"One pact. Three sons.Only one will survive.And the world will bleed beneath the crimson moon."
Preface I: The Ashes of a Name
Luciano Kerens never chose to be born among scars, but he learned to survive with them. Orphaned by war, he grew up stealing bread for himself and Kevs—his brother not by blood, but by hunger. In Esperanza del Ciervo, they called him reckless. The truth was harsher: he had nothing but desperation.
One night, he and Kevs discovered a crypt deep in the forest. Its walls, crumbling with age, hid cursed gold. They stole from it and bought a cabin near a convent. That was where Luciano met Beatrice, a novice with fragile smiles and tired hands. Their love grew in shadows, between stolen prayers and whispered vows.
When Beatrice carried his child, Luciano made his greatest mistake: he freed Azael, the demon sealed within the crypt, believing its power could protect them.
The girl was born with amber eyes and a silver medallion on her chest, marked with a lunar seal. But the convent saw only heresy. The mob burned her alive, and Luciano arrived too late. Beatrice hanged herself in despair.
Mad with grief, Luciano returned to the crypt—not to steal, but to beg.
"Take my soul," he cried to Azael, "but give her back to me!"
The demon only laughed, pointing at the medallion buried with the child.
"Your sons will fight until only one remains. And you, Luciano, will be their lash."
Green fire carved runes into his flesh, a brand of guilt and eternal servitude. Kevs, now Moira, fled with the medallion, his left eye glowing with the threads of fate.
Years later, Luciano became a vampire. He turned Noah into his unwilling shadow and burned Esperanza del Ciervo, thinking he held control. But the true master was always Azael.
In the flames, Sanathiel awoke—golden eyes carrying memories that were not his own, the medallion burning like a brand. He was no ordinary child, but the weapon of a prophecy bound to Luciano's sins.
Luciano watched from the shadows, the runes on his body pulsing with the same light in Sanathiel's chest. In the boy's gaze, he saw not just a curse, but the reflection of the daughter he could not save.
This is not the tale of a hero.
It is the confession of a man who traded scars for runes, love for fire, and his name for exile.
His original sin was believing love could redeem him.
His punishment is knowing that same love will burn the world through Sanathiel's golden eyes.
And as the green flames rose, Sanathiel opened his eyes, the curse of the White Wolf howling in his veins.