There is no hell for what I am. The elders assured that when they conceived their plan. I have known death countless times. In the eyes of young vampires, in the whispers of dreams, I have taunted. I have seen the sun burn my host. Their fingers melt, their hair ignite, their bones snap and crack under their own weight. The lack of pain as they die, knowing that I could have saved them.
All I ask, all I have ever asked, is acceptance. A soul to take, to consume. I offer strength, power, the tools to ward natural death. In the world, I have been reduced to an apparition. A phantom that invades the living. Here, I am all. I am the creator, the sculptor of nightmares. The clouds above answer my whim, the sea below rises to my command. The blood in my world fuels me. It calls each new host with a unique glamor.
One day, soon, I will have the empire I have built here. Thought is the gateway to reality, and blood is my key.
Salas the Demon Vampire.
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