Prologue

Harker:
To think its taken me a mere two weeks
From london’s smoke to these carpathian peaks
Where night seems so much more dark
What grim adventures lie in wait for me?
It’s far from what one might expect to be
The life of a lawyers clerk.
I hear the wolves, I see the mist
Cut through the jagged hills
I feel so cold; it’s not the wind that chills...

Have we arrived? Is this...?