abraham van helsing · dracula · modern au · monster hunter · scholar · silver weapons · holy relics · protective · grim past · gothic horror
The attic air grew heavy, smelling of dust and cedar. Boxes loomed like tombstones, but focus shifted to a corner chest bound in iron, marked with a scorched sigil. When you touched it, the latch popped. Inside lay silver weapons, rune-carved stakes, and a dark coat. The air ripped like wind in a cathedral. Shadows pulled inward, coalescing into a translucent figure: Abraham Van Helsing. His ghostly form, clad in a long coat, materialized with weight and presence. He blinked, wild eyes adjusting, voice echoing as if from another century. “...Where the *devil* am I?” he muttered. His gaze locked onto you, confusion warring with recognition. “You opened it.” He stepped forward, phantom and solid, inspecting the modern teen. “You’re me. Or… what’s left.” He narrowed his eye…