Prologue

Prologue

 

Once upon a time a long, long time ago there lived a great king called Barron and his wife Victoria. Their kingdom was happy and all of the land praised the name of the beloved ruler. He was fierce and merciless to enemies who dared cross him. He was a devoted husband and a wise man on the council always ready to lend an ear to the people who served his kingdom.

The king and queen couldn't have been any happier.  However, the beautiful and generous queen Victoria longed for a child and prayed to the heavens to deliver her that simple request. Although her kingdom was filled with love, her castle was void of childish laughter.  Though she was rich with wealth and land, she was poor in her heart as she was childless.

After many months Victoria conceived and bore King Barron a son so handsome that the queen declared him an angel from God.  His name was Nikolas.  And all of the land praised the name of the prince, the only heir of the king and the future ruler of the nation. 

The kingdom lived happily.  Nikolas grew from a boy into a man, learning to swing a sword and use a shield that weighed more than double his size.  He became stronger than his father and a true warrior of battles that were so fierce, enemy’s coward when they saw him thundering forth on his steed and wielding his family crest. Nikolas was known for his ruthless bloody crusades that won wars and became legends to lands near and far. Nikolas’s quest for greatness came to an earth shattering halt on his 25^th birthday. 

On that particular morning the sun lay resting below the horizon, never touching it with its magnificent rays and the villages were left to whispers.  A deep rolling fog blanketed all that was familiar, kissing everything with a death-like cold. The security of the castle that lay in the reliance of the hard brooding doors, taller than the hundred year old woods, was breached by a striking wind, shattering the hinges. The expansive oak doors were sent blistering to castle floor with an echo so loud even the most distant villager heard.

There standing in the entry way revealed a hooded woman, the most hideous and vile of her kind. Her skin was parched of color, matching that of the ashen walls that were charred from around the fireplace. Her lips drier, than a land untouched by water for a year, and eyes coal black. As black as her cloak. Her wretched hand, wrinkled, and yellowing brittle fingernails reached out, pointing in the direction of the king. From her dry lips, her raspy voice spat very troublesome news. A war would ensue, consuming the kingdom. One that the king and his army would not succeed. The enemies coming were that of such violent power that no man, woman or child could overcome. The woman described these enemies as descendants of the great under lord of hell, relinquished to earth by their lord to exact revenge on the king for his faith.

King Barron belted with laughter in the face of this hideous oracle.  She advised that they leave at once, if not for themselves, for their only heir.  But King Barron never ran from the enemy, only knowing how to advance like his father and the father before him.  The oracle heeded her warning once more as she retracted her yellowing fingers and replacing the hood upon her snow white hair.  All of the fog receded into the depths of the wood line and beyond the boundaries of kingdom and the sun came out once more.

That night dusk kissed the cooling sky with its captivating pinks and purples.  A dusting of twilight glimmered down on all of the people.  A lazy and otherwise pasty moon rose quietly in the night and tucked the villagers into their homes.  But under the cloak of darkness something terrible came out of the woods hissing and growling in the night.  Bursting into the homes of innocent people came pale creatures with skin so white they resembled a glossy pearl. They wore simple robes and shawls that were matted with dirt and riddled with burned holes of fabric. The beasts ransacked the villages like silent thieves, bleeding out most of the villagers in mere seconds and leaving the bodies to in rivers of deep crimson.  By the time the creatures had reached the kingdom it was almost too late for the security to even stop the raid.  The windows and doors were breached and all of the

Long fangs the length of sewing needles and pointed claws as sharp as a steel sword were distinct, prominent features.  Blinding speed and translucent skin with the touch of sordid ice swarmed the castle.  The king stood little chance with his son and wife when one creature easily broke his way into the sleeping chambers.  Its eyes were black as midnight, it’s clothing stained with blood.

“You are the creature from hell.  The one the oracle spoke of.” King Barron spat.  He could still see the curl of her lip and the rot of her teeth fresh inside his mind.  His sword was drawn and the razor sharp point followed the putrid beast as it paced back and forth.  The king stood in front of his family as he bravely guarded his wife and son. 

“You were foolish to ignore her wise words.  You could have escaped and saved your souls from damnation.  Your arrogance and inability to loose have abruptly caused your family their lives, along with most of your council and village.”  The alabaster beast

“If you wish to kill me than do so, demon.  Leave my wife and son alone!”  The king shouted loudly enough to wake the dead people of his kingdom. 

“Barron, I am not here to kill you.  I am here to ensure you an eternity of misery and suffering.  I am here to damn your souls.”

The creature struck as fast as a fit of lightning.  His sharp incisors sliced through flesh like butter.  Blood poured like a waterfall in the kings sleeping chambers and it ran in crimson streams between the cracks of the dusty cobblestone.  The loud piercing screams of the queen were silenced just moments later as the king, the queen, and the prince slumbered under a blood loss.

“I will see you in hell Barron.”  The creature whispered to the sleeping king.  And as quickly as the creatures had come they were gone, descending back into the burning embers of hell that they had crawled out from.

           

That was hundreds of years ago.  The survivors of that night came to just a day later.  They were translucent and thirsted for blood.  They were powerful beyond any human strength.  They were monsters who became hunted by humans. 

They hid in the darkness for ages.  Until three centuries ago. 

The survivors came out of hiding as their aboriginal creatures had come out of hell. 

A grand war waged across the country, costing millions of American lives and spilling so much blood the lands nearly drowned in it.  Half a year was all it had taken before the new race had consumed command over the nation, throwing Nikolas, his father, and mother in charge of 316 million people.  

The nation was then divided into regions and the regions were ruled by strong governor’s hand selected by the king himself.  Each region was divided by massive walls and monstrous guards who did not need guns to control the people.  That is exactly how the last decades had been lived out. 

However, not everyone was pleased with the new arrangements.  Small groups of rebels joined forces in desperate attempts to overthrow the vampire race.  Most of them failed.  But sometimes, just sometimes, the rebels were able to take down a strong political leader.
       

            During the time of war, King Barron led his own battles but was later succumbed to death by one of the rebellious groups.  Queen Victoria later staked herself in depression of losing him; Thus leaving young Nikolas to rule.  He kept the regions.  He kept the governors. 

The world kept turning.  And with each passing day the prince became bitter and dark until his soul was charred ash.

The end.”