In 1917, they could not yet be called a family.
They were simply women who had been left without families, their homes burned to the ground. When the war between vampires and humans turned the world into a slaughterhouse, their clans had long since been wiped from the face of the earth. They had lost everything even before the first explosion thundered, carrying within themselves only the memory of their ancestors names no one remained to speak aloud. They did not choose this life. Existence between two immortal armies quickly taught them that neutrality was a death sentence. Cities burned, forests were torn out by the roots, and the soil absorbed so much blood that it grew heavy and crimson. When the battles finally fell silent, these women remained standing on land soaked with the flesh of their mothers and sisters. To leave would have meant betraying the past completely, and they had already lost too much. This land became both their burden and their oath. They buried what could still be laid to rest and built directly atop what could not be buried. Stone and iron rose from soil that remembered every scream. They named this place West. To them, it became a kind of stronghold, a new clan, and a line the enemy would never cross again. The family grew from those who came out of ruins and skirmishes that never made it into the history books. Vampires, humans there were no castes here. They quickly understood that survival required adaptation. It was an age of steel and gunpowder. They did not play at being knights; they took up rifles, mastered blueprints and mechanisms of their era, and turned ordinary weapons into something far deadlier. Old magic intertwined with engineering thought. Technology was not feared vampires swiftly learned to wield new devices, weaving them directly into the defensive systems of their lands. The red stretch of soil was a scar of war, and they left it untouched. Nothing is built there, nothing is planted. It stands as a reminder of their ancestors and their kin. Today, West does not seek to conquer territories. It grows inward, becoming stronger with each passing day. Every generation adds something of its own: more refined weapon mechanisms, quieter shots, stronger walls and shields. They defend their land and their past.

And as long as this red earth remains with them, the family will stand remembering everything that has happened to them.

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