Here is a tale with a little righteous fury, a dash of divine vengeance, and Day Walkers showing those bloodsuckers why they should fear the light.
The Fall of Blackthorne Keep
In the shadowed heart of 4EverMore, nestled between the cursed woods of Ebon Hollow and the forsaken ruins of Ravenspire, stood Blackthorne Keep.
Once a fortress of mortal kings, it had long since been claimed by the Vampires—a nest of Night Stalkers who reveled in the darkness, feeding on whatever unfortunate souls wandered too close. For centuries, the Keep remained untouched, its walls stained with the blood of the innocent, its halls echoing with cruel laughter.
Until the Day Walkers arrived.
They came as a whisper on the wind, moving through the night like ghosts of vengeance. Cloaks of midnight and armor kissed by the dawn, their very presence burned against the ancient stone.
At their head stood Lucian Vale, a Day Walker whose name sent shivers down even the coldest undead spines. His eyes gleamed like molten gold, his twin blades humming with the fire of the rising sun. Behind him, the Day Walkers stood—a dozen warriors with stakes carved from sacred ash, swords infused with celestial fire, and the unshakable certainty that they were the true predators this night.
Blackthorne Keep would fall before dawn.
The Vampires, arrogant in their centuries of dominion, did not notice their doom until the great iron doors burst open.
A storm of light and steel tore through the halls.
Lucian moved like a wraith, his blades slicing through the air, cutting through the undead like parchment. The first vampire lunged, fangs bared, but the moment it touched his skin—sizzle. Its flesh blackened, its eyes widened in horror before Lucian’s blade severed its head from its shoulders.
"Did you think the night would hide you?" Lucian’s voice was a dark promise, his smirk edged with something wicked.
Beside him, Selene Duskborn—a Day Walker as fierce as the storm itself—twirled through the carnage, her daggers gleaming with enchanted silver.
A vampire snarled, lunging for her throat.
She laughed.
A flick of her wrist, a slash of her blade, and the creature collapsed in a heap of dust.
"Pathetic," she muttered, stepping over its remains.
The battle raged through the halls, vampires shrieking as the Day Walkers cut through their ranks with deadly precision.
In the grand chamber, upon a throne of bone and shadow, Lord Malrik—the Vampire Lord of Blackthorne—watched his empire crumble.
Rage twisted his once-handsome face.
"You dare defy me?" he hissed, rising from his seat, shadows coiling around him.
Lucian strode forward, unshaken. "Oh, it’s not defiance, Malrik," he said, rolling his shoulders. "It’s eradication."
With a roar, Malrik lunged.
Lucian met him mid-air, their blades clashing, light against shadow. The air cracked with power, the sheer force of their battle shaking the very walls.
The Vampire Lord was fast—faster than any mortal eye could follow. But Lucian?
Lucian was faster.
He dodged a swipe of claws, ducked under a blast of shadow magic, then drove his blade straight into Malrik’s chest.
The Vampire Lord gasped.
Golden light flared from within, crawling through his veins, searing his undead flesh from the inside out.
Lucian leaned in close, voice barely above a whisper.
"Day always comes for the night, Malrik. You should’ve known that."
And with one final, brutal twist—
The Vampire Lord of Blackthorne burst into flames.
His scream shattered the silence, echoing through the Keep as his body turned to ash, his empire reduced to nothing but cinders.
By dawn, Blackthorne Keep was nothing more than a ruin, its halls purified by fire, its curse lifted.
The Day Walkers stood at its gates, their victory sealed, their message clear:
The darkness had ruled long enough.
And the light had come to collect.
⚫🕊️
