Dear Diary…
Another day in my so-called vampire life. So, what’s new today? Besides Papa anxiously awaiting and panicking about tonight’s big execution—the highest-profile one in all of New Transylvania—not much. It’s not exactly a thunder-and-black-cloud kind of day, just a soft, dreary gray.
Papa is convinced I should be a perfect replica of him: gloomy, cynical, angry, evil, brutal, and sinister. Every time he looks at me, it’s like he’s checking for cracks in the mould, expecting disappointment. On the other hand, my mother wants what’s best for me—whether that means a life full of doom and despair… or maybe even (dare I say it?) something that begins with H and ends with Y.
But, of course, joy is forbidden. The Nocturnal Scripts are very clear. Blood Verse MMXI warns us that “to be joyful is to show disdain for DracuLord and his son, King Dracula.” It’s a betrayal not only of our ancestors but also of our Creator himself. Feeling anything remotely close to happiness isn’t just dangerous—it’s heretical.
I’m not saying I feel joy exactly, but I am feeling… excited. Tonight is the season finale of Satan’s Vault. It airs every new moon on CeDracu 1—our state's last remaining TV station. Before the Brothers Dracula seized power, various channels, shows, and ideas floated around. That’s how I first learned about werewolves and caught Dr. Noapte’s infamous interview, which got him arrested and sentenced to liquidation in the “Bright Chair.”
But when the Brothers took over, they shut it all down. Every channel was silenced overnight. Anyone who tried to resist was shipped off to NightShade—the most feared prison in the land. No one ever comes back from NightShade. Thousands were arrested and charged with Trădarea Sângelui—which in ancient Romanian means “Betrayal of Blood.” After the Great Vampire Awakening, the Brothers erased every scrap of Romanian history, renaming the crime to its translated form. It was like they wanted to scrub out the past entirely, to bury everything that came before them.
Somehow, though, Satan’s Vault survived. The Brothers decided the show didn’t break the Nocturnal Scripts’ rules. Joy must be purged from society, but Satan’s Vault is grim enough to pass their standards.
The show is filmed in an ancient vault beneath an abandoned hotel in what used to be the capital of Ancient Romania—Bucharest. The old vault has its own dark history, filled with metal deposit boxes holding the souls of those who’ve lost the game. The vault can store up to 1,100,921 souls; from what I’ve heard, most of those boxes are already full.
The city itself is divided now. Old Town belongs exclusively to the vampires, while werewolves and a shaky alliance of other Balkan creatures control the rest of Bucharest’s seven sectors. It’s a tense arrangement, and no one is in charge outside Old Town. But in the vault—down there under the flickering lights—it’s Satan who rules.
The show's premise is simple: desperate souls seek a deal with the devil. They arrive at the vault with nothing—broke, ruined, hoping to trade whatever’s left of their soul for wealth, power, or salvation. But no one wins. The devil almost always comes out on top. He twists their words, exploits their weaknesses, and ultimately takes everything.
There was one time, though—a story everyone still whispers about—when a mortal peasant nearly beat the odds. He was almost too clever for his own good and made it further than anyone ever had. The devil’s advisors—those demons sitting beside him, whispering telepathic advice—were getting worried. The peasant managed to outplay every trap Satan laid, coming within a bat’s whisker of sealing the deal.
But in the final moment, the poor fool slipped with everything on the line. Just one word, one tiny mistake, and it was over. Satan smiled—his sharp, cold smile—and the vault took another soul. That peasant’s deposit box is still locked away with the rest.
To this day, only one other contestant came close—a wealthy creature whose identity no one knows. Some say he was a vampire lord, others a disgraced werewolf king. But he couldn’t even finish the game. The devil never really loses.
But tonight… they’re promising one of the most death-defying, gripping episodes ever aired. This show is so addictive. Every time, you think: Maybe this time. Maybe someone will find a way to cheat the devil, to walk away with everything. But it never happens.
My good friend Xhoanna—you know, the wild DracuLord fanatic from the Albanian Alps—told me that her father’s Nocturnal House High Lord Instructor (the one who teaches pupils to become disciples of DracuLord and serve HIM) recently shared some startling news. It turns out that his father works as an Eternal Cleaner, tasked with keeping the golden-plated boxes that house millions of souls spotless. He let the bat out of the belfry: typically, after each recording, one of those countless boxes glows a faint mahogany hue, marking a new soul’s “deposit.” But this time, no glow. Not a hint of mahogany. And that can only mean one thing—a soul wasn’t deposited that night.
It might just be a petty rumor or a red tarantula meant to throw off the die-hard blood fans. After all, we’re dealing with Satan himself here—always the master of deception, weaving his schemes with a sly grin, never showing his cards. He’s fooled our world countless times, pulling strings from the shadows, always keeping us guessing. Nothing with him is ever straightforward; every little detail could be another trap, another layer to his endless game. But something inside me… whoops, that’s a clear breach of BloodVerse MMXLIII, which states feelings are a mark of estrangement from DracuLord. So, let’s just say I suspect something is amiss. Exactly what, I don’t know.
I caught a sneak peek on CeDracu 1 (still call it that, even though they rebranded as RNN—the Royal Nocturnal Network). The preview hinted at some mortal from the far eastern plains of Moldova. Rumour has it that it could be an endangered mortal who moonlights as a plastic surgeon specializing in prosthetic fangs.
These days, the station is a snooze-fest… mostly public service documentaries on proper vampire conduct. The only other remotely interesting show profiles the finest coffins in the Vampire World, hosted by one of the few remaining mortals. My father dreams of being featured, ever eager to showcase his prized golden coffin, a masterpiece of pure blue blood mixed with gold, crafted fit for royalty.
So…who knows? Maybe tonight we will see something extraordinary. I am not counting on it….After all…it is Satan, and to beat him would require extraordinary talent. DracuLordism has no opinion on Satan. He once was an inhabitant of The Nocturnal House…and had a spat with our king, King Dracula, but little is known about their relationship.
I guess that’s the curse of Satan’s Vault. It gives you just enough hope to believe in the impossible, only to crush it at the last second. And every time, without fail, I keep coming back for more.
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