The light fades on Kaeltripton! Last time, a wolf left Lucy clinging to life—now she slips away despite desperate efforts, leaving Seward, Van Helsing, and Arthur reeling. Her death sparks a vow as shadows tighten their grip. We’re serving this free slice of Dracula with a teaser excerpt below, followed by the full text from roughly pages 156 to 175—covering her final moments and the grim resolve that follows. We’re dishing out Dracula in chunks—keep checking back for more, or grab a $ subscription to unlock the whole tale now, plus my takes on its mournful turns. Ready to say goodbye? Let’s mourn and vow together!

Dr Seward’s Diary (Continued)
20 September.—Lucy slipped away to-day. It was a cruel, slow fading—each breath weaker, her face whiter, until at last she lay still. Arthur was with her, holding her hand, his tears falling silently. Van Helsing and I stood helpless; all our blood, all our science, couldn’t hold her here. Yet in death she was beautiful—her face softened, almost glowing, as if the pain had melted away. Arthur kissed her cold lips, and I turned away, my heart breaking for him.
Van Helsing was strange—his eyes red with tears, but a fierce light in them. ‘This is not the end,’ he said, low and hard. ‘She is not at peace yet, poor child.’ I stared at him—what could he mean? Arthur didn’t hear, lost in grief, but I pressed Van Helsing later. ‘Not now, Jack,’ he whispered. ‘Soon you will see. We must watch her still.’ He placed a cross on her brow, and she didn’t flinch this time—only lay serene. We left Arthur with her body, and I write this now, numb and shaken.
21 September.—Arthur’s gone to his father—Lord Godalming’s dying, they say—and I’m alone with Van Helsing at Hillingham. Lucy lies in the parlor, flowers round her, looking like a sleeping angel. Van Helsing’s been restless, checking her every hour, muttering about ‘the unclean.’ I asked him plainly what he fears, and he gripped my arm: ‘She may not rest as we think. I have seen such things—wait, and trust me.’ Renfield’s howling again to-night—wilder than ever, screaming for ‘life.’ I don’t know what links these things, but I feel a storm coming.
22 September.—Arthur returned, hollow-eyed but resolute. Van Helsing called us together—Mina sent word Jonathan’s ill again, so it’s just we three. He spoke of Lucy with a strange intensity: ‘She was bitten by something evil—her soul’s in peril still.’ Arthur raged—‘What monster did this?’—and swore to hunt it down. Van Helsing nodded, grim. ‘We will, my friend. But first, we must be sure.’ He wants to see her body again to-night—says it’s not over. I’m torn between grief and dread—what does he know?
Mina Harker’s Journal
22 September.—Jonathan’s weaker since we got home—feverish, haunted by nightmares. Mr Hawkins is so kind, but I’m worried sick. To-day a telegram came from Dr Seward about Lucy—she’s dead, poor darling! I can’t tell Jonathan yet; it’d break him. I wrote Arthur my condolences—he loved her so. This house feels like a tomb.