King of the Shadow Throne

He sat in the darkness of his hall, alone. This barren castle with the memories screaming in perpetual darkness, he sat brooding on the centuries, his losses, his wasteful onslaught that brought nothing as reward. Wreaking havoc just because he could, in the past his bloodlust and anger were legendary. Countless lives laid waste by his hand, millions of people drained for his sustenance. This Knight of death once almost destroyed civilization, but with many victories came many sorrows. Armies rose against him, and armies fell, at one point in time he was unstoppable. Dracula, The King of the Shadow Throne, The Elder Immortal, Lord of all Vampire. As he reflected on his past, sitting in his dark hall alone, the world outside past by without a notice. The dawn never touched the interior, it only darkened the shadows and cast a dreary, ever-present mist over most of the ground. The cursed land for miles around his castle that laid at the base of two enormous mountains whose names have been lost in time, like it’s lord, lost in the deep pages of history, no longer a myth or legend, forgotten entirely.

In times unknown Dracula was feared and spoke about only in private whispers. Now he stays in the dilapidated castle unable to feel the sweet embrace of eternal sleep. Before becoming the King of the Shadow Throne, Dracula was once a Knight of renown. Known throughout the realm as the Knight of the Mountains for his will was unbreakable. He had morals and values, honor and selflessness, a man of good. Until he was betrayed and tricked into becoming a walking nightmare, by his own flesh and blood. His brother stood by his side for years only living in his shadow. Envy filled his brothers' heart, then hate became dominant. His brother kidnapped his wife and fled into a cave in the mountains, unbeknownst to Dracula, he made a deal with a god of malice that if he betrayed him, he would gain immense power. Of course, making a deal with the god of malice came at a cost that was not known. Dracula gave chase into the hollow for fear of his love, upon finding his brother with a knife to his wife’s throat, he tried to negotiate. Laughing at his brothers’ groveling he sneered “You fool, I want nothing from you, only to see you suffer and that smug, prideful look being wiped off your face,” at that moment he slit his wife's throat.

Overcome with grief, Dracula went into a rage and attacked with impunity and ended up slaying his brother out of hate. The god of malice immerged with a wicked smile “Fantastic, Truly a work of art and poetry, brother slays brother, a favorite of mine, he was going to get power for slaying you, but I knew he would fail, for your sin of slaying your brother out of hate, you shall never age, and never die but you will not live either, you will have to drink others to survive but oh the power you will wield,” As his dark void of a laugh echoed in the damp cave the shadows got thicker as they sprang out holding his arms and legs, a mass of shadow crept towards him, writhing in the mist as if a living thing, it encompassed his entire body as it pulled him down into the shadowy void. The screams from that cave that day echoed through the valley piercing through the hills and into the surrounding villages causing panic and fear. Dracula, stuck in the void, changed, his mind broke and was remade entirely, memories remained but something else was added. A darkness rooted into his very soul, he emerged years later as Dracula the first vampire. The First Immortal.