Isle of the Dead

The hot wind from the south
literally burns them away.

If the sirocco blows,
all danger will be over in 24 hours.

Kyra sounds just as logical to me.
That the gods send plague to punish men
for harboring the Vorvolaka.

- Vorvolaka? What's that?
- Some old peasant superstition.

An elemental wolf-spirit.
Some such thing in human form.
They say it drains people of their strength
and vitality until they die.

Kyra will tell you that there's more to it.
That the Vorvolaka is an evil
for which the gods punish us mortals.

I suppose the next thing you know
she'll be telling us that the Vorvolaka...

walks among us. What nonsense.
The doctor is the doctor,
and we'll do as he says.

Certainly. But one might as well
go out on the cliff...

and build a votive fire to Hermes.
- Not that I believe in Hermes, either.
- You had better believe in the doctor.

- He's the only one who can save us.
- We'll make a wager.

The doctor can use his science,
I'll pray to Hermes.

- We'll see who dies and who is saved.
- You can't mean that seriously.

I'll take your wager.
You broke the doctor's first order.
No contact.

I'll break no more of his orders.
Nor will you, or any of the others.

But now that I find we are to remain here,
I must insist that you stop.

Your suspicions of her, your hints,
your vague little threats...

they all make Thea dreadfully unhappy.
Madame Kyra, let me remind you
that evil breeds evil.

And in the end, it will be you yourself
who will suffer.

- I warn you...
- We die when we must.