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This was from a fictional form of history, I dreamed about the Blood War, a time where the vampires and werewolves hatred had peaked, and war followed, killing millions of them.
I was a vampire full-blood, born to Dracula himself, and his wife Sharon. We were a small family, only five members, none bitten, all biologically born to Dracula. Vanessa, my sister, was very beautiful with red curls that bounced when she ran. Aaron, my brother, was a strong lad with Black-Brown hair, russet eyes, and a strong demeanor. Me, the middle child, had brown hair, like my mother, I shared all of her features, from the brown, straight locks, to the flawless cheekbones and slight jut in the jaw. We lived in a house that was crafted of the best masonry, boasting four floors. The war had hardly touched us, until the fateful day when Lucien, a werewolf of considerable strength and cunning came to our home, offering peace. My father was always the diplomat in the war, and the werewolf had managed to trick him into taking a gift from him, the finest blood. He accepted the gift graciously, little did we know, it was poisoned. My mother and I were the first to taste it, and no ill effect showed at first, the poison was supposed to work after forty eight hours. My father and siblings never had a chance to try it, we all went out that night. The day after next, Lucien made his strike. They poured over the hills in a torrent that surged through our guards. Taken by surprise, they fell easily. When his men managed to get into our rooms, we were ready, all five of us. We attacked them together, staying in a close-knit group. Each one of us must have killed at least one hundred wolves that day. Lucien managed to foresee the effects of the poison, and me and my mother fell, with our bodies slowly dying. I remember seeing Vanessa fall soon afterward, I was to protect her left flank, and I was unable to. Aaron and Dracula were the only ones standing, they fought and killed with a malice unseen before, Aaron was next to fall, his throat was slashed by one of the werewolves of Lucien. My eyes and sight were fading at this time, and my father continued on alone, his back to the wall. My vision died when he finally fell, overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies he had to face. I woke in my room, feeling weak and unrested.