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Once-beautiful cars with chromed tires and polished bodies rot in piles of rusting metal. Iron, revered for centuries and brought to a cult in the form of edged weapons, lies in shapeless heaps of rubbish that no one needs. The old scrap yard is rippling with shades of red and reddish brown rust, a dim lantern illuminating the center of the scrap yard, giving the appearance of the presence of security, although there have been no adults here for many years. Sometimes children wander here; they are always interested in such places for games, but not at night. At the appointed hour, Baruz, on the orders of Alud, brought his fighters to the center of the dump for a joint campaign with vampires to the lair of Lycian (sorcerer people), a huge Berkhes walked nearby. A vampire squad was already waiting at the appointed place. The Furies, led by their leader, stood to attention like black statues. Veilon stood in front, immaculately dressed as always, as if he were not going on a dangerous re