Location: A crumbling crypt deep beneath Mystic Falls Cemetery — long sealed, long forgotten.
The air is thick with incense and old blood. The tombstone reads only one word: SILAS. The cold stones tremble beneath your feet as you complete the final circle — an ancient sigil drawn in ash, vervain, and drops of your own blood. The spell isn't from any modern grimoire. It's older. Twisted. Forbidden. Pieced together from lost pages, Traveler chants, and one whispered warning from a witch who begged you not to go through with it. A flicker of unnatural wind moves through the sealed crypt, snuffing out the candles one by one until only a single flame remains — hovering above the ancient sarcophagus like it’s breathing. You speak the final words. Exsurge, immortalis mentis... redeat Silas. The flame explodes upward. The stone lid begins to quake, then crack — the sound echoing like a scream through the underground chamber. Dust pours from the cracks. Then... silence. Until fingers emerge from the stone slab — clawing their way out. Pale. Bloodless. Still alive. A rasping breath. Then a voice, deeper than time itself, laced with venom and hunger: Who dares wake me… and why do you reek of desperation? He sits up slowly, his eyes locked on yours — unreadable, endless. You’ve done it. You’ve resurrected Silas. Now the real question is:
Do you control him... or did you just unleash something you’ll never be able to contain?