Chronicles of the Wolf

The wolf. The hunt.

Caught a tribe of vampires. And the tribe is small, but they were talking about Bjorn...

they and Wentworth were united by hatred, a burning hatred for the white vampire.

— I will let you live and you will even be subjects of the north if you tell me anything about the weak points of such an indestructible bloodsucker as Bjorn!— the air rustled inside.

As if it were not air, but fire, hellfire roars in the heart of Wentfort.

— What other weaknesses? He's inflexible. He has no weak points.— said one of the gang.

— I see. The conversation is over.—Wentworth said calmly.

The gun is always in constant dangerous proximity and there is enough silver.

Shot, shot, shot, shot, shot.

Karsten calmly watches the ashes being swept away.

***

An awful lot of time had passed, so much, so much...

even a couple of seconds seemed like an eternity for the northern king of Wentfort Karsten, the mad king.

Olga thought she had killed him!

Branches slash across the face, leaving even bloody streaks like the