Unsent. Unforgiven.
Elion Karsis,
You killed my son without knowing his name.
That is the first wound.
Not the death itself—death is abundant, and I have authored it often—but the ignorance. You reduced him to an obstacle, a variable to be cleared from your equation of endings. You did not see a lineage. You did not feel the consequence ripple through centuries of intention. You mistook absence of insignia for absence of meaning.
I will not grant you the dignity of grief. Grief implies loss without comprehension. I understand exactly what was taken from me.
My son was not meant to rule. He was not meant to replace me. He was a contradiction I allowed to exist because systems that cannot survive contradiction deserve collapse. He questioned the Night in ways you never will—quietly, without demanding the world end to satisfy his certainty. He sought continuance, not closure. You mistook that restraint for weakness.
You call yourself a champion of freedom. This is the lie you tell yourself to endure what you do. You do not liberate. You finalize. You confuse decisiveness with courage and annihilation with honesty. The Forever Night offends you not because it is cruel, but because it persists. You cannot tolerate a world that refuses to end on your terms.
You believe survival is secondary to outcome. This is the philosophy of those who cannot bear to live with unfinished things.
You were raised among records of failure and learned the wrong lesson. You saw humanity fracture and decided the solution was to shatter it completely, so that nothing contradictory could remain. You do not hate tyranny. You hate ambiguity. You hate futures that do not obey.
My son believed a system could be wounded without being erased. That tension made him dangerous to both sides. You resolved that tension with silver and fire, congratulating yourself for clarity.
Understand this: you did not kill him because you were strong. You killed him because he did not yet believe the world required erasure to be corrected.
You seek closure. I seek endurance.
You believe a final act will break the Night. You are wrong. You are merely composing a louder movement within it.
I will not hunt you in anger. I will not erase you in vengeance. That would validate your thesis—that only endings matter.
Instead, I will ensure you live long enough to see what your closure costs, and longer still to realize it did not end what you thought it would.
You wanted the Forever Night to finish.
Now it will remember you.
— Vlad Dracula