In the deepest pits of Hell,
Two demons rose from ash and flame.
One fled the touch of sunlight,
The other, the lure of the moon.
Vampire.
Werewolf.
Two cursed bloodlines,
One thirst for blood.
Across the ages, they escaped Hell's grasp,
Seeking refuge upon the Earth.
There, hidden from fragile humans—
And from the King who forged their kind—
They built secret kingdoms,
And crowned themselves kings.
Dracula, ruler of the Undead.
Lycaon, sovereign of the Moonborn.
For a thousand years, peace endured...
Until desire breached the sacred divide.
When fangs met fangs beneath moonlit skin,
The bloodlines dared to intertwine.
And war ignited.
Brother turned against brother,
Blood drowned the soil,
Until only ashes remained.
The Werewolves were hunted,
Erased from history—
Extinct.
The Vampires seized the throne,
And ruled both land and man.
The war had ended.
The Moonborn were no more.
Or so they believed...