I, Silas Griffin, died two hundred and forty-two years ago.
It did not, however, happen the way you might think. Unlike many other unfortunate souls, I was not the victim of a vampire attack. No, I forsake my human life willingly. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I had rushed toward it, embracing the unknown doom. I was so young and foolish, selfish even. Over the years, I have found myself questioning the real reasons why I had chosen this path.
Do I regret it now, you may wonder? I do not, not anymore.
A bloodthirsty beast first opened its crimson red eyes in the winter of 1720.
The new cursed Silas Griffin, a vampire.
Welcome to my story.