In the dark ages, where the shadows of evil still linger between the spaces of the stars in the night sky, and of where the moon still was the eye of those who hunt for flesh and blood, a horrifying war between vampires, werewolves and humans was breathing alive in the air. Evil was at war with itself. It was a battle of power, territory, and survival and life in those blinded years meant nothing to those who live but a trophy to be taken away from those they are against with.
Inside the mournful forest, two figures were moving fast, as if trying to escape from a loop hole where hell has builds its kingdom walls. They ran as far and as fast as they can heading away from the heart of the war, trying not to look back, trying not to doubt. They never stopped running, never stopped getting their selves away from what was real, until they found their selves inside of the darkest part of the forest, until they found their selves lost in the darkness of their own deeds and sins, until they found their selves in the point of no return.
