Blood is their way of life.
From blood, they were made as humans, and through this same blood, they became the children of Nosferatu.
He was the first of their kind. And it began with a single vampire creating others. And the answer to how he came about lies in the Scriptures of Delhi, specifically in the collection of writings known as 'The Vampire Bible'.
The first vampire started not as a vampire at all, but as a human man named Ambrogio. He was an Italian-born adventurer whom fate brought to Delphi, in the Hellenic Republic.
Specifically, it began with the sun god Apollo, who in a fit of rage cursed Ambrogio so that his skin would burn should it ever touch sunlight again.
Ambrogio's bad luck followed when he ended up gambling away his soul to Hades, the god of the underworld. The next curse came via Apollo's sister Artemis, the goddess of the moon and hunting, who made it so that Ambrogio's skin would burn if he touched silver.
The blessings came soon after when Artemis, taking pity on the poor young man, gave him the gift of immortality. He would carry his curses - his skin burning by sunlight or silver, but he would live forever in his current form. Not only that, but Artemis also gave him the speed and strength to become a hunter whose skills were second only to her own. Blood-sucking was also part of this twisted "blessing".
Ambrogio later moved back to Italy, now as a full-fledged vampire. Legend traced him to the city of Firenze in the province of Tuscany, where he created the first Vampire Clan.
Those who formed the clan were most likely willing volunteers - humans who wanted power and immortality and were willing to trade their souls for it. It was believed that the curse would continue for any vampire where their souls would remain in the Underworld or Hades or Hell where they could return to claim them, but then could never leave.
The clan grew in size and strength, until infighting created something of a 'civil war' within the clan, and many vampires left to form their own clans.
The fall of the vampire dynasty began when the werewolves emerged and took over as the dominant race.
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Lycaon was the king of all lycanthropes. He was said to have the strength of mountains, the speed of moving stars, and a will that was like unto fire. Some said he was a cruel and barbaric king, others said that he was a noble and benevolent lord. Some even likened him to a god. But the bottom line was that without him, werewolves would not exist. And honestly, one cannot be sure whether to be thankful or spiteful.
Lycaon was a king of Arcadia, son of Pelasgus. He is regarded as the first werewolf in existence and thus the king of all werewolves and the strongest of them all.
Due to being the first werewolf, he was the only known species of werewolf with whitish gold fur. It is extremely rare for another werewolf to have this fur coloration, even if it was just a small patch.
Lycaon had many wives, including the Naiad nymphs, Cyllene and Nonacris. These wives gave birth to many sons for Lycaon, till he became a father to fifty sons.
Lycaon's problems began when he tested Zeus by serving him the roasted flesh of a guest from Epirus to see whether Zeus was truly omniscient. In return for these gruesome deeds, Zeus transformed Lycaon into the form of a wolf and invoked a curse where any silver material or possession will become a bane to him.
Zeus then seemingly killed Lycaon's fifty other sons with lightning bolts and the slaughtered child, Nyctimus, was restored to life. Nyctimus then succeeded Lycaon as king in the process.
However, unbeknownst to Zeus at the time before killing most of his fifty sons, Lycaon bit them and placed them under the curse of the werewolf, enough for them to survive the King of the Gods' wrath. After surviving, the surviving sons of Lycaon all escaped out into the wilderness and traversed the globe separately, each one making a clan of werewolves that have come to be known across the world.
Zeus later knew of their survival and opted to destroy them with a great flood. Despite his efforts, Lycaon and his sons survived the deluge and Zeus was prepared to eradicate them once more. However, he was stopped by Athena who informed her father that perhaps Lycaon and his sons may be of some use to restoring proper balance to the Natural Order. In this case, they would become a foil to the vampires that terrorized many human regions across the world and by Zeus' hand, he would have created a solution to rid the vampiric dilemma. Zeus heeded Athena's advice and stayed his hand.
Thus, the werewolves have evolved their legacy with one thing on their minds: to rid the world of vampires. So they enslaved the vampires who they captured, tortured, and exploited for their benefit. And this has gone on for centuries, till the present epoch.
The freedom of the vampires, their peace and right to association, was perpetually snatched away from them and every of their possession was shared among the werewolves and their willing collaborators, the witches.
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The werewolves rounded them all up, the vampires who had surrendered like pigs were corraled into a sty. The leader of the wolf pack was called Luke. The way he was dressed, one couldn't even tell the difference between a witch and the werewolf's leader. His robe was red, like blood flowing. Hopefully, such shade sent a message to an adversary. Luke was the one who had spoken to the Elder Supremo, promising death to his daughter and wife, if a call of capitulation wasn't made.
So he had made the call.
But his daughter wasn't spared.
The Elder Supremo stared at the lifeless body of his daughter, lying askew on the floor of his abode, a gob of blood pouring out of her mouth like molten magma out of a volcanic rock. He remembered the moment he had bitten on his wrist, held it over his daughter's face, and told her to drink and become more.
What could he do?
Follow the path she had taken? Would that be foolish of him? Because he knew that fighting was a lose-lose situation. He'd only end up making his wife a widow.
The Elder Supremo watched his wife cry over the dead body of their child for a spell, before turning his eyes away, heartbroken.
Luke pulled down his hood to reveal a manly face with a jaw streaked with white beards. His eyes were the color of the moon. And those sockets looked like houses to a celestial body.
"Round them all up, Mythia," he said.
The witch called Mythia, passed the order and soon, the vampires of Manstadia were cuffed with magic restraints, hands behind their backs.
"How do we share the spoils, Alpha?" Mythia asked Luke.
"How many of them are there?"
"A lot." Mythia counted with her eyes. "Thirty in all."
Luke breathed in. "A good number. I'll take twenty."
"That is absurd. I told you that we need vampire blood for regeneration. We should share the spoils even this time."
"Your people didn't even get a scratch," Luke complained. "Have you seen mine?"
Mythia didn't look content with the way Luke wanted to share the vampires. She got in his face, getting a sniff of thyme.
"For a very long time, your kind has used the vampires for hard labor, and torture. What you call fun. We let you have your way. Now, there is something more unique about them that we have discovered. The healing powers of their blood. And you want to take this discovery from us."
"I take nothing from you. All we take here belongs to us."
"You just feel it wise to take the lion's share."
"The wolf's share," Luke said, the hint of a smile playing on his parched lips. "To be more narrowed."
"This isn't a joke, wolfman."
"In terms of who really needs the bloodsuckers, if you put our kinds on a seesaw, you do know that we would weigh much more, right?"
"Then you should train your men better," Mythia cynically suggested. "So they stop bleeding out on you."
"Your cutting remarks don't faze me, witch. I have made my decision. We shall take twenty of them and you shall take the remaining. Do what you wish with the dead ones. I assume that your black cauldrons have a good use for their body parts."
Mythia said nothing and proceeded to select her choice.
**********
It was another day to remember, for some. For others, one to die again. Each one of them is in a shroud of their broken cocoon. Vulnerable to the enemy. Unable to find traction on even their own familiar grounds. Their hearts wept for peace, in distorted beats that would only last for the moments they would say alive at the hands of their captors.
For some, they were born into the hunt. To witness and, if possible, flee from the beastly wrath of the lycanthropes, fueled by the order of the omniscient Zeus. And with such backing, to those who secretly knew, like the Elder Supremo, hope was getting slimmer with each ambush. He was trying everything he could. For years.
Apart from shooting mercury arrows at the werewolves or burning the witches on a fiery pike, there was nothing else to do in the manner of containing the alliance. No other way to face the formidable enemy that would just not stop.
It was a perpetual wonder what fate had in store for them or when their savior would come, as was prophesied and indicated in The Vampire Bible.
Some sort of Messiah.
According to the prophecy:
in times of hope drought
when the moon fails to mark
there shall be bitter suffering
and peace will be shrouded in the dark
dismay shall be thorough
amongst the hearts of them who drink
for reasons uncalled for
in the era of their pains
an emergence will come
with a Nosferatu from the ashes of the Phoenix
and will tell a different tale
that may bring back the peace between the triad kind
But the prophecy did not specify in which age, time, or era.
On the other hand, the werewolves had one of their own. It wasn't written in verses, but plain and direct.
It said:
a certain era shall give entrance to the downfall of the werewolves and their reign will be subjected to hers and she shall be the armor of the vampires
And as far as the witches were concerned:
awakening of the era of terror, doom awaits the witches
However, the triad knew. Each leader knew the interpretations of what the prophecies in their books read. There were times when the werewolves blamed the witches for their prophecy. But there was a principle that said that prophecies were not made by witches but by gods and goddesses.
That settled the question then.
However, the de facto question was, which prophecy will come to pass?