Welcome to Vallaki. You can’t just walk in anymore.
You sign. You bleed. You obey.
Unless, of course— you don’t have blood.
Half the party makes it inside. The rest? Locked out. Because in Barovia, even cities have rules now.
And they’re worse than the wilderness.
Contracts. Enchanted. Binding. Watching. Guards who don’t smile. A system that doesn’t bend.
But somehow— there’s still gossip.
Bethany appears like a breath of something almost normal. Romance. Drama. Scandal. For a moment, Vallaki feels alive again. Then reality returns.
Payment is collected:
— gold
— blood
Enough to survive. Not enough to feel clean.
Celeste—Julie now—glows wrong. Yellow instead of blue. A disguise that doesn’t hide what she is, only shifts it. Like a sunflower blooming in a place that forgot the sun.
Then the bells ring. And Ibrynn speaks.
Not as a man. As a prophet.
His voice fills the square. His presence bends the crowd. Hatred wrapped in faith. Control wrapped in devotion.
People cheer.
And the worst part?
Some of them mean it.
The party moves. Quietly. Carefully. Graveyard. Watcher house.
Inside— a body. Karl.
And more than just Karl. Death has already happened here.Now comes the harder question: Do you undo it? Because resurrection isn’t kindness in Barovia. It’s consequence.
And somewhere between decisions, deals, and disguises—
a new name surfaces.
Caelum. Familiar. Too familiar.
And for a moment— the past presses too close to the present. Something clicks. Something connects.
And the realization hits like a quiet horror:
Maybe this place hasn’t just been watching them. Maybe it’s been waiting.