The veil lifts on Kaeltripton! Last time, Van Helsing revealed Lucy’s vampirism—now Mina uncovers Jonathan’s harrowing tale, linking it to the Count, while Van Helsing and Seward stalk the undead Lucy to end her terror. We’re serving this free slice of Dracula with a teaser excerpt below, followed by the full text from roughly pages 192 to 208—covering Mina’s realization and a grim mission. We’re dishing out Dracula in chunks—keep checking back for more, or grab a $5 subscription to unlock the whole saga now, plus my takes on its chilling revelations. Ready to face the abyss? Let’s plunge deeper!

Mina Harker’s Journal (Continued)
27 September.—After Jonathan gave me his journal, I read it through tears—every word a stab. That castle, those women, the Count—it’s all real, and it’s him, Dracula, who’s behind this nightmare. I typed it out, hands shaking, to keep my mind steady. To-day I sent copies to Dr Seward and asked to meet—I’m sure Lucy’s death ties to this. Jonathan’s stronger, helping me, but he flinches at every sound. Mr Hawkins worsens; I fear he’s slipping away too.
28 September.—Dr Van Helsing came to us in Exeter—a small, fierce man with kind eyes. I gave him the journal, and he read it in silence, nodding now and then. ‘This is truth,’ he said at last. ‘Your husband faced the Nosferatu—Count Dracula—and lived.’ I told him of Lucy, and his face hardened. ‘She too fell to him—I’ve seen her risen.’ Jonathan gripped my hand, pale but resolute. ‘If it’s him,’ he said, ‘I’ll hunt him to hell.’ Van Helsing smiled grimly. ‘We shall, my friends. Together.’ He left to plan with Seward—I feel hope and dread in equal measure.
Dr Seward’s Diary
29 September.—Van Helsing returned from Exeter, his energy electric. ‘Mina Harker’s given us the key,’ he said, waving a typed sheaf. ‘Her husband met the fiend—Dracula—and now we know our foe.’ Arthur’s with us, burning for revenge, though he doubts still. To-night we went to Kingstead again—Van Helsing insisted we see Lucy as she is. The tomb was cold, silent, but as we opened her coffin, my blood froze—she lay there, not decayed but radiant, lips red as blood, a faint smile on her face. Arthur choked, ‘She lives!’ but Van Helsing hissed, ‘No—she preys.’
30 September.—Last night was hellish. We hid near the churchyard, waiting. Near midnight, a white figure glided from the tomb—Lucy, but not Lucy. Her eyes burned red, her beauty cruel, and she held a child, limp in her arms. Arthur lunged, but Van Helsing held him back. ‘Not yet,’ he whispered. She dropped the child—unharmed, thank God—and turned to us, laughing, a sound like breaking glass. ‘Come to me, Arthur,’ she purred, arms outstretched. He faltered, but Van Helsing thrust a cross between them—she shrieked and fled back to her coffin. ‘You see now,’ he said. ‘We must end her—to save her soul.’ Arthur wept, but nodded. I’m numb—my Lucy, a monster?