Prologue

Third perspective.

Cinders and embers rose from the ashes of countless perished vampires. The sky was dark, clouded with smoke. The land was disfigured from countless battles. Shouting and yelling and the sounds of clashing blades and gunfire prevailed over the dreaded screams of the defeated and the dying. Missiles touched down in the distance, deafening the ears of all those nearby and ending the lives of hundreds in a split second. It seemed there was no end to the warring in sight.

There were two sides. One side fought for the freedom of humans, and the other against. It was not obvious as to who the winning side was--chaos and destruction was everywhere. That was, until a valiant vampire in all black lifted up his sword straight toward the sky and chanted a spell that caused the sky to open up, revealing the harsh sun above the clouds. The spell instantly caused this vampire to burn slowly to a crisp, and all the while he prayed to the creator that the war would end. Black embers started consuming his flesh at his limbs and gently moved up toward his body. His face was the last to be burnt. After that, he perished in a cloud of ashes with the roaring wind.

All the vampires clad in white were eradicated instantly. The winning side, though, wore black, and they were immune to daylight. They called themselves the Union of Black, but back in the old days they called themselves… The Wandering Vampires.