All language subtitles for Blood.Myth.2019.720p.WEB-DL.H264.AC3-EVO

Veronica!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Clayton?

Clayton!

Veronica?

Clayton!

Clayton!

Veronica!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Veronica!

Clayton!

Veronica!

Veronica!

Veronica!

Clayton!

Over here.

Tell me a story.

- I'll never forget
what I saw that night.

Etched in me memory.

Haunting me dreams ever since.

Unless it's the weekend, it's
fairly quiet on the levels.

So, I can make me rounds
on a standard Thursday,

bottom to top and back
again in a steady 15.

I lit up a cigarette
and took in the night.

That's when I heard
this weird sound

coming from behind me.

Sort of

mechanical whirring.

I turned towards the
sound and glimpsed this

intense light on the horizon,
moving in my direction,

covering miles in
the blink of an eye.

As it neared ever closer,
it grew larger, brighter,

covering all the
colors of the spectrum,

and then, darkness.

I became transfixed.

Unable to move.

And this,

this fear, now like a black
hole the size of a house,

was hovering, nearly
50 feet above me.

And suddenly, it shined
this blinding light

back down on me.

Like, God calling from on high.

And then,

it was gone.

Of course
it's bollocks.

But I've got to give him credit.

It's one of the more creative
hoaxes in a long line

of tall tales from attention
seeking imaginatives

and drunks.

These assignments will bury me.

Everybody's got a bloody story.

- I must have been nine
or 10 when it happened.

There was a full moon,

and a thick fog filled
the narrow streets.

- It was moving towards me,

gliding above the floorboards.

- Fear coursed through
my veins when I heard

its blood curdling roar.

- The sound of heavy
hooves on the stone cobbles

quickly approaching
me from behind.

- A woman, draped
in a flowing gown.

- That's when I first
laid eyes on the creature.

The dragon.

- I was knocked to the floor.

Terrified, I saw the
blood laden horse rear up

in front of me.

His rider was wearing
a black cloak,

and he was headless.

- I stood frozen to the spot,
trying desperately to avoid

its hollow glare.

- Burst out of the lake, water
cascading from its scales

and it flew straight at
me with death in its eyes.

- The blood came
pouring down his neck

as the knife sliced
into his skin,

kind of like the razor sharp
teeth of a great white.

- You're not filling
me full of confidence

in your abilities
with that thing.

- That happened twice, okay?

I'm much better now.

- I feel much more at ease.

- You can always opt
out if you want to.

- I'm under strict instruction.

Smarten up, ready for
impending fatherhood.

- You could look like
you've been sun bathing

in a balaclava.

- It's a gamble
I've got to take.

- Hey, when is
she due, actually?

Last time she came in,
she was fit to burst.

- A couple of weeks.

- Say goodbye to freedom, mate.

- So I'm told.

- Saw some of your recent work,

the Lincoln Myths.

- I'm sorry to hear that.

- I love that shit.

There's website full of
them on the internet.

In fact, I heard
this one story--

- Christ, not you as well.

- Okay.

There's this remote,
rural village called Herg.

Apparently every 30 years,
dating back hundreds,

someone disappears.

Vanishes without a trace.

No witnesses.

And subsequent investigations
by the families

and friends have all
turned up no evidence

to support the stories.

It's become a bit of a folklore.

This weekend is the
anniversary of Thirty.

- I heard about
your latest call.

By all accounts, Bennett's
pretty pissed off.

You trying to force his hand?

- Well I can't fire him.

- Who got the pages, culture?

- Sports.

- Those twats.

You know, how much non-league
football can they write about?

And yet I still get stuck
with the cuckoo's nest

of rejects.

- Know of any good ones lately?

- One guy drew me a
map to some Nazi gold

hidden in a sunken u-boat
off the coast of Mablethorpe.

So.

Are we good?

- It'll do.

- I'm so glad I
could be of service.

- If you're not happy
in your new position,

I'm sure your inbox is just
full of offers, so please.

- No.

- No?

- We've spoken about this.

- You're a fucking pussy.

- I need expenses.

- What for?

- To follow up with a story.

- Why can't you just make
it all up like the last guy?

- If I wanted to write fiction,

I'd write my great space novel.

Seeing as you gave me
this bullshit assignment,

the least you can do
is stomp up for it.

- Christ.

- Disappearances.

- Disappearances?

Do you know how many
people disappear each week,

even each day?

- But this one is different.

It goes back centuries.

Every 30 years.

They call it

Thirty.

- Thirty?

It's imaginative.

This is the one
you're buying into?

- There could be
something to it.

I thought I could go
up, talk to some locals.

You never know.

- Well what'll it cost me?

- Accommodation.

Train tickets.

Car ride.

- Tickets?

Is this an invite?

- I'm taking Harriet.

- That whore?

- Is that a yes?

- Just bring me a fucking story.

- There you go, grandma.

- Grandma?

That's fresh, coming from
you and your glass back.

- Yeah, that's genetic.

- Yeah, conveniently only
flares up when there's

some housework to be done.

- You know I'm short.

Why this assassination
of my character?

- I haven't forgotten
the time you injured

your back playing golf,
just to get out of laying

those patio tiles.

- That was legitimate.

I trapped a nerve attempting
a long island shot

over the tenth.

Ruined my round.

- I'm sure it did.

Alright for some.

- Don't worry, I'm
sure I can drink enough

for the two of us.

Thanks.

All packed?

- Sort of.

So where exactly are
you dragging me to?

- Herg.

- You're not going to be
working all weekend, are you?

- Uh, a few interviews.

Half a day, tops.

- Why do you continue to
put up with this crap?

- It's all they have
for me at the moment.

- Claire has for you.

- Stop it, it's for work.

- So.

What's the story?

- Thirty.

- The UFO one?

It'll be nice,
just the two of us.

- Yeah, well I thought
it could be our

last little break before, um.

- We're not camping are we?

- No, don't worry,
I've learned my lesson.

No, I haven't actually booked
one yet, if you want to.

That way you can't complain.

- Complain?

- Sorry, nag.

Book somewhere you
can put your feet up,

and enjoy the scenery.

- I think I can manage that.

Don't they have
crime around here?

- Anything?

- Just the blue dot.

Bloody map still won't load.

And the signal's
dropped out again.

- Great.

Probably end up driving
into a quagmire.

See if there's a proper
map in the glove box.

- Nothing.

There's
someone up ahead.

What's he doing?

- Excuse me?

Excuse me?

- Graven image.

- Any chance you can point
me in the direction of Herg?

- Herg.

Continue along this lane
for approximately two miles,

at which point you'll arrive
at the Hamilton Magsby.

As you pass through,
you'll need to take

the bridge over the river,
continue on for another

six and a quarter miles,

whereon you'll reach Herg.

- Cheers.

Any place I can
get a bite to eat?

- You will find the Rowbook
Inn at Herg most accommodating.

- I appreciate your help.

- If they're all like
that, you'll fill a book.

- Hope everything was okay?

- It was lovely.

- Oh, you'll struggle
to get a signal in here.

You're in a bit of a black spot.

- It all adds
color to the story.

Isolated from the wider world.

- It writes itself.

- Are you here about Thirty?

- I am.

- You don't strike me as
the usual conspiracy junkies

that pass through here.

- Yeah, I'm writing an article.

What do you know about it?

- Same ghost story as
everyone around here.

- Disappearances?

- Yeah.

- Tell me your story.

- Centuries ago, a malevolent
entity was summoned

by a disillusioned
religious fanatic

in order to do the bidding
of a worshiped, darker,

higher power demanding
a blood debt in exchange

for prolonged life.

Life for a life.

Generations of disappearances.

People being taken
as sacrificial lambs.

Until, the eventual demise
of the Black Priest,

having succumbed
to extreme old age.

Silence fell, and it was
thought that the rathe,

which shared a
symbiotic relationship,

had also passed over and
the threat was extinguished,

but they were deceived.

Three decades later,
on the anniversary,

another was taken.

A dark shadow resurfaced,

and every 30 years
hence kills on,

in continued payment
to its master.

- So it's supernatural then?

- If you believe in the legend.

- And do you?

- Like I said, it's just
a ghost story passed down

through generations and
told to scare children.

- But people have disappeared?

- According to some,
but not in my lifetime.

- Who should I speak to then?

- I'd try Clayton Eldridge.

If Thirty is to be believed,
his sister was the last

to be taken.

- Really?

Where do I find him?

- He lives out on Nook Road.

You may find him elusive.

- And why is that?

- He spends his time
combing the wilderness

in the vain hope of finding her.

- After 30 years?

Eh, I'll track him down.

- Can I ask,

what do you believe?

- I'm inclined to
agree with you.

- Yet you still came
all the way out here.

- If Thirty really is
nothing more than an

old wives tale, why
are you out here?

- I'm drawn by the
disappearances.

- Because of Abigail?

- I want to discover the truth.

In my experience, once
you scrape away all the

folklore bullshit that
taints these stories,

there's always fragments
of credibility.

It doesn't matter if it's
sightings, attacks, abductions.

- But 30 years apart?

Surely that's a coincidence.

Ambitious, even for a
serial killer, or copycats.

- Maybe.

Maybe not.

- What's that?

- Come on, let's get inside.

Hello?

- This is ominous.

- Yeah, not creepy at all.

Hello?

- Shit, I left my
handbag in the car.

- Yeah, I'll go get it.

- Don't be daft.

Give me the keys.

- You sure?

- And they say chivalry's dead.

You get us checked in and
then come and find me.

- Can I help you?

- My partner rang
yesterday about a room?

- Is that Lincoln?

- Two for two nights.

- I was expecting
you a few hours ago.

- Sorry, we got way late.

- I've put you in
the Autumn Room.

- Sounds good.

- Is that a card payment?

- Of course.

- To the upstairs, at
the end of the corridor.

Breakfast will be available
from half past seven.

- Thanks.

Don't worry, I'll get the bags.

We should get one for the house.

I should have carried
you over the threshold.

- Not in my
out-of-wedlock state.

What the hell are you doin'?

- I'm trying to find the
creepy Victorian doll.

I mean, it's bound
to be here somewhere.

- I think it's charming.

Untouched.

- Eh, above the 21st century.

You okay?

- Cramp.

- Better?

- Yeah.

Thanks.

What time is it?

It's still early.

- Sorry I woke you.

- It's fine.

Are you sure you're okay?

- Yeah.

Go back to sleep.

I'm going to just
stretch my legs.

Try and shake it off.

- You want me to come?

- No.

Go back to sleep.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

I don't know
what you're thinking

about those calls from
Claire, but it is over.

I've been clear to her, but
I can't stop her calling me.

Please come back so
we can talk about it.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

Please call me.

We've been through this.

It was a stupid mistake,
and I swear nothing more

has happened.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

This isn't like you.

Just call to say
that you're okay,

and let me explain and
I'll come and pick you up.

Hey,
this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

- Hello?

Hello?

- You shouldn't be back here.

- You were nowhere to be found.

- How is it I can help?

- Have you seen Harriet?

- Who?

- The woman I'm with.

Have you seen her this morning?

- I have been up and
about since 5:30,

and you are the first
person I've seen.

- And what about
the other guests?

- There are no other guests.

- Well, can I borrow
your landline?

I can't seem to get
any decent signal

anywhere in this place.

- You may have better
luck up on the hill.

- Well if I just use
your line, as I'm here.

I really need to
get ahold of her.

- It's just behind you.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a me--

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

Having second
thoughts about the woman

you chose to take away with you?

- What did you say to her?

You know as well as me that she can't satisfy you like I can.

- I thought I made this
clear that it's over.

I love Harriet.

I was thinking
about you all night

wishing you were
between my thighs.

- I haven't got time for games.

Tell me what you
said to Harriet.

Have the two
of you had a lover's tiff?

- Stop the lies, what
did you say to her?

What possible
reason would I have

to speak to her?

- To spoil the water after
I've turned you down?

Fucking hell, you
do think highly of yourself.

- Whatever.

You've achieved your
goal, congratulations.

I wanted you
last night, not her.

- Yeah, well I woke up
to find the bed empty

and half a dozen calls from you.

I can assure
you I've got no intention

of telling that knocked
up whore about us.

- Yeah, enough.

She's nowhere to be seen.

She's not answering her phone.

If she's finally
put two and two together,

you need to sort this out.

I suggest you find her and
convince her she's wrong.

- Fuck.

You're fine
enough in the sack,

but let's get things straight.

That's all it ever is, or was.

I don't want a
crazy, hormonal bitch

knocking down my door.

- Yeah well how exactly do you expect
me to explain these late night calls?

I'm sure
you've already told her

what a demanding
bitch of a boss I am

to cover the nights away,
so bullshit her some more.

In future, I suggest you only
call me with either a story,

or a desire to fuck.

- Anything to it?

- Nothing out of ordinary
in the immediate area.

Moving forward, I'm going
to need a recent picture

of the missing.

- She's not just missing.

I believe she's been
taken, abducted.

- So you keep inferring.

Well, until I find
evidence to suggest such

nefarious deeds, if
it's all the same,

we'll focus on the facts.

People go for early
morning hikes around here

every day of the week.

On occasion, some end up
venturing a little further

than they anticipated and
head off the beaten path.

It's easier to
lose your bearings.

You said yourself, she
went to stretch her legs.

- To walk off a cramp.

She's eight and a
half months pregnant.

She's not going hiking.

- Might appear unlikely, but
past experiences show me that

the simplest explanation
for the presumed missing

is most often the correct one.

Don't be surprised
when she walks over

the horizon wondering what
all the fuss is about.

- And if she doesn't?

- Then I'll begin the
necessary procedure.

- Alright, if it's so black
and white, explain this.

I found it pressed into
the ground, near the car.

- Knitting?
- Evidence.

- Of what?

- I don't know.

A struggle?

More than you'd have me believe.

- There it is.
- There what is?

- You're one of them.

Another myth chaser.

- You're right,
for Stardoff News,

and yes, I'm
investigatin' Thirty, but,

like you, I'm only
interested in the facts.

- Then let me lay
them out for ya.

Thirty is nothing more
than a bedtime story told

by parents to keep
their kids in line.

- So I've been told.

- And pay it no mind.

Heck I even told
it to my youngin's.

I can assure you, there's
no monster to be found.

- Well no monster perhaps, but,

you can't deny there
have been disappearances.

The Eldridge girl?

- You've been doing
some research.

- Well that, coupled with
Harriet's disappearance,

there's your 30 year pattern.

- I hate to burst your
bubble like the others

who have come 'round
here over the years

hoping to find a story, all
any of the investigations

have discovered was one
little in that case,

which was solved.

A lot of boy who cried wolf.

The proprietor said
you checked in alone.

- Harriet was at the car.

You think I did it?

- Just establishing
the full picture.

- Alright, what is it?

A conspiracy, or are
you just incompetent?

- I think that
about wraps it up.

Despite what you might think,

I'm trying to help
you find Harriet,

and I'll continue to do so.

I'm not gonna stand
here and be insulted

by an arrogant hack
who's bought into a hoax.

I certainly won't chase shadows.

- So that's it, then?

- Text me that
picture of Harriet,

plus her mobile number and
I'll check with the hospital.

If you want something to
do, I suggest you contact

any of her family and friends.

But I guarantee she'll be
back here before you get

through her address book.

And I'll keep you updated,
but call me when she's back.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

Please let
me know where you are.

I've been out looking for you.

I'm getting worried.

Just let me know
you're both safe.

I'm sorry.

- Lincoln, I presume?

- Caulfield?

- Let's be brief, as this
meeting wasn't scheduled.

- I appreciate you seeing me.

- Alex explained your situation.

What can I do for you?

- I need you to
circulate the story.

- Have you contacted the police?

- I spoke to a Sergeant Jarrett.

He didn't seem overly
concerned though.

He just fed me some tosh
about how she's probably

got sidetracked
whilst out walking.

- You'd be surprised how
often that's the case.

- She's pregnant.

- Well have you
contacted the hospital?

- Nothing.

Jarrett's put them on alert.

- Well it appears as
though the sergeant

has the situation under control.

- If I need any information,
it's important this

gets out there quickly.

- Oh, we're simply
weekly, I'm afraid.

- Well what about online?

- Ink and paper only.

We barely have
enough news for that.

- I'm not asking for a
bloody Sunday supplement.

It's a small piece
asking for any knowledge.

- I'll see what I
can put together,

but it's going to
be very tricky.

We're so near publication.

- I suspect foul play.

- Along what lines?

- Thirty.

- Thirty.

Never made anything to it.

Dead ends.

We just lead on it for tourism.

- So why do I keep getting
the same passe line?

- So you've mentioned
it to Jarrett then?

- I did.

- Put yourself in his position.

What do you expect him to do?

Call a priest?

- No, but there should
be a proper investigation

into the facts.

- The facts, according to you?

- I'm sorry?

- Harriet hasn't
been seen by anyone

other than yourself since
you were in the Rowbook.

- Who have you been talking to?

- I keep my ear to the ground.

- And what exactly
are you trying to say?

- You've built quite the
fan base of the surely

city readers of
your column, fella.

- I just do the
job I'm assigned.

- Well what better way
to get back amongst it

if one of your stories
actually turn out to be true?

And you had a tragedy that had
never been so close to home.

That's a national front page.

- Are you fucking serious?

- As soon as Benedict
give me say so,

I'll see if I can
put it together.

- No, no, no, this
is fucking insane.

I'll find her myself.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and
I'll get back to you.

Please answer.

I'm now really worried, my
mind is racing about this

ridiculous Thirty story, just,
call and put my mind at ease.

I love you.

Hey!

Hey, hey!

- Glad you took
up my invitation.

Come in.

- Why am I here?

- We'll have time
for your questions.

Take a seat.

The kettle's just boiled.

Do you always repay
people's hospitality

by snooping through
their belongings?

- Even if the findings
justify my actions?

What the hell is this?

- I do wish you would
have just waited.

Camera.

- Not until you tell me
what I'm seeing here.

- It's not what you think.

- Convince me.

- Don't you trust me?
- Not after today.

- But I invited you here.

- With a creepy, anonymous note.

Where's Harriet?

- Please sit.
- No.

- Suit yourself.

If you heard of
Thirty Truthseeker--

- The blog?

- It's mine.

- It seemed more credible than
most of the stuff I've read.

- 30's been a hobby of
mine going on 15 years.

- You believe it?

- Yes.

Harriet's disappearance,
I'm afraid,

has all the hallmarks of Thirty.

- And what do you know about it?

- I've lived in
Herg my whole life.

I remember when Veronica
Eldridge went missing

30 years ago.

Her parents wouldn't
talk about it.

They thought it would
be too upsetting, but,

I would overhear them
discussing things

when they thought
I wasn't around.

My grandad would tell me
stories about it, though.

He used to give me chills.

He would say that this
was his third Thirty.

Again, my parents
would laugh it off.

He even told me that
his own grandad used to

tell him about people
vanishing when he was young.

Our parents were right; it
scared the shit out of me.

What could do that
over hundreds of years?

Something

very sinister.

Evil.

- What makes you so
different from the others

who just dismiss it?

- Well I've got
no hidden agenda.

- So there is a
conspiracy to cover it up?

- Yes and no.

I've seen the police files,
and, what you've been faced

with is boys own loyalty.

Caulfield and Jarrett
go back a long way.

They're thick as thieves.

Sergeant Jarrett has a
family history of being

burned by Thirty and Aaron,
he's just a bit of a prick.

Jarrett's father was
the policeman in Herg

when Veronica went missing.

He fully believed
all the stories.

Took it all very seriously.

I believe it was a
disappointment of never finding

a missing pregnant girl, which--

- Pregnant?

Yes.

- The Eldridge girl?

- Yes.

- And what about the others?

- No records, but, I fear so.

Which makes it all
infinitely more disturbing.

Jarrett Senior took his
own life as a result

of his failure.

- So how do I find Harriet?

I mean, she's still out
there with our unborn child.

I have to hold onto the
belief she's still alive.

- I have been working
my way through

residents past and present.

The history of Herg,
interviewing all to get

any accounts of Thirty.

Amongst all the reports,
wild stories, and bullshit,

one individual stood out.

- The father of
Veronica's child?

- Unlikely.

That was always a mystery.

Clayton Eldridge.

Tape recorded on the

5th of September, 1987.

I'm Sergeant Arthur Jarrett,
conducting the interview

of one Clayton Eldridge,

age 16.

Okay, Clayton.

I'm gonna ask you
some questions, okay?

First off, in your own
words, do you want to tell

me what happened?

We were out
taking Kit for his walk

down Borderwood Path,
when out of the night,

a blinding light took my vision.

- He claimed the next thing
he remembers was coming

to at sunrise to find
his sister missing,

his dog dead, and his hands
and clothes covered in blood.

Hypnotherapy was employed
to try and subconsciously

bring out a confession,
but, all he said was

he heard a voice crying
out in the wilderness

like something out
of a nightmare.

- And what about DNA?

- The blood was from the dog.

No trace of Veronica.

Despite Clayton's continued
pleas of innocence,

with no other suspects,
he was detained in a

psychiatric ward, until he
was released five years ago

wherein he returned to the
area in his old cottage.

He lives alone and
barely speaks to anyone.

He just walks across the moors.

- We need to track him down.

And I'll pay Jarrett a visit.

- Let's leave and come
back in the morning.

- No.

If you ask Harriet, I'm
not waiting until tomorrow.

You can wait here if you want.

It's him, he has Harriet.

- Where?

- I don't know, but
it's fucking him.

- Did he see you?

- Who?
- Someone's in there.

- Wait here.

- We should get Jarrett.

- After I have Harriet.

- Wages of sin is death.

- Now just hold on.

- Against the wall,
if you please.

- Just--

- Wager is up.

- You don't have to do this.

- What calls you
to purpose here?

- We're looking for
someone, a missing woman.

- Veronica?

- No, my partner Harriet.

Where is she?

- It's too late.

- Look, just tell me
where I can find her.

- She's gone.

- What have you done with her?

- As you sew, so shall you reap.

- Please help us,
Clayton, or either her

while the child's still alive.

- Once they take them,
they don't come back.

They never come back.

- Who takes them?

- Thirty.

- Where the fuck is she?

Where the fuck is she?

- They have her now.

- Who has her?

- It's not him.

What is all this, Clayton?

- I'm searching for her.

- What do the threads mean?

- The ESBAT stones.

- I'm gonna try
and call Jarrett.

- Priest?

Alexandra?

Who did this?

- Out of the darkness.

- Just hold tight, we'll
get you to a hospital.

- Too late.

I'm sorry.

- Why?

What for?

- You were creating
noise I couldn't silence.

- Do you know where Harriet is?

- My father was right.

There's a monster
lurking in the shadows.

- Thank God you're okay.

- Evidently.

- Your head, let me
get you patched up.

- It's not all mine.

- Whose blood is it?

What happened to you?
- Where the fuck were you?

- I told you, I went
to call Jarrett.

- I came outside,
and you were gone.

- I was trying to get a signal.

When I got back, you vanished.

Just the empty car.

I feared the worst.

- Jarrett's dead.

- We should go inside.

You're certain it was Jarrett
that dragged you out there?

- He admitted as much.

- Why would he do that?

- Better to bury the truth
then be on in search of a myth.

- Yeah, he's dead all the same.

- Perversely poetic.

- Do you think he was
connected to Thirty?

- Yeah, he spoke of something
darker as to what killed him.

- Clayton disappeared.

- What?

- I was looking for you
and he was also gone.

- Fuck.

Yeah, I knew he was involved
and you talked me out of it.

But if they're still alive,
and we're to find them,

we need to act now.

I'll contact the county
police, and back to the B&B.

- I was looking through
photos of Clayton's wall.

- Anything to it?

- Not yet.

- Well.

Keep combing through
the other six notations

and decipher any thread
from the information

which might bear relevance.

- I'll compile everything
ready for the police.

- Yeah, thank you.

- Tread carefully.

If you see Clayton, don't
confront him or find them.

- Are you alright?

- You found us.

Come forth into
the light, lone traveler.

A sacrificial mark.

Mother of life.

Mother of death.

- We need to leave, now.

I am legacy.

I am father.

I am rathe.

Born of the shadows,

a lineage unbroken
for generations.

- Blood

must be paid.

- What the fuck's happening?

- I am a righteous servant.

I win over your soul and
ignite the spirit of darkness.

I am a priestess.

A bringer of death.

- Blood must be pai--

- Are you okay?

- Wait, wait, wait, no!

What are you doing?

Tell me a story.

There's a remote,
rural village called Herg.

Apparently every 30 years,
dating back hundreds,

someone has disappeared,
vanished, without a trace.

No witnesses.

It's just a
ghost story passed down

through generations and
told to scare children.

Thirty is nothing
more than a bedtime story.

Used to tell
him about people vanishing

when he was young.

This one's different.

Goes back centuries.

Despite
reports being filed

by family and friends
of the missing person,

subsequent investigations
never found any evidence

to support the accusations.

And this weekend is
the anniversary of Thirty.

- It'll be nice,
just the two of us.

Isolated from the wider world.

What could do
that over hundreds of years?

Something very sinister.

Evil.

There's a monster
lurking in the shadows.

- The stories have
become folklore.

They call it

Thirty.