In the shadowed heart of Transylvania, a village long whispered of curses rests uneasily at the base of a hill crowned by the ruins of a castle. For generations, the villagers told tales of blood-drinking creatures who stalked the night, preying on the unwary. Strange disappearances and lifeless animals with drained veins haunted their past. Yet, the mystery endured—until a century ago, when a wildfire engulfed the royal family's castle on the hilltop.
That night, the heavens turned black, and the river ran red as blood. Birds screamed in the sky, animals wailed in terror, and the earth itself trembled. By dawn, the castle was ash, and the royal family vanished. The village's cursed days seemed over.
But peace does not last forever.
One night, a museum guard patrolling the castle ruins caught sight of a shadow moving among the half-burned paintings. At first, it seemed like a trick of the moonlight. Then, a figure—a man cloaked in darkness with a pale face and blood-red eyes—turned toward him.
"You know this place used to be the courtroom," the man said, his voice a velvet whisper that froze the guard in place. A cruel smile twisted his lips as he added, "Your world will end soon. We were fallen, but we will rise again. The end is nigh."
The guard's body betrayed him, moving of its own accord as the pale stranger led him through the charred hallways. The man spoke of the past—of laughter, power, and executions held in this very room. "Look down," he urged. The guard obeyed, and the stranger whispered, "Do you see the blood stains from centuries ago?"
Before the guard could react, the room filled with unearthly growls. Shadows moved, eyes gleamed in the dark, and his scream echoed through the ruins, shaking the entire village awake. The nightmare had begun anew.
Far from Transylvania, the Live family enjoyed a peaceful life in Vatican City. The calm of their world was about to shatter, though they didn't know it yet.
"Coming!" Riley, a little girl with boundless energy, dashed to the door as the bell rang. She opened it to reveal a stylish woman with dark sunglasses and a confident grin.
"How's my little sweetheart?" Kelly scooped Riley into her arms.
"Mom! Kelly's here!" Riley called as a woman with soft features descended the stairs, carrying a baby.
"Ready for the festival?" Kelly asked with a grin.
"You bet I am," the mother replied, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She handed the baby to Kelly and waved them off. "I'll be right behind you. Just need a minute."
The truth was, she wasn't thrilled about the day. Her husband, Oliver, had chosen to stay home instead of celebrating with the family. Once they were gone, she tried waking him, but he insisted on staying in bed. Frustrated, she stormed out, unaware of his plans.
Oliver, however, had been hiding his excitement. Once alone, he texted Kelly: *Thank you for helping me.* She replied, *Wish I had a husband like you, Oliver.*
It was their anniversary, and he had spent the entire day preparing a surprise dinner. As the clock struck evening, the house sparkled, the table was set, and Oliver waited eagerly. When the doorbell finally rang, he rushed to open it.
But no one was there.
The door creaked open behind him. The house, once warm with anticipation, now felt eerily cold. Oliver froze, sensing a presence. Turning slowly, he found three men clad in black ski masks and combat boots standing silently in the shadows. Before he could react, one swung a bat, and darkness claimed him.
When Oliver awoke, he was tied to a chair, his head throbbing and blood dripping down his face. The men encircled him, their laughter echoing as they took turns beating him. His wedding ring caught one intruder's eye. "I'll take it," the man growled, but the ring wouldn't budge. Frustrated, he pulled out a jagged dagger and severed Oliver's finger.
Oliver's scream tore through the air. The lights flickered, the wind howled, and the world seemed to shudder. Far away, in Transylvania, Dracula felt it. He stood at the window of his reclaimed castle, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.
"Welcome back, brother," he whispered.
The once-abandoned castle now thrummed with dark energy. Dracula sat on his throne, flanked by Cyclops and Baba Yaga. The court teemed with horrors: vampires, beasts, and creatures of shadow.
"Rest assured," Dracula declared, his voice echoing through the grand hall, "our reign of terror will rise again. With your support, no hunter, guardian, or council will stop us."
The Cyclops' single eye narrowed. "Where is your father's ring?" he demanded.
Dracula's gaze darkened. "I don't need a ring to conquer their world."
Cyclops sneered. "The armies obey the ring, not you."
Baba Yaga intervened, her voice silken. "Surely, our lord has it hidden away. Right?"
Dracula's jaw tightened. "Yes, I have it," he lied.
As the Cyclops departed, Dracula turned to Baba Yaga. "My brother stole the ring when he betrayed us for a human. She killed him, and they vanished. Without it, I cannot command the armies."
Baba Yaga smiled darkly. "Then we'll find it, my lord. The end is nigh."
The balance of the world had shifted. Evil had awakened, and the echoes of darkness began to stir once more. What lay ahead would test the strength of humanity—and uncover secrets long buried in the shadows.