawn carriage emerged from the fog, its wheels whispering over stone rather than clattering. No lanterns burned on its sides. The horses did not snort or stamp; they moved with unnatural calm, as if they knew where they were and dared not object.
The carriage came to a halt near the main gate.
A figure wrapped in heavy fur coats stepped down. The face was obscured by layers of shadow and fabric. Without hesitation, the figure approached the towering doors of Castle Dracula.
Before the figure reached the steps, the carriage turned and departed, fading into the mist as though it had never existed.
From the treeline nearby, three pairs of eyes watched.
Crouched among roots and fallen branches were Carmilla Nocturne, Gene Wrenchester, and Cam Wrenchester.
Gene squinted after the disappearing carriage.
GENE
(muttering)
Damn. You mean we could’ve taken a carriage instead of walking for half a day?
Carmilla did not take her eyes off the castle.
CARMILLA NOCTURNE
The carriage is for invited guests.
(beat)
We are not invited.
She shifted slightly, the leather of her gear barely whispering.
CARMILLA (CONT’D)
And keep your voice down. The Crimson Hand patrols these woods. They protect the castle, not out of loyalty—but obligation. We don’t need their attention.
Cam smirked faintly, scanning the battlements.
CAM
So… worst hotel we’ve ever staked out?
Gene grinned despite himself, then fell quiet as the massive doors opened just long enough for the visitor to slip inside.
The doors shut.
The castle swallowed him.
Gene leaned forward, eyes searching the walls, the trees, the shadows—anything that might resemble an entrance.
FLASHBACK - Four Hours Earlier – The Vale of Shadows
The Vale stretched endlessly in all directions, its geography subtly wrong—paths curved back on themselves, distances lied, time dragged.
Carmilla led the way with practiced ease, cutting through mist and undergrowth as though she’d walked these paths a hundred times before.
Gene and Cam followed, tired but alert.
The journey had been unnervingly quiet. A few minor encounters—restless spirits, half-formed watchers—but nothing worth stopping for.
Then Carmilla stopped.
Ahead, the mist thinned just enough to reveal a small clearing.
Beyond it, faint but unmistakable, rose the silhouette of Castle Dracula.
Carmilla knelt suddenly.
She reached down and picked up a torn strip of red cloth, frayed at the edges.
She brought it to her nose.
Inhaled once.
Her jaw tightened.
CARMILLA
The White Wolf.
Cam frowned.
CAM
Garnett?
Carmilla nodded.
CARMILLA
He and Harker were here. Recently.
She gestured to the ground—disturbed earth, boot prints, heavier impressions.
CARMILLA (CONT’D)
They weren’t alone. At least half a dozen others. Disciplined. Not hunters.
Gene’s expression darkened.
GENE
Crimson Hand.
Carmilla studied the tracks more closely.
CARMILLA
Yes. And…
(beat)
Someone was dragged away.
Cam swallowed.
CAM
If one was dragged… what happened to the other?
Carmilla straightened slowly.
CARMILLA
It appears…
(grim)
They walked away with the group.
The three exchanged looks. No one liked the implications.
Carmilla rose.
CARMILLA
Come on. The castle isn’t far.
The mist closed behind them as they moved on.
SCENE TWO - Castle Dracula – The Visitor
The castle doors groaned open from within.
An attendant, pale and silent, ushered the bundled figure inside. The doors shut with finality.
The attendant motioned toward a chamber to the right.
Inside, candlelight flickered against black stone.
The figure began removing layers of fur.
As the coat slipped free, candlelight caught a hint of green fur beneath.
The figure stepped fully into the chamber.
Grinch Heyman.
He straightened, adjusting his posture, his trademark devious smirk spreading across his face as he surveyed the room.
Along the walls stood members of the Crimson Hand—motionless, hooded, watching.
At the center of the chamber sat Lord Velkan Thorne, composed and immaculate upon an ornate stone throne.
To Thorne’s right stood a brutal vampire warlord—armor of blackened steel etched with crimson runes, fanged motifs worked into every plate. A blood-red cape fell from his shoulders like a declaration of war. His eyes burned with fury and pride.
In the shadows behind them, light briefly glinted off a pair of glasses as Jonathan Harker stepped forward, his expression tight and controlled.
Thorne smiled thinly.
VELKAN THORNE
Welcome to Castle Dracula, Mister Heyman.
Your efforts have been… admirable.
Heyman chuckled.
GRINCH HEYMAN
Fracturing the Alpha Alliance?
Stopping the Dark Dominion from spreading north?
(shrugs)
Honestly, one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.
He tilted his head.
GRINCH HEYMAN (CONT’D)
What I don’t get…
Why deliver Mina Harker to Dragomir?
Thorne folded his hands.
THORNE
Count Dragomir understands wrestling. Influence. Optics.
He is fluent in distraction.
The vampire warlord sneered.
VAMPIRE WARLORD
When the Eternal One walks again, Mina will stand at his side.
Dragomir will bow… or be discarded.
At Mina’s name, Harker bristled.
Heyman noticed immediately.
His smirk sharpened.
Heyman turned to the warlord.
GRINCH HEYMAN
Count Vlad Țepeș-Corvinus, leader of one of the Five Houses.
Let’s hope your patience pays off.
Țepeș-Corvinus stepped forward.
ȚEPEȘ-CORVINUS
And you, Count Vlad Daculescu…
May your masquerade end soon.
The air around Heyman mist-ed.
His form distorted.
The green fur receded.
In its place stood Vlad Daculescu—refined, elegant, clad in a sleek black suit lined with crimson sigils that glowed like embers. One eye reflected fire. The other, shadow.
Thorne rose.
THORNE
Follow me.
He gestured to a hidden door.
THORNE (CONT’D)
Jonathan… stay.
Harker hesitated—then nodded.
SCENE THREE - The Dungeons
The lower levels of Castle Dracula breathed rot and history.
As they descended, Thorne spoke quietly.
THORNE
They cannot know why we want the North Pole.
Wrestling must remain the distraction.
Daculescu smiled faintly.
DACULESCU
By the time they realize the truth…
It will already be too late.
They passed a heavy wooden cell.
Daculescu peered inside.
Huddled in the corner was the real Grinch Heyman—emaciated, terrified, shaking.
REAL GRINCH
Please… no more. I’ve told you everything.
Daculescu shut the window, amused.
Further down, another cell.
Chains rattled.
A growl echoed.
DACULESCU
Who’s this?
THORNE
The White Wolf.
Daculescu laughed.
DACULESCU
So he took the bait.
The window slid open.
Inside, Garnett Hood, shirtless, bound by pure silver chains, snarled.
GARNETT HOOD
You’ll regret this. I’ll tear you leeches apart!
Thorne smiled and closed the window.
They moved on.
SCENE FOUR - The Eternal One
Ornate double doors opened into darkness.
Candles barely illuminated rich tapestries and ancient glyphs.
At the far end, upon a raised dais, sat an ornate coffin—scarred by blackened, burned sigils.
From the shadows emerged a frail, husk-like figure.
He lowered himself into a throne.
The three knelt.
ETERNAL ONE
Rise… my loyal subjects.
They obeyed.
Thorne spoke.
THORNE
Count Daculescu has thwarted Dragomir’s plans.
The Alpha Alliance fractures.
The Eternal One nodded.
THORNE (CONT’D)
The White Wolf is captured.
A rasping whisper:
ETERNAL ONE
Do not underestimate the wolf.
Țepeș-Corvinus scoffed.
ȚEPEȘ-CORVINUS
Silver chains. Wards.
The Eternal One gestured to his scarred coffin.
ETERNAL ONE
Like these?
Silence.
Thorne bowed.
THORNE
We will triple the guard.
The Eternal One turned his hollow gaze.
ETERNAL ONE
And the nourishment?
Thorne smiled.
THORNE
The blood of the eldest daughter of the Wolf.
A thin smile formed.
ETERNAL ONE
Then I will rest.
Do not wake me until it is time… to feed.
The coffin closed.
Darkness reclaimed the chamber.
The Rise had begun.
EPILOGUE - The Belltower of Veșnicel
The bells of Veșnicel did not ring.
They listened.
High above the village, the ancient belltower stood crooked against the night sky, its stone blackened by centuries of wind, ash, and whispered prayers. The bell itself hung motionless—vast, greened with age, etched with symbols no one alive could fully translate.
Inside the tower, tension pressed heavier than the cold.
Jaspar Fang paced like a caged animal, boots scraping stone, breath sharp and ragged. His fists clenched and unclenched as he glared at the bell keeper.
Bătrân Simion stood calmly beside the bell’s chain, hands folded, eyes distant but alert—like a man who had spent a lifetime watching storms form long before others felt the wind.
JASPAR
Tell us how to cross the Vale.
Tell us the paths. The markers. The tricks.
Simion did not flinch.
SIMION
No one tells the Vale to allow passage, boy.
Jaspar spun on him.
SIMION (CONT’D)
The Vale decides.
It always has.
Behind Jaspar, Crimson Vane stepped forward, placing a hand on her brother’s arm.
CRIMSON VANE
Jaspar—enough. He’s not lying.
Jaspar shook her off, fury burning hot.
JASPAR
My father walked into that cursed place and never came back.
And you expect me to stand here while you speak in riddles?
He took a step toward Simion.
The air shifted.
The tower door creaked open—slow, deliberate, heavy.
A voice filled the space like thunder restrained by discipline.
VOICE
Hold, young Hood.
The wind surged inward, snuffing half the candles. The bell gave a single, low groan—as if unsettled.
A figure stood in the doorway.
An ancient titan reborn.
Towering. Broad-shouldered. His presence seemed to bend the space around him. Fur-lined leather straps crossed a chest carved like living stone. Runic armor plates bore scars older than kingdoms. Dragon-scale gauntlets gleamed dully in the candlelight.
Long blond hair and beard whipped in a wind that did not touch the others.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Simion went rigid—then bowed his head.
Crimson Vane swallowed.
CRIMSON VANE
(under her breath)
Beowulf…
Jaspar stared, defiant even in awe.
JASPAR
And who are you to interrupt me?
The titan’s eyes settled on him—ancient, assessing, utterly unimpressed.
BEOWULF
A man who has buried kings.
And monsters.
He stepped fully inside.
The tower felt smaller.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
You are a fool if you believe you can force your way into the Vale.
Dracula still slumbers.
You chase ghosts.
Jaspar’s jaw tightened.
JASPAR
My father didn’t think so.
He went to find the truth.
(beat)
And now I’m here to find him.
Beowulf’s expression hardened—not with sympathy, but judgment.
BEOWULF
Then your father is a fool as well.
Crimson Vane bristled, but Beowulf continued.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
Carmilla Nocturne and the Wrenchesters are more than capable of retrieving him—
without you blundering into forces you don’t understand.
Jaspar stepped closer.
JASPAR
Then tell me what you know of the Vale.
Of Dracula.
Beowulf threw his head back and laughed—a booming, echoing sound that rattled the bell.
BEOWULF
Young pup…
The last time these boots walked the Vale, it was to bring the Impaler to his final rest.
He lifted his gauntleted hands.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
With these hands, I placed the beaten vampire into his warded coffin.
Silver-bound.
Staked through the heart.
Jaspar did not look away.
JASPAR
How can you be sure he’s still bound?
The laughter died.
Beowulf stepped forward, towering over him.
BEOWULF
After the Enclave defeated Dracula, we layered fail-safe upon fail-safe.
His voice became a litany—measured, absolute.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
The stake.
The coffin—warded by one of the most powerful good witches to ever draw breath.
Wards designed to drain the strength of evil itself.
(beat)
And even if the stake were removed…
Even if the coffin were breached…
He gestured outward.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
The castle bears a binding spell—unbreakable.
And beyond that… the Vale of Shadows.
He looked to the dark beyond the tower windows.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
Consecrated ground.
Dracula cannot cross it.
Silence.
Jaspar met his gaze—unflinching.
JASPAR
Then why do the Watchers still stand guard?
Beowulf barked a short laugh.
BEOWULF
Because they are afraid.
He exhaled slowly.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
And fear breeds caution… even when it is unnecessary.
He turned to leave—then paused.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
You will not give up.
Crimson Vane stepped forward.
CRIMSON VANE
Would you… if it were your father?
Beowulf closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, resolve had replaced irritation.
BEOWULF
Very well.
Jaspar’s breath caught.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
I will take you.
But you will obey my orders without question.
Jaspar nodded immediately.
Crimson followed.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
Gather your things.
We leave now.
As Beowulf turned toward the door, Simion stepped forward, urgency breaking his calm.
SIMION
You should not go.
Beowulf did not stop.
SIMION (CONT’D)
You could trigger—
BEOWULF
(cutting him off)
The Vale will remain whole.
He turned back once.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
I know the so-called prophecy.
It was seeded by the Crimson Hand to keep me away.
His voice hardened.
BEOWULF (CONT’D)
Dracula still sleeps.
The bindings hold.
Beowulf stepped into the night.
Simion watched from the tower, sorrow etched deep into his face.
The Vale of Shadows shifted.
And somewhere—far beneath stone, sigil, and consecrated earth—
something listened.
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