The Beginning of Hell

The night was remarkably clear in the vampire kingdom. The sky stretched like a velvet canvas of ebony, studded with stars that sparkled like lost diamonds. In the center of this celestial display, Dante floated silently, his figure surrounded by a faint aura of energy. His black cape swayed gently in rhythm with the nocturnal breeze. The silence around him was absolute but not empty; it carried the tension of something inevitable. 

Below him, Vlad's castle stood as an eternal sentinel, its gothic spires reaching defiantly toward the starlit heavens. The windows were dimly lit, their glow muted and pale, while a crimson radiance emanated from certain points in the structure, as though the castle itself pulsed with the essence of the vampires within.