PS didn't look nervous anymore. In fact, she looked like her usual unshakable, stone-faced self, which only made the words she spoke next all the more chilling.
"The rookies," she said, her voice low and measured. "They're dead."
The news hit her like a punch to the gut. Her breath caught in her throat, and the memory of their fresh, eager faces flashed before her. They had been so full of life. Now they were gone. The reality of it settled in like lead in her stomach.
PS didn't flinch. She didn't offer sympathy or condolences. She was here for facts. "We found them the day we found you. Blood-dried. Torn apart."
She swallowed hard. "Torn apart by what?"
PS sighed, standing up and moving to the window. He looked out at the water, his back to her as he spoke.
"The creatures we encountered in Cawel Castle weren't random beasts. They were most likely Strzygi."
She blinked. Strzygi. The word hit her like a half-forgotten memory. She'd heard of them-Polish folklore, terrifying, ancient creatures that were as feared as they were rarely seen.
"They're not just legends," PS continued. "They're real. And deadly. Human-looking enough to blend in, but with a second soul. They feed on human flesh and blood, but it's not just about feeding. They drain their victims, devouring them inside out. Not just bodies— souls, too."
A chill ran down her spine as she remembered the viciousness of attacks on her, the story of the way the rookies had been found: hollow, dry, almost... empty. The Strzygi weren't just killing-they were consuming.
PS turned to face her, his expression cold. "There were four of them. From what we observed each one with its own particular... talent."
She couldn't help but shudder. "What kind of talent?"
"Speed, strength, stealth... one of them even had the ability to manipulate magnetic fields. That's why we couldn't get a proper read on what was going on. The technology failed because they interfered with it— there's something ancient in them, something that makes modern tech useless."
Her heart was pounding now, every beat pulsing in her ears. "But the black beast... the one that inadvertently saved me."
PS's face darkened, her eyes hardening. "That one's different. We don't know what it is, exactly. We tried to capture it when it left the castle. It walked out, as if it had finished its business."
"Walked out?"
PS nodded. "Casually. As if it didn't have a care in the world. We sent teams after it, but it's fast. Ridiculously fast. We lost it in minutes."
"Did it... kill anyone else?"
PS shook his head. "No. But that doesn't mean it won't. It's elusive. And dangerous. More like a vampire than anything else, but even that description doesn't quite fit. It drinks blood, but it also seems to have... control over itself, like it's waiting for something."
"A vampire? Like count dracula?"
"Not the kind you're thinking of," PS said. "This one is different from any blood-drinking creature we've read about. The closest we can find in the old lore is the Upiór-another myth from Polish folklore. They're almost like revenants, creatures that rise from the dead but are neither fully alive nor fully dead. They're predators that drink blood, yes, but they're not mindless. The Upiór is intelligent. It stalks its prey. It waits for the right moment."
The image of the black beast flashed in her mind, towering over her, its glowing eyes burning into hers.
But it hadn't attacked. It had fought the other monsters-Strzygi, she reminded herself-but not her.
"The Upiór," PS continued, "was said to be nearly invincible. It could heal from almost any wound. Some versions of the story even say it was cursed to walk the earth, unable to rest, unable to die, until it exacted revenge on those who wronged it."
She rubbed her temples, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. "So we're dealing with creatures out of a nightmare. Four Strzygi, and an Upiór."
PS nodded. "And something else. There's an intelligence to the way these creatures move, the way they hunt. We believe there's something bigger behind them, maybe controlling them. We don't know what yet."
She closed her eyes, trying to process the flood of information. The rookies, dead.
The Strzygi, ancient, blood-thirsty monsters from legend. And the black beast-an Upiór, a creature so fast, so powerful, that it walked away from a team of armed agents like it was a casual stroll in the park.
And then, there was the voice. The beast in her mind.
I'll take back what's mine.
Her pulse quickened again. The Upiór hadn't just let her go. It had claimed her somehow. And now, it was lurking in her thoughts, waiting for something.
"But we don't know where it is," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No," PS confirmed. "Not yet. We're searching. But so far, the sonar mapping is picking up anomalies— strange readings that don't match anything we've seen before. And the fact that it could hide an entire basement from us for this long... it means it can hide a lot more."
The gravity of the situation weighed on her like a lead blanket. They weren't just dealing with creatures out of folklore-they were facing something far more dangerous.
Something that could hide, something that could manipulate their tech, and something that was already inside her head.
PS gave her a long, steady look. "You're going back to Cawel Castle."
She froze, her stomach lurching. "What? I just got out of there."
"I know," he said. "But there's no one else. You're the only one who survived. And you have the strongest chance of surviving again. You need to find out what's really going on down there."
She didn't respond, her thoughts spinning. Her arm throbbed where it had been reattached, and the whisper of the beast's voice echoed faintly in her head.
You're mine.
She could feel it now-the tug between them, the connection that had been formed when she had survived that night. No amount of regeneration could sever it. And no amount of distance would save her.
PS didn't say anything more. She didn't need to. She was going back to Cawel Castle, whether she liked it or not. And this time, she wasn't sure if she'd make it out alive.
As she left the room, she clenched her fists, her mind already racing through possible escape plans, strategies, anything that might give her an edge.
Because if the Strzygi were waiting for her-and the Upiór was out there, hunting—she would need more than luck to survive this time.
She would need a miracle. Or a damn good plan.