| History :
In the bowels of a forgotten country house, where the walls sweat with centuries-old damp and the air is heavy with the smell of iron and decay,
ƝαϮẏ ƮŦ Ѡɛsta began her sacred betrayal against death. She was the granddaughter of an Einherjar,
a bloodthirsty god-warrior whose name was whispered only in mortal terror.
But where her grandfather reduced kingdoms to ashes with swords of black steel,
ƝαϮẏ ƮŦ Ѡɛsta understood that true dominion does not come from destruction, but from possessing the soul.
The years in the quiet were a cold forge. ƝαϮẏ ƮŦ Ѡɛsta did not recruit soldiers;
she collected broken instruments.
The alchemist whose flesh slowly rotted away from forbidden poisons, the knight who had burned out his own eyes never to have to behold the grace of the sun again,
and the street children with teeth sharper than their minds.
They were the colorful dark souls, the outcasts of the world, whom she bound together with threads of blood and oath into a solid vampire house.
In the darkness of the cellars, she taught them the laws of the Realm.
She showed them that blood was not merely food, but a key. They mapped the hidden fault lines of the dimensions,
the places where the veil between worlds is so thin that one can hear the voices of the Old Entities.
ƝαϮẏ ƮŦ Ѡɛsta taught them when to kneel before the beings in the void and when to sink their teeth into the throat of fate.
Centuries later, the mansion is no longer a ruin, but a living organism of shadow.
The walls breathe along with the heartbeat of the Vampire House .
ƝαϮẏ ƮŦ Ѡɛsta still reigns, seated on a throne constructed from the remains of those who underestimate her.
Her people have become a family, forged in the furnace of shared sins and an unwavering pride.
A dark fire burns in the eyes of her subjects; they worship not the vampire, but the woman who made an invincible realm of their collective misery.
She is the Night Queen, and in her realm the sun never rises again.
The (TF) Twisted Flame Family and (DoM) Daughters of Magic family evolved:
As darkness and shadows spread across the land, ancient fears awaken,
fears of something more than death. In the heart of a Slavic village, creatures embody that fear.
But forget what Hollywood told you. Slavic vampires are not just pale nobles in cloaks.
We are restless souls, corrupted spirits of the dead, caught between this world and the next.
Our souls did not rest and our bodies rose, we emerged as Flames that took on different forms,
like the Twisted Flame, destroying all before it, yet granting grace and eternity.
When you say our name, do not imagine a charming aristocrat, imagine a disgruntled soul,
a restless dead man, a creature born of grief, revenge and ancient fear.
But our mythology lives in a gray area, our creatures are ordered symbolism, closely related to nature, death and the human soul,
and perhaps this is what makes us the most terrifying, because they were not created for fun, but out of faith.
However, we have expanded our faith, only the chosen ones are invited to the forest of the dead, where the goddesses
Moran and Westa sow death, fire and balance, but the goddess does not accept everyone.
From this enchanted forest, the invited never return, their souls wander among the crowns of these trees. But we listen to them with an evil smile.
In unpredictability and mystery, we have adapted from the ancient world to the modern world,
and unexpectedly we can be close to you. We are like a flame that keeps us alive,
in the dark we can warm or enchant you, we run from love, but we still love.
We can enchant you with our appearance and closeness, but beware of this beauty, anger and malice are hidden in it.
We can change your fate and cruelly mix among you with our charm.
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