In 1700, Victor Monfret, fresh off of selling Rah’s stolen plantation in Haiti, set his sights on the American colonies. A young continent, expanding by the year, offered him a chance to root himself in a rising world.

In the Hive, tensions simmered like a sealed cauldron ready to burst. Time had blurred into something shapeless. A fevered stretch of darkness with no escape, no hint of the outside world, packed tight beneath the earth.

Crash landing on Earth long ago, Elizabeth, when she was still just Ezath, wanted nothing to do with the endless feud between Rah and Anu. Fighting over mankind’s future, one preaching cultivation, the other domination.

Sometimes survival demands strange alliances. Especially in the dark, partnerships are never born from trust. They’re carved only from desperation...from the thin line between vengeance and survival.

With their pawns in motion, the game was set for Victor and Royce. Not necessarily allies, but opposing players sharing a single goal, to remove the queen from the board, or tilt the illusion of order in their favor...

You could say, a family business is an inheritance of purpose. A trade not merely taught, but embedded in the bloodstream, carried forward like instinct. Each generation refines what the last began, shaping craft into creed.

The Great Vampire War was never about single battles, but campaigns spanning decades, where ambition and vengeance set three sides on a collision course. Elizabeth Jovan rose with fury after the death of her husband.

War doesn’t move in straight lines. It coils, doubles back, punishes those who think they’ve cornered their enemy. By the 1990s, the Great Vampire War had fractured, time and again.

With Victor Monfret erased, the Great Vampire War didn’t shrink, it sharpened. Two titans remained, the last of the ancient blood, circling each other like storms destined to collide.

Some wars end in fire. Others in silence. The Great Vampire War unfolded in fragments, from blood spilled long ago. But the long night tightened.