"Two hundred and seventy-five years have passed since I last took a quill to parchment. And now, as time draws its long, gnarled fingers across the fabric of my existence, I find it imperative to chronicle the events that have led me to this juncture in the winding corridor of eternity.
Indeed, much has transpired in the span of two and a half centuries, and an additional one and a half decade. Of all that I have witnessed, few occurrences weigh upon my mind so heavily as the resurrection of Vladomar Shavira. The manner in which he has evaded the sanctified death of the undead and returned, time and again, through vessels of fresh blood, defies every law we once understood. It shakes the very foundations of what I believed to be true about the demise of our ancient vampire lineage.
To some, this might sound like fiction—fabricated musings born of a wandering mind. But I, a chronicler bound not by imagination but by brutal reality, find myself struggling to comprehend this impossible phenomenon. Still, I write not as a man of fantasy, but as one tethered to truth.
At present, I journey through the desolate and shadow-cloaked corners of the world, driven by an unyielding desire to uncover the knowledge, wisdom, and forgotten truths that might explain Vladomar's unnatural persistence. Along my path, I have encountered many—twisted remnants of what once were men—ghoulish blood-feeders whose very presence chills the marrow in my bones. They haunt my thoughts, a mindless horde that offers little but dread. And yet, none reveal the true extent of Vladomar's grand design.
His intentions remain partially obscured, yet what is known is enough to inspire terror: a world devoid of mortals, reborn as a dominion for the vampiric race. It is said he seeks to purge humanity, replacing the fragile species with those of immortal blood, and annihilate any who dare to oppose his vision.
To resist him has proven not only futile, but catastrophic. With every resurrection, his power has grown exponentially. The rest of us, the council of Vampire Elders, known in ancient tongues as The Noctaria—have dwindled in strength and in number. Once twelve in command, we are now but five, scattered across continents, each of us pursuing fragments of clues that may take another millennium to decipher. The other seven, sacrificed themselves in a dreadful battle to withold Vladamor's reincarnating abilities for millenniums to come. Although not a solution to stop him from ever reincarnating again.
Many among our order perished in a savage battle with the creature now revered by some and feared by all. Those of us who remain hide behind shadow and silence, following the whispers of the world, desperate for an answer.
In the aeons to come, before we eventually fade away as we have been weakend and will not live forever as immortals, we shall enact the final contingency—our last defiant breath against extinction. We shall merge our immortal souls with the progeny of pureblood hybrids, imbuing them with the wisdom of a thousand years, the strength of a thousand giants, and a lifespan that brushes the edge of infinity. Only then may they stand a chance to rewrite destiny, and in doing so, challenge the darkness that Vladomar has cast upon this world and will cast when upon this world when he returns, for his return is sure, The sacrifice of the dead members of the Noctaria, is unfortunately not strong enough to keep him dead forever".