Darkness. Far older than the first vampire.
As infinite as the void of space, existing far beyond the measure of time.
But all too well banished by even the smallest candlelight.
What power was the light which dared to face its elder?


The raven flew high in to the night sky. It may have been strange for those attuned to the natural world, to observe such a bird active at such hours. Lady Mo perhaps would have found it assuming that Lord Bedivere chose this form, although it was not without thought nor reason. The raven was a symbolic bird, and perhaps those with some insight into the legends of the isle would smile as the Last Knight of Camelot took the form of a Raven as he had always throughout the history of Britannia. Put back against the black, his feathers of midnight were but faintly separate against the sky, only the rising moon and emerging stars dared revealed him from above. What accursed cosmic light from the heavens dare serenade this night of the vampire?

Even still, far greater than the dim glimmers of the pale stella-luna, were the great flames of battle and flash of powder. Chaos began, unfolding by the burning lights of flaming crucifixes and flambéed flesh. The screams of human suffering and torment woke the dead and undead the same, as by the evening the quiet earth stirred with the violence of man. There it was, man killing man for the sake of mankind, as another group had beaten the vampires to the honor of first blood. What was it now? Lord Bedivere took in the sight, his eyes sharpening at every figure and falling body. Dressed in armor, like the knights of yore, were one side, the fanatics he recalled, who perhaps were a splinter of the original SOLIDER. The Purge was it? A biblical cult of vampire hunters who thought themselves as humanity's last hope? By order of the Crown, Parliament and the Prime Minister, the Purge had been outlawed in the UK under the official ruling of being a militant religious extremist group. And what underground sect remained were offed by the werewolves. After all, it would be a terrible mistake to let such a group gain power in a vampire-run country.

What mockery of true knights. They were like the crusaders who split blood over their beliefs, while each sin would be stitched into their holier-than-thou souls. Who amongst men of their faith could absolve the wrongs of man? While man forgives his insolent dogs, will their Gods forgive them? They have killed each other over petty differences, while vampires kill them for substance as one species preys upon the other. They would never understand unless their cows begin to gore each other.

And as he flew, with every flapping flutter of dark and feathered wings, a darkness fell upon the battlefield. It lingered and twisted around, seeping down upon the earth as the lights of the flames began to die and they soon smolder away like burnt matchsticks. Unnatural lights provided by means of electricity too flicked and dimmed slowly until they became no more as the darkness spread slowly across like plague. Even the moon and stars became darkened, their lights no longer piercing the void as it crept along to swallow the light.

Nevermore, Nevermore. 
The victory of light is but scant few hours.
While Darkness shall reign eternal at the end of time.