The present day, within the hallowed halls of The Death Family estate, and inside a forbidden dark room.... However, a single light from a candle, its eerie glow casting unsettling shadows, illuminated The Darkspade, searching for something... He kneels to retrieve the candle and shines it on an old painting of yesteryears..... 
Darkspade's eyes glowed white as he held the candle close to the oil painting — witnessing the aura of The Unholy Darkness, and the alliance with his former master brought back memories... days of untold terrors.
Circa 1999. The Creatures of the Night have risen and made their presence known throughout the world as their Lord of Darkness mysteriously disappeared.
Radiant in its terrible beauty, the darkness stirred with ancient intent—its pulse echoing through the mist of forgotten realms. From the cold, dead aura of a purple fog, The Unholy One emerged, shrouded in dread and glory. Around him gathered the Heels of Mortis—Hellcat with her eyes of flame, Necrophilia cloaked in the scent of death, the Lady of Darkness whispering prophecies of ruin, and Dalkiel, the Demon Prince of Sheol, whose very breath corrupted the air.
When the moon split open, the night’s vile progeny poured forth—vampires, wraiths, and other hungry shadows. But the Heels of Mortis descended upon them like divine plague. With unholy precision, their powers scorched the void: flames of torment, shrieks of the damned, and waves of necrotic fire tearing the creatures asunder.
And amidst the carnage stood Darkspade—the Unholy Minister—whose evil unholy aura devoured all light with a long staff —the Staff of Mortis, adorned by a magnificent dark crystal embedded in its very tip.
The Unholy One grasped the fast-approaching leader of the group, a Vampire Lord, by its throat, the creature’s scream dissolving into mist before his wrath. With a cruel twist, Darkspade tore its head from its wretched form, crimson mist spilling into the night.
And then, suddenly, the Earth rattled, the darkness of the Unholiness sliced deep into the atmosphere —and from it emerged a portal swirling with the cries of wayward souls... an eight-foot demonic monster... ALL of the Heels of Mortis stopped and bowed as their Lord made his presence well known.
Darkspade knelt before his mentor, Lord Mortismere, and raised the severed head as an offering.
The fog trembled. Shadows whispered. The Unholy Lord smiled.
"My Unholy Pawn. What offerings is this?"
[Darkspade was about to reply- Mortis swipes the severed head and looked into its still twitching eyelids]
".... and you call this an offering?"
[Mortis incinerates the head and raises Darkspade into the air with a mere thought]
Off to the side, The Demon Prince, Dalkiel, walks in-front of Lord Mortis, then kneels
Dalkiel: "My Lord… we are still committed to your Unholy cause. This is just the first of many sacrifices. The night yet hides its congregation, and we—your Heels—have found their sanctuary."
(voice like a storm breaking stone) "You speak of sanctuary, yet I smell hesitation. Their filth stains this realm. Why do they still draw breath?"
Dalkiel: "Because, O Lord of the Unholy Darkness, a single harvest is never enough to poison the field. We shall reap them all, each wretch crying your name before silence takes them. The offering before you is merely the opening verse. Your chosen champion, The Unholy Minister- The Darkspade, was carving but a path to their treachery....."
(Mortismere's eyes gleaming faintly beneath the hood, yet, the demon is calmer)
Mortismere: "And you are certain of their refuge [stares at Darkspade and then drops him to the ground]? I will not be made a fool of by ghosts and whispers."
Dalkiel: The mists themselves trembled when we approached, my Lord. The Creatures of the Night may coil together, but they are weak. Their hunger is our beacon to follow —and devour. Their fear has already begun to speak your name, and they wish to follow your teachings. To those that fail to follow- they will be destroyed.
Mortismere: (a slow, rasping exhale) "Good… let them whisper. Let their fear ferment into despair."
Dalkiel: "It shall be done, my Lord. The next dawn will never rise upon them."
Mortismere: "There will be no dawn… only MY will. [stares at Darkspade rising slowly with the Staff of Mortis] You have been granted passage to continue under my command. GO! Find these Creatures of the Night- so that we shall save or sacrifice. Hear me, Darkspade. For I am your beginning and the end, follow me into eternity."
[The Unholy One nods]
"In darkness name...."
All: So be it.
Back at Death Family Estate.
Lightning and thunder are crashing outside, the sound reverberating through the ancient walls of the castle —a series of window shutters slam against the open windows, the wind howling through the empty corridors —water splatters on decayed furniture, the once opulent room now a shadow of its former self —enter Charon of Death, armed with a blue fire emitted from her right hand, illuminating the infinite, eternal darkness.
Charon, her eyes frantically scanning the room, is on a mission to find her father. She finally spots him, unconscious on the floor, the candle he used now lying on its side. Without a moment's hesitation, Charon rushes to his side and lifts him up. In a sudden shift, the scene dissolves into Darkspade, the object of her search, lying across his Victorian bed, creating a disorienting sense of mystery.
Charon was seated off to the side on the bed with her father- Darkspade finally opens his eyes to see her....
Charon Death: Dad. Are you okay? What happened to you?
[Darkspade failed to say a thing... instead, he tried to muster enough strength to rise from the bed, but his strength faltered, and he dropped back down - his crown lay on the pillow.]
Charon Death: Dad. You are beginning to scare me. It is unlike you- I... I... I can feel the Unholy Darkness again, and it has happened ever since you have been using that mirror to travel to other worlds. Tomorrow I am going to have it destroyed.
[Darkspade's face lights up, more in rage than a shared concern]
"NO YOU CANNOT.... YOU MUST NOT.... YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED!!!.... I MUST DEVOUR MORE OF HIM"
The thunder and lightning raged in synchrony with Darkspade's cries! Charon rose to her feet, shaking her head. She turned and then suddenly. Lights OUT......
The scene reforms like smoke taking shape.
Charon sits bound to a chair—her movements restless, as though the air itself writhes with her. A trembling breath escapes her lips before her senses begin to dim again.
In the distance, through the shimmer of distortion, stands Darkspade before a mirror that should not exist. Its surface quivers like liquid shadow, and within it—something else watches back. The Unholy Knight of Darkness.
A fragment of a greater abyss.
A fraction of his blood.
A reflection not meant for mortal sight.
Then the world folds inward.
Sound, sight, and struggle collapse into blackness.
Charon sinks once more beneath the weight of dreamless sleep.
**FADE**