[14 years ago]
The night air was frigid as Vlad emerged from the underground sanctuary. He stepped onto the desolate grounds of what was once Castle Dracula. The once-majestic fortress lay in ruins, charred and broken. Ashen remnants of his life's work whispered the bitter tales of destruction, a somber elegy for his past.
Vlad's eyes bore witness to the desolation, his heart heavy with grief and rage. The marauders who had perpetrated this atrocity were no ordinary bandits; their cruel intent was evident in the thoroughness of their destruction.
Flames had devoured the grand halls where he had shared meals with his beloved Elisabeta, and the echoes of their laughter seemed impossibly distant. The courtyard, once filled with the vibrant colors of flowers, lay in a barren and blackened state, mirroring the emptiness that had overtaken his heart.
As he surveyed the devastation, Vlad's thoughts swirled in a tempest of anger. The source of this calamity had to be rooted out, vengeance exacted, and justice served.
But where should he begin? The culprits had left behind no obvious clues, and his thoughts were a tumultuous storm of despair. He descended the stone steps, each one taking him deeper into the abyss of his emotions.
A mournful howl sounded in the distance, a wolf's cry, a lonesome companion to his sorrow. The moon, a pale sliver in the night sky, watched over him, casting a silvery glow upon the smoldering ruins of his estate.
A nameless fury welled within him as he reached the castle's main gate, which had been torn asunder by the raiders. He could feel the presence of the cultists behind this calamity, but their motives remained enigmatic, like shadows in the night.
As he scoured the remnants of his life, he stumbled upon a scorched painting. The image it held was one of happier times—a portrait of Elisabeta, her radiant smile frozen in time. Vlad retrieved it and held it close to his chest, the tears in his eyes merging with the soot stains on the canvas.
"Elisabeta," he whispered, his voice barely a breath in the silent ruins. "I will avenge you."
Vlad's thoughts turned to the mysterious figure who had bestowed upon him the dark artifact, the instrument of his transformation into a vampire. He knew not their motives or their affiliation with the cult.
In a fit of determination, he set out on the path to unearth the truth, to seek answers, and to find the raiders responsible for this heinous act. His boots echoed on the cobblestone path as he left the remains of his castle behind, the memories and the pain that now clung to it like an indelible curse.
He journeyed through the forest, shadows of trees playing tricks on his mind, whispering secrets of the night. The air grew colder, and the world was cast in shades of silver by the moon's glow. Vlad could feel the ancient presence of the supernatural forces that inhabited Wallachia, a land both beautiful and ominous.
His path led him to a clearing where he spotted a lone figure standing among the trees. It was the same enigmatic figure who had given him the dark artifact. The stranger's eyes glinted with an otherworldly intelligence, and a sly smile played on their lips.
"Ah, Vlad Dracula," the figure purred, their voice a velvet caress. "You seek vengeance, and I can provide the means."
Vlad's heart was a tempest of emotions as he confronted the figure who had set him on this dark path. It was clear that the answers he sought lay within the knowledge of the cult, and he had no choice but to forge an unholy alliance.
"Tell me everything," Vlad demanded, his eyes burning with a relentless determination. "Who are you, and what do you know of the cult responsible for my suffering?"
The figure's smile widened, revealing glistening fangs. The dance between dark and darker had only just begun.