Carpathia 2059

Written by BellaDonna De Wolf

In 2024, the world changed. Just as life had begun to feel normal again from the last wave of the pandemic, and the innumerable human wars that always pulled us in every direction… Another, more sinister and sentient kind of blight began to stir.

Now don't get me wrong, vampires had been living amongst us for as long as human memory remained. Evidenced by the uncanny valley, and the stories of blood drinking, flesh eating monsters in every culture. As far back as we have record, humans have feared beasts that look like us, but feast on our flesh. They lived in the shadows. Blending into society, quietly gaining power, wealth, and status to buy their way through time and history.

It all changed in 2024, as the prophecies those blood drinkers whispered of began to come true. Their hidden world was called Carpathia. A vast network of hidden cities filled with insatiable vampires, waiting for their saviors… A place for the old ones to keep the young and unruly in line. Designed to keep the monsters out of sight out of mind of the human public. Afterall, who really believed in vampires anymore?

Looking back on it now, it's impossible to imagine how blind we all were. So eager to believe in the mundane, become absorbed in our own little lives and our use of technology. Distraction and apathy would be our undoing… Not the glorious end I wish I could report to you. As of the time of this writing, it is now 2059 and the world at large has become Carpathia. A wasteland painted in the vampire's own image, hungry, bright, beautiful, and wholly deadly.

Carpathia, where once bustling cities now lay in ruins and ash, the vampiric blight had reshaped the world. Bringing humans to their knees under the pressure of the Dread Five. Leaving the blood thirsty elite at the pinnacle of society, and even their mad spawn eclipsing human leaders. As I have been tasked to record our story, I suppose that I should tell you about them… The wretched prophesied leaders or our downfall.

The prophecies of the vampires were so old, even humans knew parts of the tale. Though, they did not understand its context or meaning. It had been ripped from its original intent, and applied to new sources. Humans thought the riders at the end of times would be a sign from god, a cruel end planned by an omnipotent god to crush his unfaithful creation. A second coming of their savior, the christ. However, it was no omnipresent god… It was the beings that had lived alongside us all this time, whispering of their own twisted saviors. If the beasts of Apocalypse had names, they were lost when they became bloody saints and vile omens to their death god.

Plague was the first of the Dread Five. When they arrived, the spread of the vampiric contagion developed with ruthless efficiency. Where it used to take someone being carefully tended to be successfully turned, now any contact with blood contaminated with Plague’s gift, was sufficient to turn someone. It reduced the human population to a mere shadow of its former self, and bolstered the vampiric ranks with countless spawn. All twisted with Plague’s unique rot, and tendency for madness.

Famine followed, exploiting the weakened survivors. Their gift was to raze land, and be a blight upon the crops. Pushing the people to the brink of desperation as resources dwindle. The elite tightened their grip, in the guise of a loving embrace. Humans who wished to survive could surrender, and be reduced to pets in the homes of the masters. Kept safe from the masses of wild vampire spawn, their needs tended to with the supplies that the empire had been collecting and managing for centuries. But surrender could not be so sweet, humans would be kept and farmed as food themselves.

War, the most cunning strategist, emerged next. Those who would not surrender, and become pliant to the empire of the vampire faced her wrath. Orchestrating battles that strengthened the vampire forces and crushed any semblance of resistance among the surviving humans. The land became a battlefield, stained with the blood of those who dared to defy the rising crimson tide.

Death, the penultimate of the Dread Five, enforced the reign of terror, and solidified their power. Her cold and calculating demeanor struck fear into the hearts of both vampires and humans alike. For in the end, all things came to her, even immortals. Her true gift was that of darkness, shrouding the capital and strengthening the vampires within its borders even during the day. She paved the way for the arrival of The Emperor, the malevolent ruler known as Aamon, apocalypse in flesh.

Under the iron fist of the Dread Five, Carpathia succumbed to a dark and bloody rule. Each rider paving the way for the malevolent emperor Aamon, the god to their unholy sainthood. Aamon ascended to power, proclaiming himself their sovereign. No one dared oppose him. With the riders loyal to him alone, he was nearly impossible to reach. Even if someone did manage to bypass them, if his powers were to be believed, he was a god among vampires.

His decrees echoed through the shattered remnants of civilization. All bent the knee. What choice was left as the empire imposed their will upon the world at large. They reveled in their lavish lives. Vowing to never return to the shadows and dregs so long as Apocalypse reigned on this dark throne. 

Thirty five years passed by. Long enough for humans to think this was just the way of things. Long enough for the vampires to still be reveling in their rule. Just long enough, for them to grow prideful, and a bit careless.

For in the midst of this nightmarish reality, a small group of human rebels rose up from the ashes. Known as Dawn's Hope, emerged. United by the pure determination to reclaim their world, they sought to unravel the mysteries of the vampire blight, and discover a way to restore humanity's sovereignty. The fate of Carpathia hung in the balance, with the battle between survival for humans and vampiric eternal night unfolding in the shadows.

Sol, became a symbol of defiance and resilience, stood at the forefront of Dawn's Hope. Her existence was born from the forbidden union between vampire and human. Unheard of for such a thing to happen, but her nature granted unique abilities. She operated in the shadows. Became a Wraith, those capable of hunting the very creatures that sought to subjugate her people. Fierce and unyielding, she was both feared and revered among her allies and enemies alike.

Haunted by her own dual nature, Sol did everything in her power to deny her vampiric blood right. Freeing the oppressed human forces without relying on her preternatural gifts. Yet, her hybrid identity is what made her the key to unraveling the reign of the bloody saints and vile god. Potentially capable of reversing the devastation that had befallen Carpathia.

As the leader of Dawn's Hope insurgent group, Sol secretly spearheaded an operation. A daring raid against the vampires’ strongholds, gradually chipping away at the Dread Five's dominion. Her rebel forces' persistence stoked the embers of all out war. Whispers of that rebellion reached the capital of the Wraith who walked the night, living up to her name terrorizing the vampire overlords. Her unmatched combat skills struck fear into the hearts of those who had once believed themselves invincible.

Aware of Sol's significance, The Dread Five feared she may be the only human capable of ending their reign of blood. Whispers of a human prophecy spread, foretelling of a savior who would bring about the downfall of the empire of the vampire. Her fate, and the faith of her people, is an incredibly heavy burden for anyone to bear.

It all ends tonight. All the world watched with bated breath, would the gods fall or would the fires of rebellion be turned to ash?

One way or another, the world will change on April 28th, 2059.

In the halls of Aamon’s keep, a party raged. The Church, once a holy place, now home to the wicked and vile. Where the sanguine masters drank, danced, and lavished in the spoils of their inordinately long lives of cruelty and ill-begotten wealth. Little did they know, the Wraith awaited them. Too deep in their cups, and bloody delights. No one expected such a brazen attack as Sol crept into the keep.

Sol's blades drugged along the stone as she stalked through the blood-soaked corridors of the Carpathian keep. Every step she took was fueled by the cries of those who had suffered under the Dread Five's rule. She would make them pay, no matter the cost. She would make them pay for every life that had been ruined and squandered in the name of pointless violence and luxury.

She came crashing through the doors as she entered the throne room. The stench of blood and wine hitting her was so thick, it was an effort to not choke. Across the sea of debauched delights and horrors, their eyes met for the first time as the clock struck midnight. The Wraith and Apocalypse himself locked in a moment of silence and stillness as every immortal froze in her presence. Every human eye turned to her, gleaming with the sparks of hope.

In a whirlwind of violence, Sol and Aamon threw everything they had into their battle. Tearing apart the once-hallowed halls as sparks flew and blades clashed. Blood trickling through the tiled floor, carving rivers of crimson through the once holy site. The air crackled with their raw and unbidden power. Sol's unbowed will clashed against Aamon's unholy might, but he was gaining the upper hand. Pressed to her knees by the dais. She had no choice left. Embrace her nature, her birthright of blood, or die on her knees. Her eyes alight with unholy rage, she raised her blade to her lips. Tasting the blood of Aamon, and thus unlocking the monster within her veins.

Sol unleashed herself, she let the power flow through her. Gave herself over to that which she feared, all for those she loved. A world worth saving beyond the claws of the empire.

With a final sweeping blow, the once-mighty emperor collapsed at her feet. His lifeblood spilled like any other man… A girl had killed a god. Sol rose from the ashes and blood, her resilience forged in this crucible of blood.

The empire of the vampire crumbled as the news of Ammon’s true death spread through the ranks. Sol, bloodied and battered, took to the throne. A new queen rising, not a god, but a girl who fought for freedom no matter the cost. Raising the bloody crown high over her head, she rang in the end of the dark reign. Carpathia, once a symbol of despair, now witnessed the dawning of a new era. 

The royal halls, once tainted by the malevolence of the Dread Five, now rang out with the triumphant cries of freedom from those once bound. Sol gazed out upon the city she had liberated, her people and in that moment, as the sun broke over the horizon for the first time in her life, she found solace.

There would be much rebuilding, but the scars of the vampire apocalypse serve as a testament to the resilience of those who dared to defy the night. With the love of her people, Sol knew they could rise and face this new dawn, and any other challenge so long as they stood together.