~ Prologue ~     Long ago, in the most treacherous and unforgiving region of medieval France lurked a dark power that pulsated and spread an evil, frightening spirit of death through the land.  Atop the steepest, most jagged mountain reigned an illusive family of damned creatures that lived and were the essence of night and darkness itself.  There’s was a forgotten castle of cold, crumbled stones covered in thick ivy against the sharp cliffs, away from that bright orb that was the sun, the enemy of the castle’s inhabitants.  A constant mist of clouds embraced the castle in a shroud of mysteries none not by any mortal.
     The menacing, deadly acts of these creatures upset greatly the people of the nearby town that lay at the foot of the forbidden mountain.  For you see, these creatures that lurked and terrorized the night were not faery tale monsters or improbable poltergeists; they were a family of highly feared vampires that lived together in the castle just above the town where they continually satisfied their thirst for young blood.
     The great ‘parents’ of the family had currently been walking the Earth for about 700 years.  In all actuality, they were not literal parents at all, they were highly devoted sires that together had created four vampires by drinking their young victims’ blood and having them drink in turn from them.  The four they had created in life had had no knowledge of each other, but once they had been transformed into the children of the night, their sires had taken them in, adopted them to form the family that lurked in that dark castle.
    The children of these sires were three females and one male.  The females were all young, pale and beautiful with hair long, some of it dark like the night, and possessed the ability to convince their male victims into doing their gruesome bidding after the direction of their sire mother.  The son, however, was the one that was perhaps the most feared by the people, although any member of the family could make a person faint with terror.
    He was the youngest, at a mere 227, and the one endowed with the most charisma and charm that, even added together, the others did not fully posses.  This young vampire was created long after his ‘sisters’ and would be the last the sires would create.  His skin was almost pure white, with no blemish or discoloration of any kind that would disrupt the fair smoothness of it.  He stood fairly tall and very thin with lean, strong muscles that covered his bony frame.  Black, claw-like nails emerged from his long, slender fingers into sharp points.  His mouth always had an amused-looking, but softly melancholy grin upon it as if he was hiding a joke he would never share with any others.  Inside that mouth were the tools for which he created doom; two white, razor sharp fangs that greedily drank the life from his many innocent victims.  His hair was a dull gray, the color of a placid lake under the mysterious shining of a silver full moon.  It was shagged into all different lengths, settling around his face in a frame that usually hung before his eyes.  And those eyes, the most stunning of his features.  Beauty and mystery were there’s, precariously captured inside two striking crimson, blood red eyes that seemed deeper than the ocean and more magnificent than the stars.  Thin black slits were the pupils of his eyes, a characteristic unique to him in his family.  And that was he, the son that was praised and honorable to the vampires.  He was their prince and he was named Lazsaivre...

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