She had no idea where she was. Opening her eyes, all she found around here was a midnight blue sky and a far away dot that she thought to be the sun. What lie around her was a wasteland with nothing more then cracked, dry, sandy land. Far away, she thought that she could make out the outline of a tree, but she doubted that was what was. Standing up, she looked in every direction, stretching her hearing in the silence around her, but found that everything looked the same in all directions. That was when she realized that she was alone.

“Bakuhatsu,” Senna called out into the emptiness. When she didn't hear a reply, fear welled up in her as she looked frantically around. “Bakuhatsu!”

Closing her eyes, she tried to feel for her familiar by searching for his signature, but even that seemed to be failing her in this strange place. Opening her eyes, she looked at the ground, when an idea came to her. Quickly, she drew a Summoning Circle and stood in the middle, forcing the magic to amplify her senses and try to find the little Red Wyvern.

This place was beginning to weird her out for a number of reasons now. One, it seemed to be day and night at the same time. Two, there wasn't another living soul around for what she assumed to be miles upon miles. Three, it was way too easy to access magic. In fact, this was the easiest time she had of the task for all the years that she had been able to access it.

Deciding not to dwell on those facts, she focused her entire mind on finding her familiar. At least that way, she wouldn't feel so alone and helpless in this desolate place. She never knew that half of these Beasts existed, and here they were, all over this desolate plain! Dragons, Gryphons, things she had never known the name to, they were all over but still far away from where she stood. That and she still couldn't lock onto Bakuhatsu.

“Where the hell are you,” Senna muttered, trying to stretch the magic as far as it would go. “I know you're around here somewhere...”

However, she found no trace of the Wyvern anywhere, which disappointed her to no end. It was as if she could feel him around, but he was just out of her reach. “Where are you...”

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Vlad didn't like this one bit. He knew exactly where he was and exactly who's cold eyes were staring at him in dislike and promising of punishment worse then death. He could have sworn that Senna and the little Dragon would have ended up with him, here in the castle that would have jogged some memories of the poor girl. He didn't remember how exactly he was split up from her and the Dragon, but hoped that she was alright and not in any danger. If the proud figure that stood before him got any hint that she was in danger, well, he didn't want to think about it.

“What are you doing back here,” the figure asked, arms crossing and cold icy blue eyes narrowing. “I thought you were to stay with Senna.”

“Noel,” Vlad replied, looking straight into those orbs that seemed to pierce right through his very being in their rage that they now contained. “He opened up a portal and we sort of fell through...” He could tell that wasn't what the Leader of the Fallen Angels of the Shadows wanted to hear. He was rather glad that it now wasn't him that had those eyes whirling in distaste and rage.

“If you both fell through, where is she?”

“I'm just as confused as you are.”

“We can't let them find her first,” Kaggren scowled, looking out one of the many ceiling-to-floor windows that lined the hallway of the throne room. The wastelands beyond filled with blowing sand and bursts of flame, some of it red and orange and some black as the pit itself. “If they do, I fear Noel knows how to reactivate the runes.”

“You mean she...”

“Yes. The runes cannot be taken away. They were burned into her skin, and had attached themselves to her very soul. They will stay forevermore.”

“But she was reincarnated...”

“It doesn't matter,” Kaggren said. “It's part of her punishment by Namor.”

“Why would Namor do that,” Vlad exclaimed, finally rising into a kneeling position to his superior. “It would only hinder us now!”

“I don't know. Do no ask me the logic of the Dragons of Heaven,” Kaggren replied evenly.

Standing up, Vlad turned to go out of the throne room and find Senna. She was his charge damn it and no little Fallen of Ice was going to try to start another war! He prayed to whatever would listen to a Fallen Angel that Bakuhatsu was with her and able to protect her from any foe that would dare attack. Well, that or she would somehow remember what and who she was and be able to find her way back to the castle and hopefully, out of Noel's sights.

“Where are you going,” Kaggren's booming voice asked, his tone harsh.

“To find my Charge,”Vlad replied. “It my fault that she's even down here in the first p;ace, let alone in Noel's sights.”

“So he is the one causing all this...”

“Yes,” Vlad confirmed. “And I don't plan on allowing it to escalate any further then it already has.”

“I'll give you nightfall,” Kaggren sighed. “If you haven't returned by then, I must tell Namoki who will have one of the Neutrals inform those of Heaven. That's all I can do for you.”

“Understood.” And with that, Vlad walked out into the wasteland, hoping to find Senna, still in one piece and not in Noel's clutches.

Meanwhile, Kaggren plopped down on his throne, sighing a heavy sigh. So they were causing trouble yet again. It seemed that Noel hadn't kept his promise to keep the peace around his territory in Hell. And yet again, his daughter had become a key player in this battle. He just hoped that Noel wasn't bent on causing another uprising. True, Heaven's defenses had replenished themselves, but Hell's hadn't yet recovered from all their losses.

He was also rather concerned for Senna's condition. Seeing that at the moment, she was Mortal. He didn't know whether her body would react if she was to become immortal like she was before. Or the war and tear on her should of Noel, if he had her, didn't take any precautions. Although he tended to think things out more then Vicious, he could be rash like some of the young ones were known to be.

Looking out the window, he watched the sands of Hell blow around in the frequently gusting wind. A Mortal Senna with none of her past memories, powers, and alone was somewhere in this place of deceit and torture. Sighing once again, he just stared out his windows, wondering why he ever even considered chasing after Nimora while she was in Flight.

~~~~~~insert some sort of awesome scene separator here~~~~

Bakuhatsu growled as sand blasted on him, and now into his opened eyes. This was hell, he knew that much. He may have been a Dragon of Heaven, but that didn't mean that he didn't know what Hell was like. His Clan had sent spies many times to this place, and he had learned a lot from those that had returned to the caves.

However, no one told him that there would be blowing sand.

Shaking his head, he forced his wings open and became airborne in a matter of minutes of struggling against the gusting winds. He had become separated from Senna after the fall, and knew that he had to find her. He watched Vlad fall through a different portal, and knew that meant that Senna was alone. Not a good thing. If Noel were to capture her now, there would be no way for him to find her.

Feeling a tickle run briefly through his mind, he knew that she was still free of anyone that would realize exactly who she was. Plus, that meant that she was looking for him. Deciding to follow the signature as far as it would take him, the Wyvern latched onto the path of the magical energies and followed them.

He would return her calls, but he couldn't waste the magic it would take to do that. Plus, if another latched onto the pathway as well, he wanted to be a surprise. A nasty, fire-breathing surprise.

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Senna sighed. She didn't seem to be able to call Bakuhatsu or even Vlad. Hell, she couldn't even Summon Ytur at the moment. She would try one more time, and if that didn't work, then, she would look for them. She knew that being alone here wasn't good. A feeling of dread in bedding itself into her gut. She just had to try again! At least, before she went to go look for trouble instead of allowing it to find her.

Bringing the magic into the Circle, she looked for the signatures of the beings that she had learned that she would be able to depend on. However, she found this search as fruitless as the rest. Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, she just took in a deep breath instead. Opting not to do anything that she would later regret.

Stepping out of the Circle's borders, she instantly felt a surge of dread and quickly stepped back inside the barrier. Now the feeling had dwindled to nothing more then a warning yet again. Sitting down in the middle, she focused on keeping her barrier against the impending danger up and not allowing it to be blown away.

It wasn't long after that when Bakuhatsu spotted her in the whirling sands. However, it had seemed that the Circle was glowing a shifting turquoise, green, and white with red flecks where sand was being blown into it. A barrier? She knew how to make a barrier? Either she knew instinctively how to do it or she got at least some of her memories back.

Chirping as he circled down, he caught Senna's attention and was welcomed into a hug. She was so relieved to have at least one of the ones she knew and trusted with her instead of being alone in this forsaken place. Bakuhatsu squirmed and squealed in protest, but couldn't break out of the hold. Settling down, he let Senna try to squeeze the life out of him until she had her fill.

“Where's Vlad,” she asked, looking around. “Don't you know where he is? Wasn't he with you?”

Whining in the back of his throat, casting eyes downwards, she knew that Vlad was either nowhere near them or was captured. Hoping it wasn't the latter, she looked out across the wasteland, wondering which direction to go.

“We need to find him,” Senna sighed. “He's most likely looking for us too.”

Bakuhatsu tilted his head to the side, as if he was listening. He was more intent on finding out the reason why Vlad hadn't found them yet, and if anyone other then the Fallen of Shadow was out looking for them. Also, whoever was looking, were they close? Curling up on her shoulder, the little Wyvern kept his eyes peeled, looking for danger.

~~~~~~insert some sort of awesome scene separator here~~~~

“Lord Noel.”

The Fallen of Ice didn't pay his advisor any mind, but was much more intent on making sure his search parties knew who they were looking for, and exactly what their orders were. It wouldn't do if they found Senna and killed her. Or even if they injured her too much in any battle. It was hard for him that a mere Mortal had eluded him for so long, but once he found her, he found that she was rather easy to capture. However, the appearance of Vlad, Kaggren's right hand man, worried him a little. That meant he somehow got word that someone was looking for her, and obviously sent her a guardian.

“Lord Noel!”

“What,” Noel snapped, looking at his advisor, who stood ever by his side. “What is so pressing, Vincent?”

“We have found her,” Vincent replied. “I thought that would be a tad bit important to inform you of.”

The smaller of the two scowled, glaring up into Vincent's calm and lightly laughing rose colored eyes. Platinum blonde hair framed his face, falling no longer then briefly touching his broad shoulders. Clear tinted blue wings were folded loosely against violet colored robes that flowed around his thin frame. Taller then Noel, but still short by both Fallen and Angel standards, Vincent looked more like Noel's older brother then henchman.

Noel smiled a cocky little smile at his right hand man. “You did, did you? Then why isn't she here yet?”

“I have sent Kaisha already. I just thought that you would have found it very interesting is all,” Vincent replied. “Of course, if you would rather I have waited until Kaisha retrieved her...”

“It's alright,” Noel replied, eyes lightly glowing in light humor. “It's good that you thought of sending someone out before telling me this. If you didn't, you would be a fool.”

Bowing, Vincent left, deciding to moniter the goings on of what Kaisha was doing. He didn't need her to be screwing up like a time like this. Of course, she was one of the best Demons of Hell for retrieval but this was also Senna they were dealing with. He hoped that she had yet to regain her memories or powers. It would make for some rather hindering complications for this operation to go through.

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Kaisha was out in her element, the wind gusting around her just made her feel that much more at home. She loved the feel of the wind under her outstretched wings of black membrane, stretched between her back and the outer wing edge. Short, boyish looking forest green hair ruffled in the gusts that she was creating as dark orange eyes looked out for her target in this unforgiving plane.

Circling the intense thermals of Hell, she scanned the area and headed off into the direction that Vincent had informed her that her prey lie. She had an idea where Senna was, exactly what was with her, and even the fact that there seemed to be a force field around her. That impressed the Wind Demon the most, the fact that even if she didn't remember a thing about her former life, that she was able to create fields that would try to hide her and even protect her from some of those that were searching for her.

However, Kaisha was brighter then that. She knew better then to look for her by her essence signiture or even magical signiture since there was evidance of her using magic. So, she took in all the information that she could from Vincent and the scouts and decided that the best way to deal with this situation was by looking for her by sight.

After awhile of flying around, seeing nothing but the usual sights of deadened, twisted trees, lone spikes of rock, and an endless sea of swirling sand, she spotted her prey and smirked.

“Poor little Angel of Oblivion,” Kaisha spoke softly. “And now, you are once again going to be forced into bondage by those that you tried to defeat.”

Disclaimer: Azazel belongs to my friend, Sara Brown. I'm only using him because she said I could. Vlad and pieces of the plot are mine.

“Get away from me!”

He was running, but from what he had no idea. The world around him was nothing but an endless pit of black. Fear kept him from looking back, even if he had no idea what exactly was pursuing him. No matter how much he tried to make himself look back, he could never face the thing that was chasing him. He promised himself that this wouldn’t happen again. That he’d finally face the thing and his fear that had been haunting him for the past year and a half.

By some miracle or his own will power, he finally stood still, legs not pumping him toward the salvation that never seemed to come. He turned around, and for the first time in all the time he had this dream that cast terror into his heart, both here and the waking world. A dark being with seemingly glowing eyes the color of sparking shallow seas stood before him. Raven hair cast a dark aura around him that deeply contrasted his pale skin that was covered in black leather pants, tank top, and assorted belts looping around his arms. Arms folded in front of a bread chest, the man stood a few feet away, stern expression never faltering.

“You’ve been running a long time, Azazel.”

Silver eyes widened in both shock and horror. This stranger knew his name? But how…

“For the longest time I tried to reach you. Why are you so afraid?”

“Stay away,” Azazel muttered, taking a step back, his will power fading rapidly.

Shaking his head, the stranger softened his expression. “You knew the tie was coming, Azazel. You’ve known for a very long time now. Don’t resist the calling anymore.”

“Stay away,” Azazel yelled, watching the darkness of his dream world being ripped apart by a blinding golden light. A face appeared, one that he learned so very long ago to fear and one that he had to face when he woke up from this nightmare, behind the strange man who didn’t seem to notice. Deep brown eyes stared out of a fairly tanned face that was outlined by heavy dark brown locks. A crocked smile lay on the smooth features, with an elongated canine draping over its lips.

“Go away,” Azazel yelled again. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

Finally looking behind him, the man clad in black leather narrowed his eyes at the sight behind him.

“I have already claimed him, Vlad,” the face sneered. “You’re too late.”

“Mason,” Vlad yelled as the face began to fade away. “I told you not to meddle in my affairs!”

For Azazel, that’s when everything went black.

~*scene change*~

He wanted to be anywhere then where he was at the moment. Consciousness was just as kind as his dreams, which wasn’t very. He felt small nips on the back of his neck, ones that told him that he was in for a lot more pain and yet another reason that he just wanted to die, to let go of this life that had held nothing but torture and endless suffering.

“He’ll keep on coming to you,” Mason said, nipping Azazel’s ear. “And until he stops, I can’t allow you to be alone.”

“Not again,” Azazel whimpered, knowing full well that his pleas would go unheard.


“There has to be another way,” Azazel said, feeling the familiar scrape of fangs over his skin. “One that doesn’t hurt so much…”

“Your blood, your mind, your soul,” Mason said, the ritual once again starting. “They all belong to me and me alone.”

And with those words, Azazel was clutched to the cold body behind him, a flash of pain burning in his skin where the fangs breached it. It felt as if every part of his mind and soul were bared out before the other man. His veins screamed once again of being depleted, as his heart and soul cried out to be hidden back in the dark, bared to no one but themselves so that maybe, it would be special in some way. That he would be worth more then he knew he was at these moments in time.

Carefully, Mason retracted his fangs, closing the wounds by laving them with a blood soaked tongue. Shuddering, Azazel never felt so cold before. The vampire most likely took more then he usually did. All that meant for him was that the darkness that always came after a ‘feeding’ would come that much sooner, along with a rather coveted dreamless sleep.

Mason watched Azazel start to doze, and sighed a heavy sigh. Vlad would not get this one from him. He had found this lonely soul and decided to try to save him, even convince him to become one of his kind. Hopefully, Azazel would agree and maybe even accept his proposal for a more intimate relationship. But Vlad…he was a problem that won’t go away, claiming that he sought out the mortal first. That couldn’t be. There was no clear evidence of claiming marks or any other indication besides the fearful dreams that had Azazel so scared of sleeping that he did this out of pity. Just so the mortal could sleep and maybe even forget everything that he had seen.

A little more of him was open each time he sunk his teeth in and grazed his thoughts, hopes, and even dreams, even if those consisted of finally being free. That had to be one of the downside of feeding like that, where he would just try to pull everything out with the essence that would keep his powers up to speed and his mind coherent and not constantly thinking of the blood that no longer flowed in his veins, he was able to see the scared little child behind the mask of an adult, which no one was supposed to witness.

Fingers lightly touching extremely pale blond hair that shimmered, even in the almost non-existent light, Mason sighed as he looked over the thin frame. Apparently, Azazel hadn’t been eating what he had the servants bring up. Either that or he had a really fast metabolism. Pale skin almost glowed in the light from the current amount of blood loss, and he knew that the usually sparkling silver eyes would be dull with the way he passed out. Flawed yet so perfect in his eyes, he didn’t want to hurt him anymore. But with all the interference of the others lately, he couldn’t help but to make sure that they stayed at bay, which meant hurting this poor creature before him.

Getting up, Mason took one look back at the sleeping Azazel before deciding that he should get ready for the night. He had a lot to do, dealing with the rest of his coven and the rascals of the others, even some leaders in some cases. Like Vlad, who kept claiming that the mortal was his and should be turned over to him. Sighing, already getting a headache from the rival coven leader, Mason left the room, intent on at least trying to get Azazel to drink and nibble something when he woke up. Having him die now just wouldn’t be beneficial to any of them.

~*scene change*~

Vlad paced his deemed ‘thinking room’, wondering how in the world to get Azazel back. The other had no idea that they were connected, that he had to wipe the memory of him clean so that they could be a lot happier. In fact, it was his fault in the first place, brining him here still as a mortal. It was back then his sire, the previous leader of the coven, was alive and forbade any mortal from entering the premises. When he attacked Azazel, he was scared and so shot him with a silver bullet through the forehead, killing the vampire instantly. The poor mortal was so shaken up about it that he had to wipe the memories of him and the incident clean and had to start with him from scratch. It was then that Mason found him, and this whole disagreement started.

“Azazel,” Vlad sighed, finally opting to sit down after fearing that he would eventually wear a hole out in the Persian rug. “What the hell have I done to loose you again?”

There had to be a way to get the mortal back on his side, if that was ever possible. Maybe Mason was right, maybe it was too late for him. That sent a shudder down his spine. To loose that piece of his soul again, the only being in the life and afterlife that was able to break thought his shell taken away forever. That just didn’t sound too good from his perspective. Although he did feel sorry for Mason, loosing one mate already due to the Hunters that were constantly trying to wipe them out, even those that had done no wrong. But that was no reason whatsoever to try to take what was rightfully his.

Well, if Azazel wanted to come back to him that was. If not, if he truly had lost the other, then he would just have to get over it. As painful as that sounded, he couldn’t just kill them both. If Azazel found happiness, that should just make everything easier to bear, but the way he screamed in that dream, that look of horror and dread on his face, he knew otherwise. And it was killing Vlad slowly on the inside, to know that he didn’t want to start a war that would most likely end up killing Azazel, something he knew that he wouldn’t be able to deal with.

A knock on the door brought him out of his musings, which he was somewhat thankful for since it was doing nothing more then depressing him. Although he was curious to who it was, since few dared to even cross his path yet try to talk to him when he was brooding. He wasn’t head of the coven for nothing after all.

“Enter,” he said harshly, wiping away all traces of his once forlorn expression.

“Master,” a timid little violet –haired teen voice said, cracking open the door. “There is a visitor here to see you…”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Shade,” Vlad sighed, getting up. “I told you that your sire wasn’t supposed to make one so young, it was of no fault of yours that he was punished.”

“Yes master,” Shade said, backing away slowly.

Sighing again, pinching the bridge of his nose, Vlad couldn’t believe that Shade was only fifteen and already immortal. Being shy didn’t help one bit, and it had become worse when he killed the one who made Shade a vampire in the first place, which made the timid teen even more shy around him, to the point of being scared even. He would have to show the little fledgling that he would teach him everything he would ever need to know, and not to be so scared of everything that moved in the house.

Heading down to the foyer, he spotted Mason immediately, and had to do everything in his power not to jump the other vampire and demand that Azazel be allowed to go. The look of fear and horror still stuck in his mind, and it was a look that he never wanted to see on his beloved’s face ever again. Something he knew that he would have to express in a different way. He had to be a ‘big boy’ about this whole mess, especially if he didn’t want to start a war. The coven wars had finally come to an end not even two centuries before, and he wasn’t willing to start them up again. He had lost too many good friends to that stupid war, and knew that he would loose a lot more if he went through with it.

“To what do I owe this rare pleasure,” Vlad said, eyes narrowed and expression dripping with hate. Just because he couldn’t jump Mason didn’t mean he couldn’t make his feeling toward this whole situation known.

“You lost him, Vlad,” Mason growled. “He’s mine now. You had your chance, and you lost it. You should have protected him better, something I plan to do. You’re not the only one who’s been trying to reach him, and quite plainly I’m getting sick and tired of having to put up with soul-marking him every single time you and whoever else decide that they are going to try their hand at taking him away from me.”

“He’s not Morgan,” Vlad replied. “And he will never be able to replace him. Just remember that. Azazel is kind where Morgan wasn’t. He’s mortal where Morgan had been a vampire for how many years before you met him?”

Growling, Mason’s irises began to take on a light crimson sheen. “You leave him out of this!”

“He’s not going to be able to replace what you lost,” Vlad said, rejoicing on the inside since he had found such a tender nerve in the other. Well, Mason wanted to play dirty, and Vlad could dish it back. “I would know. I have yet to find anyone who could replace Azazel.”

“You did that to him,” Mason shouted. “You made him into the mess I found him in. He would scream and not know why. He would try to kill himself for no reason since he had no idea what made the thought come to him in the first place. You almost killed him, Vlad, and I came by just in time to pick up the pieces and put them back together. You don’t deserve him.”

“Then why do you keep him locked up like that then,” Vlad replied. “You keep him like a wild animal, caged and under your total control. Do you really thing you’re doing anything better? Because from the looks of things, he’s terrified of you.”

“Don’t tell me something I already know,” Mason growled, turning to leave. “It’s because of all the times that I had to reinforce my claim on him that he is. That’s your fault too. Stay away from what is mine!”

“He’s not anyone’s,” Vlad responded, knowing full well that he was most likely the last person that Azazel would ever want to see either, especially if he ever regained the memories that he took. “I at least allowed him to make a choice if he wanted to stay or not.”

Snorting, Mason left, slamming the door on his exit.

“Master,” Shade said timidly, peaking from around a corner. “Why is Mason so intent on keeping Azazel? I remember him, he was always so understanding of us…so concerned for my well being…”

“He wants to find another Morgan,” Vlad replied simply, heading into the living area. It was lightly furnished with one couch and a lounge chair and a widescreen television on the farthest wall in plain view from the whole room. Plopping down in the lounge chair, head sinking into his hands, Vlad took in a deep breath. Maybe he should allow Azazel to remember what happened, and maybe then he would forgive him? No. Not yet. Not with Mason so intent on keeping everyone out like he was

“Master,” Shade asked, tilting his head.

“Shade, I think I fucked up royally this time,” Vlad replied. “Really fucked up good.”

A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. I'm not making any money and don't have any myself. Was written because my muse is on crack...

Where are you when I need you?

He couldn't feel anymore. Not even his nerves could register if what he was feeling was pain, pleasure, or even if anything was really happening at all. The only indication of anything was his blood pooling around him and running down pale, scarred skin. He never thought that she would get this bad, and hate him this much. He gave up of ever being saved as he looked into his mother's eyes, those eyes wild with hatred for what her son had become.

He couldn't even try to pretend he was 'her Ritsuka' anymore. It seemed that no matter what he did, she knew that he was the impostor in her son's body. Hiding had become ineffective, and the beatings were becoming progressively worse as time went on. He didn't have anyone to protect him anymore. Seimei was gone, his only protector was gone. Soubi, he didn't call because he was afraid that he would be called weak, or something would happen to his mother. He didn't want anything else bad to happen to the distraught woman, and was determined not to get the Fighter involved with this problem.

Why does it hurt so much to be numb, Seimei? Why can't I go back to being 'her Ritsuka'?

Faintly feeling another strike to his already battered and bleeding body, he could do nothing more then take his punishment. Maybe these beatings will make him disappear, and the real Ritsuka come back, to soothe his mother and maybe even let her finally grieve properly for her fallen eldest son. His breath shuddering, he knew that although he couldn't feel, that his body wasn't doing so well with the apparent blood loss. He knew that he would black out soon if he didn't at least try to do something. However, doing that something meant some sort of retaliation. Hadn't he hurt his mother enough?

Soubi...

He was struck in the face with the back of his mother's cruel hand. The ring she wore on her finger digging into his skin, causing it to bleed like the rest of him. Had that hurt? Maybe. He still couldn't really feel anything. It was a strong defense to this daily routine of torture, one he was sure that he had brought onto himself.

You said you would do anything for me. Why can't you hear my cries?

Feeling a tear run down his face as he watched his mother take in deep breaths, eyes still wild with deep hatred for her youngest son, Ritsuka could do nothing but pray to his two gods who most likely didn't hear him. One because he left him in this dark place alone, to fend for himself although it was always his command to run. Run into the safety of those arms that would forever defend him, and that left him alone. The other told a web of lies and deceits, until he couldn't decide what was fact or fiction. How many times had he tried to call on him, only to be blocked and evaded.

Will anyone save me? Or am I just doomed to be forever damned?

He was picked up by his collar, forced to glare into those never ending pools of hatred and not able to look away. Those eyes that once held recognition, hell, even love for his older brother, now held nothing but hatred for him, and who he had become. He was thrown into his room, the signal that he was done being beat for the day, beat for the sin of hiding himself so deeply within himself that he became a different person. He just sat there on his floor, staring at the door. Was this all that was left for him to look forward to? Or would he be saved?

Save me! Someone...just save me...

“Ritsuka.”

Turning around, he found his savior. His Fighter. The only one he knew who could truly save him from this fate of pain and torture.

“Save me,” Ritsuka replied, finally crumpling over in pain. It seemed that his nerves decided to work again, and they felt nothing but pain and anguish. “Don't let her kill me!”

He couldn't feel anything but the pain all over his body, and the comforting arms of his Fighter around his trembling body. He wasn't sure when he was moved, but he soon found himself on his bed, Soubi glaring at the door. Turning his gaze to it, he knew that he had a choice to make. Soubi could kill, the boy had a feeling that he had done it before. But she was his mother, could he really order her death? Even after all the wrong that she had cause him?

“Leave her alone,” Ritsuka finally said, turning over. “She's too cracked up to even cared if she died anyway.”

Soubi didn't say anything, but instead sat up against the door as his defense against the mad woman. He knew that Ritsuka wouldn't like it if he went against it and killed the woman anyway. He hated watching it get worse, the injuries on his Sacrifice's body become worse and worse as well as no longer centered around any part of the body. Was this a part of his training? His own twisted training?

“You are good enough Ritsuka,” Soubi said, looking toward the bed. “You don't need to push yourself like this.”

“It's punishment for my sin.”

“You have not sinned against her. If anything she has sinned against you.”

Ritsuka didn't answer. He knew that Soubi was right, ever since these beatings became more frequent and severe, he knew that his mother's 'sickness' had worsened. She didn't even recognized him as the 'fake' Ritsuka anymore, which slowly was killing him emotionally. He needed to get out of here, out of this environment and try to live as happily as he could...at least, that was what part of his mind kept yelling at him. The other part refused to believe that his mother could be acting so harshly toward him, and that she would break herself of this horrible habit.

It was a long while before either of the two said anything, both locked in their own minds, trying to figure one another out, as well as Ritsuka's mother's intentions. Where as Soubi was fine with just letting his thoughts float around in his mind, Ritsuka found the silence deafening. All he could hear were his thoughts on escaping this fate, and how he knew that he was going to die here if he stayed. Knowing the Fighter would help him in a moments just made the temptation to escape that much more appealing, yet he felt that he couldn't act on his emotions. That it would cause more trouble then he would be able to handle.

“Soubi,” he finally said, making the blonde look at him with piercing eyes. “Even if I wanted to escape, where would I go? What would happen to mom?”

“She will either get better or worse, and you will live with whomever you choose,” Soubi replied. “Create your own destiny, Ritsuka. Don't let your fears get in the way.”

“Get me out of here,” Ritsuka finally said in a raised voice. He tried to sit up, but was confronted with a dizzy spell and laid back down. “Just please don't hurt mom...”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

Standing up, he took the injured boy in his arms, some necessities, and left the room. He would never see the little room again, not after Ritsuka's mother lost it and killed herself there. Forever in mourning of loosing her two sons. Ritsuka would never know that, always believing that she had finally moved on and had a new life. He would tell the younger later, when he thought he would be able to handle it. But for now, lying and deceit were the only things that would put Ritsuka at ease, in which made them both a little happier in a depressing world.

A/N: My first fanfic in over...wow. Three years. This was designed to be a one shot, and will stay that way. Expect a Biology lesson, since there's no better way to do this because my muse is a bitch and not leaving me alone about this idea. BTW, if anyone knows the names of the little boxes that people use for determining what traits would be dominant or recessive, please inform me. I've totally forgotten their name, no longer in Biology, and want to kill Google since it's not helping.

Disclaimer: I don't own Loveless, at all. I'm just using the universe and characters for my own enjoyment and perhaps the enjoyment of you people. You don't wanna sue a poor college student do you? ;_;

'Seimei, life is so boring,' Ritsuka thought, once again staring out of the window of the school, watching the clouds and their every changing shapes. It was one of the many ways that he found a good way to pass the time, as well as “talking” to his older brother, even if it was in his head. Black ears that sat in a nest of unruly black hair twitched in time with a long black tail, trying to give the impression that he was listening. Violet eyes continued to stare at the outside world, which, at the moment, would be a much better place to be rather then the classroom.

Listening to Shinonome Sensei drone on and on about genetics and whatnot, things that his viewpoint dictated as “unimportant” and “boring.” He had no idea why he would need to know about what genes did what nor the knowledge if one mixed with another what the results would be. It was far more interesting by comparison on what the clouds were doing, and even watching the grass play in the light breeze as well as the leaves, both shimmering in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Ritsuka-kun,” Yuiko said, trying her hardest to get the irritable boy to pay attention. The pink hair and eared girl knew that Shinonome would notice him spacing off soon, and decided that it was her job as his friend to get his head from wherever it decided to wander. “Ritsuka-kun! Come on! You've been staring out the window too long! Sensei will notice soon!”

Yawning, the neko-boy looked boredly at the chalk board, placing his hand underneath his chin as his elbow rested against the hardwood of his desk. Watching Shinonome draw boxes, he decided that he should take notes, but was finding it hard to even pick up his pencil as boredom was rapidly turning into sleepiness. Yawning again, he picked it up, jotting down the boxes as he listened to his still virgin teacher's explanation of the subject.

“Now, we will discuss something that each of us have that is determined by our parents,” Shinonome explained, back turned toward the class as she drew her example on the board. “The look of all children's tails are determined by the genetics of their parents. We will represent the shorter tail with a capital “C” and the longer tails as a lower case “c”. Now, as you can see, the more dominant trait would be the shorter tail just by looking around you. However, I'm sure that some of you noticed that both of your parents have short tails and you have a long one. It's not because of anything more then pure chance.

“Now. Lets say someone with the short tail had a child with one of a long tail. So, who can tell me which kind of tail would the child have with the information I have given you?”

Yayoi raised his hand, and answered as soon as his Sensei called on him. “The child would have a short tail!”

“In most cases yes,” Shinonome smiled. “However, it is also possible, although unlikely, that the child could end up with a long tail.”

Returning to the chalk board, she wrote a “Cc”, one letter for each of the top boxes, and a “cc” on the side two. Turning back to her students, she pointed at what she had just done. “Now, if the parent with the short tail had both of their parents give him a dominant gene, then the child would have a short tail, no matter what. However, if the parent had one of each, then the results could be a little bit different.”

Raising her hand, Yuiko caught Shinonome's attention. “But Sensei, why would the parent have a long tail if they had one of each 'C'?”

“Good question,” the woman smiled. “Because the more dominant gene would overshadow the recessive gene. So, in theory, every single one of you short tailed children could have the chance to produce a long tail child.”

Returning to the board, she dropped the larger “C” in the first two boxes, and the smaller “c” in the last two boxes. She then went across and paired up the already placed letter with the “c”'s of the other theological parent. Turning back to the students once again, she pointed to the four new pairs of genes.

“So if we look at it this way, this child would have a 50/50 chance of having a short tail at birth,” she explained. Erasing her work, she replaced the pair of lower case c's with an upper case and lower case, mimicking the first set. Placing those new pairings in the boxes, she showed them what she had done. “Now, this couple would have a much greater chance of their children having a short tail. This first box has both dominant genes, second and third are mixed, and the last box are the required recessive gene for the long tail.”

'Seimei,' Ritsuka sighed, writing all of these things down. 'When will I ever need to know this? A child with a short or long tail, what does it matter?'

“Do genes dictate anything else,” another student asked, one that Ritsuka never bothered to learn the name of.

“Genes determine everything about you,” Shinonome replied. “From the color of your hair to the color of your skin. There are also those that believe that it can dictate personality.”

'Personality,' Ritsuka had to snort at that. 'How about memory loss? Does it dictate that too?'

Sighing, he decided not to ask that as they moved onto the exercises to make sure that everyone understood the concept that she was trying to get across. Looking at his paper, flawlessly done as always, he couldn't help but think about the possibility that this whole situation, right down to his memory loss, was do to some genetic flaw. It wouldn't surprise him at all, knowing his life and the way it had been.

'Is this all destiny, or some mistake made by whatever gods watch over this piece of dirt and its inhabitants?'>/br>
Destiny. Soubi had many times told him that it was the dictating force of the world, and people. However, if these boxes proved anything, it was that chance ruled the world and all the things that went on in it. Or was it really Destiny that controlled one's heritage, right down to the genes to make sure whatever it planned went into effect.

Snapping out of his thoughts as the last bell rang for the day, he slowly packed his belongings away. Yuiko was talking nonsense the entire time he was doing so, while Yayoi stood by, trying his hardest to be noticed by the object of his affections. Ritsuka paid them no mind, as he wandered back to thinking about the Biology lesson. Which was governing his life? Chance or Destiny? Sighing, he decided to ask Soubi about this, seeing as he really had no other person to go to. That and he would be the only one who would listen, or at least pretend to listen anyway. He really didn't need his doctor to be worried about him anymore then she was, so she was quickly off the list for that.

Sighing in defeat, he walked out of the school, Yuiko and Yayoi leaving before him, the boy fed up with Ritsuka's annoying behavior and Yuiko afraid that she had done something wrong to receive the cold shoulder once again. As usual, the platinum blonde was waiting for him, leaning up against the gate, cigarette in between his lips and a far away look in his eyes. Letting out a soft huff, Ritsuka approached the Fighter, waiting for the opportune moment to ask his question.

“What's wrong, Ritsuka,” Soubi asked as he walked the younger boy to his house. “You seem like you're disturbed by something.”

“Is life determined by Destiny or Chance,” Ritsuka asked, giving the indication through his words that he had been thinking about this for awhile, and had yet to come up with a good answer.

Soubi stopped, and lifted Ritsuka's chin so the boy's would meet his own. “Destiny controls everything, Ritsuka. From your past to your future.”

“What about genes,” Ritsuka asked. “According to Sensei, Chance dictates those...”

“There is no such thing as chance,” Soubi replied, letting go of Ritsuka's face and began to walk again. “Destiny controls everything.”

Still not convinced, although he had to admit he did feel a little better, he followed behind Soubi, allowing his thoughts to wander once again. If Destiny controlled everything, did Chance even have a place in this cracked up world? Or was it just that, cracked up?

Soubi looked behind him, his face drawn into a slight confusion as he stopped and looked at the boy. It was clear that there was something was still on his mind. And it was troubling his Sacrifice. Was this question so perplexing that it had imprinted itself on the boy's mind? If so, he hoped that he could get the boy to at least brood again. He was becoming fond of those accusing eyes and stone cold expression. Stopping Ritsuka, he hugged him lightly, trying to comfort him from whatever was troubling him.

“Don't worry, Ritsuka,” Soubi whispered. “It doesn't matter if you think it's Chance or Destiny controlling things. In truth, it's all about what you believe, and nothing can change that.”

Looking up at him, violet eyes softened as he brought his head back down and pulled away, a small smirk on his face. Soubi was right. It didn't matter. Genes, chance, Destiny, none of it mattered. Especially determining if one would have a long or short tail.

A week past since Vlad was Summoned to the Mortal Plane, and Senna never realized how bored and how few friends she actually had around this castle. Well, besides Bakuhatsu and even Vanessa counted as a friend. She showed him all the little nooks and crannies of the place, and all the secret hiding places that she knew of where she could cause the most trouble. Vlad himself liked all the little hiding places that his Charge had found. It allowed him to spy on Senna without being seen most of the time, much to the relief of both of them.

Senna was dressed in Ceremonial robes of black and gold with her hair loose around her shoulders and a golden pendent of a dragon hanging from her neck. Bakuhatsu was lying across her shoulders, tail curling down her arm. Sandals with straps that snaked up her lets to about her knees were hidden under the heavy robes, which she found more of a hassle then anything. Why wear something that was covered up anyway? But she obeyed the tradition, so to avoid trouble.

"Is all this really necessary," Vlad asked, entering the room when Senna said that she was done. Yes, his little Charge did look more the role, but all this pomp for just a little fight? Mortals confused him.

"I don't know," Senna replied. "It's more of a hassle, or at least I think so. But it's something that has been happening for the past few generations. Something about keeping in step with the ancients or something like that."

"They're not your ancestors," Vlad huffed. "But whatever floats their boat."

Sighing, she had sort of learned to let those kind of comments go. He wouldn't tell her anything no matter how hard she tried to pry it out of him. He kept saying that she was going to figure it all out eventually, but she wasn't sure if she was or not. If she was meant to know, she would know, or so she hoped. She hated being left in the dark like that, but it was something that she was coming to expect from Vlad.

"Are you gonna watch me kick the tail out of that other Summoner," Senna asked, changing the subject without much thought.

"Yes," Vlad nodded. "But this time, I won't be hiding. If my suspicions are right, I don't want to be in a place where I can't get out of easily."

He had visited Hell while Senna was asleep, but only if Bakuhatsu was around, so that she at least had someone to be with. He always made his return trips quick, so not to point out the fact that he could travel freely, just to get the current events. It seemed that Noel was being quiet for the time being, but even when he went back to his home, the air seemed to have an icy feel to it. He didn't like it at all, and therefore suspected that something was going to go down very soon, and a Summoning of Dragons would be the best time, especially if both or even one of them was a Dragon of Hell.

Senna looked at him in disbelief. He usually opted to watch her from the vents and little hideaways that lay all around the castle. Why would he suddenly change his mind now? What was so special about this occasion that he was willing to be seen by those that surely would attend the event? A Dragon fight was an uncommon occurrence, and didn't happen all too often, but often enough to barely to place it above rare.

"Are you sick or something," Senna asked, placing a hand on his pale forehead.

Swatting her hand away, he was beginning to become slightly annoyed. She really had no idea the danger she was in! "I just want to be there if something would happen. You are my charge after all."

"But you're acting strangely," Senna protested. "You usually want to hide in the shadows rather then be seen at all!"

Shrugging, Vlad's usual signal that this conversation was going to be dropped because he didn't like explaining himself, Senna gave up her quest to find the answer. Plus, she knew that she had better get going soon, and arguing wasn't doing anything for her getting to her place on time. That and she was sure that to keep an opponent waiting wasn't the brightest idea in the world. Walking past him and out the door without another word, she made her way to the secluded room where the fights were held.

Vlad followed her through the twisting coordoors that Senna had never introduced him to, but he knew them just as well as she did. He was her guardian after all so why wouldn't he follow her around even though he couldn't be seen. He watched as she touched a solid wall, making a hidden rune glow a bright turquoise, and making the wall give a little shudder before allowing both of them entry to a large room that seemed impossible to fit inside the castle. One of the advantages of magic, he thought, taking a look around now that he felt he had the time. Can hide a Dragon in a field.

The room was large enough to fit a Roman Colosseum comfortably with perhaps even some extra room to spare on the sides as well as in height. It was larger then the castle could physically be, but surrounded by a magical barrier that both allowed it to remain hidden as well as fit inside the depths of the place where Senna called home. It was a perfect setting to fight the great beasts of mythology that have inspired both pleasant dreams and nightmares alike. At least, that's how Senna felt about this room.
Lit by candles scattered throughout the floor and torches casting their firey glow all around the 'arena' which was decorated with two pentagrams, so that the two Summoners could Summon Dragons with more ease rather then racing to complete their own circles. Standing on the other side of the large place, were her opponent and their captor. Those that had Summoners weren't exactly their masters, but what else could they be called since they were holding them against their will?
Both of the Summoners dressed in cloaks, Senna with her familiar proudly displayed on her shoulder, she noticed that either the other didn't have one or was waiting to Summon it. It was odd, since most Summoners liked to Summon their familiar before a battle so that they could Summon their battle Dragon easier. What was this one thinking? Was she really to face a novice? She hadn't faced one in a very long time and wasn't too eager to do so again. Sure, the Summoner's pride would be bruised, but not more then the Dragon they Summoned. It was widely considered wrong for such abuse, so why was she called here to do battle?

"Bakuhatsu," Senna said, looking at her Dragon. "It's time. Summon forth the one that is ready to do battle. Call the Dragon that is willing to do battle and be under my control."

The other smiled a sinister smile, one that could be seen from the dark hood that shrouded the other's face in shadows of the flickering light. Raising a ghostly white hand, fingers outstretched like claws with pale blue, elongated nails completing the grotesque hand. The circle that was on the opponents side of the middle boundary line began to glow a sickly green light, and then a small oval shaped white light appeared in the center. As it grew, it became the size of around seven feet, in which a large red snout poked through.

The full head came out of the rift, golden eyes swam with inner flame, and the desire to kill as most Reds were known to be killers, even if they weren't the strongest Dragons that were able to be Summoned. Opening it's jaw, making the eight navy blue horns, four on either side, the beast revealed row upon row of razor sharp teach, the smallest one about the size of a butcher's knife while the four large canines were the size of large stalactites that usually littered the large caverns where most of them dwelled as young beasts, or so those that have known about the existence of Dragons presumed. A deafening roar echoed throughout the arena, that challenged Senna's ability to stand down without fear, something rarely done by man or beast.

"Impressive," Senna muttered, and looked at Bakuhatsu. She still haven't received the image of a ready Dragon, although she heard the whispers of the ones that waited on her to be Called. However, it seemed that her familiar hadn't yet found one worthy enough to battle, or had confidence that Senna would be able to control it. That made her irritated beyond all belief. She had to Summon something! So if it got out of control, she could kill every living being in the room, even the Dragon itself could be killed in such an event. As long as she Summoned something, it didn't matter. Dying was always better then the embarrassment of fore-fitting.

Closing her eyes, she ignored the scrap of scale and talons across stone and focused on finding a Dragon that would fight on her behalf. Concentrating on the voices that surrounded her, she could hear one above the rest. It kept chanting in an ancient tounge, one that she knew that she had once understood so very long ago, but couldn't remember anymore. It made her feel calm, safe, and she knew that the others weren't meant for this battle. This one was Calling, making its presence known to her for a reason that she couldn't comprehend. Eyes snapping open, Fury of a Dragon within them, she looked at Bakuhatsu, who whined in the back of his throat.

Summoner's magic could pass over, began to pulse a black light. In the center appeared a violet gem-sized rift, and all that could be seen was a glaring orange eye that was slowing shifting to a bloody crimson. Senna could feel the blood lust of her Summoned Dragon's heart, the willingness to tear the impressive Red limb from bloody limb. In the back of her mind, she could feel Bakuhatsu's presence, helping her overcome the urge to go tear out the other Summoner's heart, to behold it and maybe even indulge in eating the organ.

Vlad watched as Senna tensed, and the Red even glare at the little rift like it wasn't even worth it's time. The opponent was strong, he'd give them that. Being able to Summon a Red without so much as a second thought. A large one at that, without one blemish on its scalely hide. He watched as the wings unfurled, revealing the dark midnight blue membrane as it stood on its hind legs, clawing at the air with its forearms, and roaring its challenge once again. It even gave him the urge to shudder for a moment, but he knew this Dragon by name. He was Tytako, one of the main fighters of Hell. This Summoner was impressive, very impressive.

"Come forth, my beast," Senna whispered to the Dragon that was peering through the rift. "Defeat the one before you, make them beg at your claws and at your power. Allow them to see your magisty, beast of the Darkness.."

With a loud crack, like that of an egg hatching, the rift opened the rest of the way. What lay before them was a beast of uncorrupted beauty and violence, one that demanded the respect of all that lay eyes on him. Black scales glittered in the firelight, although and aura of shadows made it seem that much more darker. Eyes of crimson bled an eerily soft light, making it's glittering teeth have the illusion of bloodshed already on their tips. The deadly features reseted on a narrow head, decorated with many horns of violet, but gave the illusion of being black by the shadow that surrounded it. Feathered violet wings with crimson tips were spread in all their glory, body heaved up on hind legs, and forearms tightly pressed against its rib cage, it roared its own challenge at the Red, who looked at it with wavering confidence and tried to regain it by looking larger.

"Ytur," Vlad said, eyes wide as he stared at the black and violet beast before him. Marks of sigmoid in violet streaked down its elegant neckline all the way to the tip of the long whip-like tail. "The Beast of Oblivion..."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Vlad gasped as the Dragon's mind entered his, a voice deep as the ocean, yet carrying so much authority boomed in his mind. He had never felt such power flow through him, never had he felt the urge to bow before a Dragon, something the Fallen saw as either their equals or below them. Looking over to Senna, she seemed unaware of this transaction of words, something he was grateful for.

Fallen, Ytur said, not even giving the notion that he was using thought speak. I thought that your kind were forbidden from this plane. After all, it was your fault that the Human Race fell so hard, and that the Elements were forever separated into Good and Evil. Why are you here? And why by my Mistress who I will forever be loyal to?

Great Ytur, Vlad replied in mind-speech, something he learned while he was still under Heaven's secure embrace. I am the appointed Guardian to Senna, heir to Oblivion by her father, Kaggren, Leader of the Fallen Angels of the Shadows. I mean no harm, and will not do anything to intimidate you, great Beast of Oblivion.

State your reason for being here, the Black commanded, roaring again as the Red shrunk back from its own challenge. I will not deal with your kind if what you say is false.

I have felt that I was needed, Vlad replied. This isn't going to end cleanly, as I am sure that you have observed, as the Guardian Beast of Oblivion's Throne. It is my duty as a Guardian to protect, even at the cost of my existence or being found out by the Mortals.

Understood.

With that, he was cut off. Sinking to his knees, he couldn't help but to stare at awe at the Dragon that radiated Shadows, that would settle for nothing but the winnings of the battle, and for blood to be spilled on this cold stone floor.

"My beast," the creaky voice of the cloaked fighter said, a cold blue eye gazing out of the darkness of cloak's shadow. "Attack. Do not worry, if you die, my loyal servant, you will be revived. I promise you."

Tytako whimpered at the back of his throat, eyes loosing a little bit of their confidence and luster, but kept their lust for blood. He knew that there was a very good chance that he would be destroyed in this fight, but it was for The Cause. The Cause of dragging Senna, the most influential of all beings of the Four Realms back down to Hell and putting back in bondage to the Fallen of Ice, and their new leader. To bring glory back into the House of the Fallen of Ice, where Vicious had disgraced it by his embarrassing defeat.

Ytur roared again, and waited for Senna's instruction. It was true that he was the most powerful of the Dragons that were aligned with Oblivion's armies, but it would be Senna who would tame him. To force him into her control and mold him into the commander that she wanted him to be. It was a shame that she was nothing more then a mere Mortal at the moment, and that fact killed him on the inside, but he knew that it wouldn't be long until she was placed back on the top of the food chain and in her rightful position as the Heir to Oblivion.

"Attack," her opponent yelled to Tytako, who hesitated for a second, but quickly threw all cares and even concerns out the window. He knew that he was to be sacrificed to the greater good, and now that the plan was in motion, there was little or nothing he could do to stop it.

Lunging at the Black, he went for the neck, the easiest place to attack and the quickest way to end a fight. The shorter this was, the better it would be for him. However, rumors had told that Ytur was one for prolonging battles, even if it were just for the carnage. If he could end his suffering even just by a little, he would consider it a mercy. Folding his great wings back, making his body more streamline and therefore faster, he tucked his forearms in as if he were taking off in flight, and even going so far as straightening his long tail as he pushed off with his powerful hind legs. A beautiful sight to behold, although it was all too soon cut short.

"Kill him," Senna said softly, although Ytur heard it as if she were right next to him and whispering in his hear. "I want to see the blood flow..."

Bakuhatsu landed on her shoulder, curling up and trying to take some of the blood lust, so that she could think a little more clearly without the instinct to kill over riding her senses. It wouldn't be good for her to make the Black indulge without some sort of strategy. It would be her downfall, since power rarely ever out beat strategy in such situations. Something he still carried the inner scars for from his own Youngling lessons.

Not being able to go against his Summoner's wishes, Ytur lunged at the Red that was lunging for him, extending a talon and catching Tytako by the cuticle of the horn that was right above his eye ridge, making the Red scream in agony. Ytur's eyes glowed in delight as he ripped open the skin, and allowed the blood to run down into the red eyes of his attacker. Revealing the living part of the horn that grew under the protective scales, Tytako screamed as the rivers of yellow liquid ran into his already burning eyes.

Putting his jaw over the horn, Ytur twisted his head and pulled, ripping the horn from its place in the skull, making Tytako screech, something that shook everyone who stood in the room down to the core of their very souls. Ytur held the slightly curved horn in his mouth, eyes whirling in violet and red, swirling between blood lust and rage as more yellow blood, the life of the Red, flowed down its face and onto the floor, where it began to steam and bubble, only to dissolve into the smooth stone surface. Snapping his jaw shut, Ytur broke the bone in half, the two pieces falling to the floor as well, shattering like frail glass without the magic of Tytako's life force flowing through it to make it stronger and more like the bone that it should have been.

"Tytako," the boy said, raising his cold eyes to his beast. "Do not loose like this, my Summoned. Teach this arrogant Beast and Summoner why you are second to none in your ranks. Do not fail me, my Dragon. Your reward will be just if your actions are what I desire."

With a defiant roar, through the pain that having his horn ripped out had on him, the Red Dragon called on his magic for healing, at least for stopping the bleeding and allowing him to get rid of the pain for the most part. Panting, Tytako looked defiantly at Ytur, knowing that if he gave up, there was no way, even if there was one in the first place, of him being resurrected by his Summoner.

The Black stared down at him, eyes still swirling with their violet and crimson and looking directly into those of the one it's Summoner had commanded it to kill. To destroy with as much blood on the floor as possible. Growling, Tytako lunged again, determined to at least scar this beast, so that maybe in Hell he could have bragging rights to those that had passed onto spirits before him. Maybe then, he would be able to be resurrected, stronger then he ever was before in this life. Such hope was lost, the back of his mind knew that much, however, he had to try. For his Summoner commanded it of him and he had no choice but to obey.

"Don't let him win," Senna whispered, watching how the Red was panting. She had a feeling that the Red had something more that it wasn't showing. True, she didn't know her Dragon's full potential, but then again, that could work to her disadvantage, seeing as she didn't know how far she could push Ytur and how much damage he could take, however, it seemed that her doubts were quickly put to rest, as Ytur once again went on the offensive.

Feathered wings spread in all their glory, Ytur reared up, overshadowing the Red, looking down at the injured Dragon. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, he held his breath for a second, allowing his magic to combine with the air and venom that began to fill his mouth. Tytako seemed to know what Ytur was thinking, and growled in defiance. He would have tried a counter attack, if Ytur hadn't insisted on attacking so quickly and fiercely.

Jaw opening wide, some rivers of a deep brown liquid overflowed his maw and drizzled onto the floor, making a hissing sound as it dropped through the air and landed on the floor, carving small holes where it dripped. Breathing out, the magically enhanced air, it combined with the acid and created an explosion, which was then pushed out by the Black inhaling and exhaling a quick breath, and the fireball was then thrown in the direction of the injured Red.

Tytako tried to dodge by rising into the air, however, he didn't expect the pain from his head to wash over him, slowing his reflexes and leaving his underbelly open to the attack. Screaming once again as the fire rushed from his middle to his outstretched wings, he quickly found that trying to fly would be for naught as his membrane was burnt and torn, not even close to airworthy. Panting more heavily, he realized how one sided this battle had become, and growled in defiance at being beaten by the obviously superior Black.

You were a fool to challenge me, Ytur growled, landing on all fours and stalking up to the Red, who was now laying on his back in a rather compromising position. Raising a talon, Ytur easily tore through the scale and bone until in his claw he held a beating violet heart, with rivers of green lacing through it and yellow oozing out where it tried to live and beat on, but in vain. Roaring once again, in his victory, Ytur plunged his head down and shoved the organ in his mouth, the fading Tytako watching as his life was devoured, and finally blacked out into death's waiting hands, for his soul to be carried into the deepest parts of Hell for his services to the Plane where evil called home its creatures of Darkness.

Senna snapped out of her connection with Ytur, as he opened the rift and reentered from where he came. Bakuhatsu chittered in her ear softly, trying to reassure her that it was over and that the Beast was smart enough to go off on its own. However, she couldn't get out of her mind that she had Summoned a Black, the strongest of all Dragon kind and beat a Red like it was nothing more then a mere Yellow. Looking at the dead Dragon that lay on the stone floor, she just couldn't help but stare at it, wondering what the hell happened. She had Summoned a Dragon to kill another, and succeeded without a blink of the eye.

Vlad looked at the scene before him, but stayed in the shadows. He looked at the Mortals, and knew that he didn't want to appear from the shadows just yet. The other Immortals hadn't seemed to notice him yet, which he found a blessing in disguise. He didn't want to be noticed until something big happened, and he had a feeling that it was very close to happening.

"Congratulations," the opposing team owner said, applauding. "You have truly earned your victory with a splendid show of strength and skill. You have a very talented Summoner on your hands, I must commend you to perfecting her skills like you have. You have done rather well for yourself."

Senna bowed at the comments, like she was taught to when she was younger and had first started fighting for this family's honor, as well as her own. But there was a sinking feeling that this wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. Bakuhatsu must have felt her anxiety, as he became restless and curled around her more defensively and glared at the other two beings that were on the other side of the ring.

The Summoner threw back his hood, revealing his icy cold eyes and short white hair, as well as fair skin that rivaled Vlad's own. On his face he wore a wicked smile, one that Vlad knew as devious since he had seen it and used it many times before. He ran out of the shadows, making the idiot Mortals yell in surprise and spread his wings to their full span, trying his hardest to protect Senna from whatever spell the Fallen was casting. However, it seemed like he was too late, and just walked into it as well. Maybe rushing out wasn't such a smart move after all.

"Fool," the little Summoner laughed, as a portal opened up in the center of the arena.

Vlad stared down into the black pit, and recognized the smell almost immediately. It was of fire and brimstone, the eternal blackness from which he was cast down with a third of the Heavenly Host in the Fall. It was his home, his life, it was Hell in all its glory.

Senna watched as Vlad stared into whatever was in the center of the floor, her view blocked by an array of feathers as she was frozen to her spot, much like when she Summoned her Fallen Guardian. However, she could tell it was some sort of spell, since she could feel them all being sucked into the center of the arena, and not being able to do anything to even attempt to stop it. Vlad turned around, and enveloped Senna in his wings, trying his hardest to bear the pain of falling through the barrier as well as protecting his charge. He just had a feeling that this would be a bad day. Why the hell did he have to be right?

Watching them fall into the pit, the Summoner looked up at the one who was assumed to own him, clear eyes loosing some of their sinister tint. "Lord Vicious, do you wish that I accompany them or do you believe that Mishi will be able to handle them on his own?"

"Go to your home, Noel," Vicious replied. "I will rejoin the ranks as soon as I am allowed by my punishment, which is set to expire when this Mortal body does. Now be off with you. I may be in more trouble for even helping you with your conquest."

Bowing, Noel took off into the portal, unsealing his wings and allowing them to protect him from the barrier's intense heat and the initial blast that signaled that he indeed had made it to his home that he was created in. Standing on the barren wasteland, he looked around, smiling at the desolation that surrounded him. He was home, back to begin his plans for the Angel of Oblivion for his own gain. He was Noel, Head of the Fallen Angels of Ice, and wanting nothing more then to rule the rest of them, with an icy fist that would not be broken.

Senna entered the castle once more, Vlad with Bakuhatsu on his shoulder right behind her. She tried not to notice them, or at least the Fallen Angel that persisted that he was sent to guard her against something. She didn't know a thing of what he talked about when she Summoned him, about being a Halfling and Hell in turmoil, and about Namoki. She shook her head and dismissed those thoughts. Whatever the reason, she was stuck with him with no way to send him back.

Vlad on the other hand, was enveloped in his own worries. Senna didn't remember anything of her previous life, just as Namoki had warned him. But he didn't believe that to be all truth, that somehow, he could trigger the old memories and let her take care of this uprising in Hell with her influence and Dragons. Even the Fallen of Shadow would follow her to the ends of the planes of Heaven, Hell, and Mortal. Even Oblivion since she was, in lamest terms, their 'princess' if she could even be called that. Then, Bakuhatsu, sent by Namor, couldn't even help him since he couldn't speak at all because of a reason unknown to him. This was bad from all angles and he had no way to even begin to try to fix anything.

“You! How dare you accept another being into this castle! From what I know, you have no right to do anything like that!”

All three of them looked behind them, and standing there in all his pampered spoiled glory, stood Dalal. Vlad eyed the boy, and figured that he didn't like Senna nor his presence in this area of the castle. He snorted in response, wanting nothing to do with this young idiot. He had watched him for years, and decided that he didn't like this boy, treating Senna like dirt every time he saw her, how he picked on her as a child and how hard he made her mother work just because she did something he didn't directly approve of. Well, it was time for the Fallen Angel to say a few things that he felt this child needed. Badly.

“Dalal, not right now,” Senna groaned, beating Vlad in voicing her opinion first and holding her head.

“No,” Dalal yelled, passing Vlad and coming right up to Senna's face. “You act like you run this place. You're nothing but a measly little slave that just happens to rake in some cash every once in awhile by exploiting a mythical being to fight for no reason. You're lower then low.”

“You're even lower,” Vlad replied, picking Dalal up by his shirt collar and brining the boy face to face with him. “You have done nothing but exploit other's weaknesses and take the credit for other's hard work as your own. That and you insulted my charge. As a Guardian, I can't have that since I can help it now. I have always been here, and now, you can see me.” He smirked, as if seeing something that none of the others could see. In fact, he could. The boy's Guardian Angel stood behind Dalal, arms folded and white robes flowing around his body. Green eyes filled with loathing and scowl planted on a prefect face made Vlad feel that much more superior. “It looks as if your Guardian has been slacking in the morals department. It's sad when a Fallen takes better care of their charge then one from Heaven.”

“You can't be a Fallen Angel,” Dalal exclaimed. “They're all confined to Hell!”

“Looks like there are loopholes now, doesn't it,” Vlad smiled, dropping him onto the cold floor. “Get out of my sight. I don't feel like dealing with you or your incompetent Guardian.”

Dalal got up and ran, where, the trio didn't know nor cared. As long as he was gone.

“You really are a Fallen Angel,” Senna said, looking at him with fearful eyes.

“Your Guardian sent by your father,” Vlad replied. “I told you when you Summoned me.”

Senna didn't say anything to him, and turned away. She whistled a short high pitched whistle, and Bakuhatsu was on her shoulder in a flash. She felt a little safer with the Dragon on her shoulder. She didn't believe that Vlad was a Fallen, since she was told that those Angels that were sent to Hell were out for souls and nothing more. He protected her, and didn't even steal Dalal's soul. He was just an Angel with black wings, and she left her musings at that.

Vlad sighed as he followed Senna to wherever she wanted to go. He had to somehow make her understand the dire situation. Guardians were never to appear before their charges unless it was important, that was why he made himself known and tapped into the power the ancient Summoners left behind. Yes, she was supposed to reach the next color that time, the Gray Dragon. Hell, even skipping the Wyvern at that. But this was more important then her status here. If things kept escalating down in Hell like they were, Heaven and the Mortal plane would be in danger again. That also meant that Senna would be as well.

Senna led the way back to her quarters, or her closet as she called it. But she didn't have to share it, unlike most slaves, so she considered herself lucky that she could have something that was truly her own and not someone else's. She waited for Vlad to enter before closing her door and then plopping down into the pile of hay. Bakuhatsu had perched on the small window sill, observing the two figures.

“Is this where you stay,” Vlad asked, not hiding that he was clearly disgusted with her living arrangements.

“Yah,” Senna replied. “I get it all to myself. I don't have to share with anyone. If you can believe it, they usually make five people sleep in these rooms! The only reason I get my own is because of my 'gift'.”

“If only you didn't try to kill Namor,” Vlad sighed. “Then you'd be in Heaven, training for your role.”

“Who's that,” Senna asked. “You keep throwing these names around and I have no idea what is going on!”

“I cannot tell you now,” Vlad sighed, leaning up against the door. Looking at her hurt look, he knew that this mission was going to be the hardest he had in a long time. “It's just the way things are right now. If acceptable, you'll remember on your own. If not, then you'll just go on with life. The powers higher then yourself may even want to erase this if it puts your punishment in danger. But lets not worry about that right now. It's unnerving me just thinking about it.”

Senna did just that. She didn't like the sad tone Vlad took as he furthered his explanation. For some reason, it pained her to see the Fallen look so far away and sad. “I see... Well, either way, thanks for dealing with Dalal. I think you scared him enough.”

“I hope I did,” Vlad smiled wickedly. “I even got to insult an Angel while I was at it. It was his fault for not doing his job right. But I guess that's what the young ones are doing now days. Letting Fate take the fall for everything.”

“Young ones,” Senna said, tilting her head to the side. “I thought all you Angels were the same.”

Vlad shrugged. “Some of them were created after the Fall to replenish Heaven's defenses. But apparently, they seem to have trouble in training them right.”

“And you were,” she asked. “Because if you were, why are you a Fallen now?”

Damn this kid is sharp, Vlad thought to himself, looking at her with a stunned face. He wasn't expecting her to be so perceptive, especially being reduced to a mere mortal like she had become. Even though she was a gifted mortal, he didn't expect her to catch on so quickly. From his point of view, mortals were just down right stupid.

“It's a little different now,” Vlad explained. “They don't have as may experienced Angels anymore. A third of us Fell, so that left Heaven to create more in a hurry. However, in that hurry, it seems they neglected some of that training.”

“Like what,” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“You're just a well of questions aren't you,” Vlad replied dryly.

“I have to be,” she responded. “There's nothing else here to keep my attention long enough.”

Having a look around the small quarters again, he could see why. Bakuhatsu had yet to leave his perch, and stared at them with his golden eyes, tail twitching in his boredom. That was another mystery that made Vlad think something was wrong. He was surely the Dragon sent by Nimora, so why couldn't he communicate like the other ones? Something must have happened. So that meant this was going bad right from the start of the whole thing, not just this uprising in Hell. This was bad. Very bad.

“What's wrong with the Dragon,” Vlad asked, looking at the Wyvern. “He's rather quiet.”

“He's a mute,” Senna replied, raising her arm. On command, the Dragon left his perch, and glided down to her arm. Curling around her neck, he glared at Vlad, like he was scorning the Fallen for making fun of him. “It's a curse, or so Singe told me.”

“Who's Singe,” Vlad asked. At least she had contact with him. That was a good sign in all these bad ones.

“The Highest Navy Blue, or so he told me,” she replied.

“He didn't lie,” Vlad smiled. “He really is the High Navy Blue, and it's very good you had contact with him. This may help my mission in more ways then one.”

A million questions poured through her mind as Senna looked at Vlad, wondering what was going on. All she wanted to do was cause some trouble for Dalal and his family. Her usual routine that rarely got interrupted, but this was much more then an interruption. She felt like this was somehow predestined, like there was no avoiding it. She didn't like what was happening though. There was something wrong, like a wrong tuned note in an orchestra. This wasn't sitting well with her, but she could tell that the other two in the room felt remotely the same way.

-Flash to Hell, because I still haven't found a kick butt separator-

Kaggren sat on his throne, scowl on his face, as he looked out one of the large windows. Chin resting in his palm, elbow resting on the arm of his chair, he looked out at Hell, fires sprouting from the depths and beasts flying in the air. Something was wrong. The air had a chill, one that was unnatural. But Vicious, the Former Leader of the Fallen Angels of Ice, was destroyed. His soul and all remains brought down by Senna in the uprising he tried to force upon them all. Sighing, he wished that Raven, his old friend and councilor, wasn't dead as well. Senna killed so many that day, if she didn't, though, it was said that Oblivion wouldn't be what it was meant to become. What that was, it was another mystery to him.,

Noel, the new Leader of the Fallen Angels of Ice, was somewhat more peaceful, but that didn't mean a thing. Kaggren would never trust those of the Ice's decent ever again, not after what they did to his only daughter. Growling again, he narrowed his eyes at the territory that was his unofficial enemy's, wondering what they had up their sleeve this time, because he knew Noel. He was Vicious' little underling until he grown too powerful and was cast aside. Always bitter, he knew the little one would try to do something to equal his former idol's.

But he was stuck again, because this peace that had settled after Senna's little killing spree had lasted so long among the all the sides. He really didn't want to ruin it, yet. Knowing that he would have to one of these days, he sighed. This time, it wouldn't be a little uprising. This time, he feared, it was going to turn into a full blown war.

She was warm. That's all she could feel. Warmth, safety, and a pulsing white light. Not the bright light, but a calm, soothing. Not blinding or hindering her sight in any way, nor trying to overwhelm her with the harshness of its color. Just existing, like she was now. Neither Heaven nor Hell, but like a Limbo, waiting area to confine those who were going to either plane. It was so comforting though, so she decided that it wasn't a bad thing to be exist here, although it felt odd to be alone.

“Where...”

“Here,” a voice said. It sounded so familiar, but she couldn't place it. “Now, go. Your punishment awaits you.”

Then, everything went back.

~~~~~On the Mortal Plane. Dimension One.~~~~

The sun floated through the small, high window that lighted a cramped stone room. On a bed of hay, Senna stretched and yawned, not yet ready to wake up. She curled up in a ball, trying to run from the morning's light that invaded her dreams. Dreams of things she knew that were important came in and out of focus, but the results of her grappling remained the same each morning She'd never remember them, nor the messages that they held.

Finding that resistance was futile, she sat up, looking disheveled and groggy. Stray strands of hay poked out from her black hair, as golden eyes looked sleepily around her small quarters. A poor excuse for a blanket covered her legs, clothed by long burlap shorts that revealed tanned skin as she moved to get up and start her daily routine. She wore a white long sleeved shirt to help with the chill, which seemed to seep into this place even in high summer. Bare feet padded across the cold floor to the door, which was only about four steps away.

She stopped short of opening it, turned around, and walked to a small pile of clothes that was left out for her. Her mother was a kind woman, and always had a clean pair of clothes out and ready for whenever she decided to wake up. She dressed quickly, not wanting to spend too much time out in the cold of this forsaken place. Her clothes consisted of long cotton shorts and a short sleeved green shirt with the emblem of a Dragon on it, something that told of her position in this place.

Senna was a Summoner, someone who could summon Dragons to the plane of the mortals. The existence of her kind was kept a secret, and only those of the most wealthy families were able to know of this unique kind of human. They all had the Eyes of the Dragon, and therefore were rumored to once have been a part of them, hence their ability to be able to call them forth from the planes that they usually reside. Each wealthy family had at least one Summoner, and made them summon the Dragons to duel and to see which Summoner had the strength and will to control the beast they had summoned.

Dragons themselves had colors and body types, that told of their skill level and abilities. The colors going from weakest to strongest went yellow, tan, orange, brown, turquoise, navy blue, red, gray, and black. The markings told of their sires, but solid colors were the most sought after, since they held the strongest abilities. The body types from weakest to strongest went Wyvern, bulky, slim, slim and toned, and the rare feathered winged Dragons, who had the strongest abilities of all.
'
Currently, at the age of sixteen, Senna could summon Red Dragons of the slim type, which was almost unheard of for her age group of Summoners. Most adults had Red Wyverns as their limit, but Senna had always been exceptional with her skills, the Summoning part anyway. Controlling them was a whole different matter. She could only control the Red Wyverns with any sort of confidence and had summoned the Red Slim by complete accident. Luckily, the Dragon was relatively understanding and allowed her to let it go back to wherever it had come from.

Usually when something like that happened, disaster followed and legends were born. Castles and kingdoms were torn apart and a Dragon Slayer would have to come to kill the beast, or it would get bored and return to it's own plane by going to a Summoner or Magician. Senna had been very fortunate in the incident, and vowed to try only control the ones she knew she could until she was sure she could Summon the stronger ones.

She went for the kitchens, which were down the hallway from her 'room' and right to the right where the hallway veered into the main coordinator of the castle. The kitchen was already bustling in activity as she entered through the thick wooden door that was designed to keep the heat and commotion from going out into all the places where it wouldn't be so acceptable. Ovens roasted breads and deserts for the lunch that would be soon coming after breakfast, as cooks and the servants all ran about, either gathering food for those who owned them or finishing the preparations on the dishes that were to be served.

Senna quickly closed the door behind her, hoping that no one noticed her entrance. But her luck was rarely any good with sneaking around these people. The owners, to her, were dumb as rocks and she could therefore do whatever she pleased, except here. Either her mother or Vanessa, the head cook, caught her whenever she did come.

This time, it was Vanessa.
“What do ya think you're doing',” the large woman asked, placing fat hands on fat hips. She was overweight, tall, and one of the scariest people who lived in the place. Dressed in a long gray dress with what was once a white apron, that was now covered in dough and speckles of chocolate. Frizzy red hair was atop her head and glaring blue eyes made anyone bend to her will. Although one could find kindness to this woman if they knew her long enough, her strictness was her most dominant trait.

“Getting something to eat,” Senna squeaked. It was true, she'd rather come down here and make something herself rather then have someone else do it. Because of her being a Summoner, she was just above the highest paid servant in authority. However, Senna didn't see that as any reason that she should make them do whatever she asked them. The only reason she was higher then them was because she was born with a talent that was greatly coveted. Otherwise, she'd just be another lowly slave, like her mother.

“Child,” Vanessa cried, throwing her hands up into the air. “I have told you time and time again! Just make the rest of 'em do it!”

“But...,” Senna began in protest, but Vanessa would have nothing to do with it.

“You,” she shouted, pointing at some girl that Senna had never seen around before. The Master of the House must have bought a new slave in the past week. “Get this young 'en somethin' to eat!”

The girl scampered off, and soon returned with some fresh bread and an egg. Senna thanked the girl and slipped back out of the kitchen, not wanting to face the wrath of Vanessa a second time before lunch. She saved tormenting the head cook until after lunch, mostly begging to help with getting dinner ready. Sometimes, it worked but most of the time she was sent away to go find something else to occupy her time.

She took her food outside, to a large shade tree that she had claimed years ago. It had a few low branches for her to pull herself up on to climb it, and it was the easiest place for her to summon Dragons, since most of them came through the dimensional rift flying anyway. It was like they knew exactly what they were called on for, or at least had an idea. To see a Summoned Dragon was something to behold, because that is when they look their fiercest and worthy of their reputations as terrible beasts.

After inhaling her food, she decided to Summon her little familiar, Bakuhatsu. Bakuhatsu was a small red Wyvern, the first Dragon she had ever Summoned to this plane. A familiar was a Dragon that was treated like a Summoner's second half, their link to the Dragons. They could relay messages and help to call a Dragon if it was needed more urgently then another that was readily available for them to contact. They were also used to be a Summoner's closest friend, since most were lonely people because others feared their power and what they could do with it whenever they were feeling a little moody.

She drew a circle on the ground, and then a triangle inside and another outside the circle. Runes that she didn't know the meanings of were drawn at all the points, and then a cross encased in wings. Standing on the cross, she spread her arms and began chanting in a language that had been dead to man since the dawn of time. However, it felt so familiar, like she once knew what these words meant and she knew how powerful they really were, but she couldn't place them anymore. Like a memory long forgotten after not being used for so long. Not dwelling on this, she focused on bringing Bakuhatsu to her plane, to help alleviate her boredom.

The Wyvern came through the rift, flying right above Senna's head and calling out to whoever may have been challenging it. He was the length of her arm from nose to tail tip, with it's body reaching just past her elbow where the tail continued to become whip like and decorated with spikes. Shining crimson scales flashed in the early morning light as did four navy blue horns and the trail of spikes that flowed down his back. Eyes of the same golden color as Senna's kept watch for any danger, as tattered wings that easily spread the length of Senna's arm span gave the beast flight in the still air. Talons were tucked tightly to his slim body, making him like a dart when he wanted to be. One of the most perfect looking Wyverns of all the ones Senna had seen, and this one was her familiar.

Senna smiled as she watched him dart through the air, apparently enjoying the freedom he was granted. She didn't know what it was like to travel through the rift, nor was she in any hurry to find out. It was said that the Realm of the Dragons was cursed and any Human, Summoner and non Summoner alike, could get in but never get out. Many horror stories came from this fictional plane and the great things it held.

“Bakuhatsu,” Senna shouted in a greeting, chasing after the Dragon. “Ready to cause trouble today?”

The Dragon looked over from where he was flying, and turned around to land on her shoulder. He wasn't as heavy as anyone would have thought, having scales and such, but still not the lightest thing to be carrying around on the shoulders. Senna had become used for being her familiars perch, and didn't complain much.

He chirped the affirmative, or at least what Senna took as the affirmative. Whether Bakuhatsu liked it or not, they were going to cause some trouble for the higher ups today. She hated the fact that they had everything offered to them by the slaves and tenants that worked to their deaths to please their 'Masters'. She wasn't too fond of any of them, and only did her duty so that she could continue to have her own room and her mother could stay here. She especially hated them after hearing the horror stories some of the other slaves told and seeing some of her opponent's scars that weren't from battle.

She went back to the castle, and entered through the main doors, something most other residents couldn't do unless they wanted to be beat or executed. Both of which were activities routinely carries out through the day. However, no one in their right mind would attack her with a Dragon on her shoulder, or period since it was commonly feared that Summoners, when agitated enough, could Summon Dragons without a Circle at all. She was given a wary look by the doorkeeper, but he said nothing as she passed him by. Bakuhatsu hissed at him, something that made the old man back away a few steps. A hissing Dragon was never a good thing, and he had the burn scars to prove it after crossing the little beast before.

“Senna,” a boy of about her age of 17, dressed in fine violet velvet and wine said in a kind tone. He was tall and stood over her at almost six feet, just a few inches above her 5'8” with short messy blonde hair and looking at her with amused violet eyes. “What are you doing around here?”

Senna glared at the boy, and continued on her path. The only son of her Master, he was spoiled rotten with the earnings that she made on defeating those that challenged her. She didn't like him and found him rather annoying. If she had anything her way, he'd be thrown into the slave quarters to rot the rest of his days away. Just the thought of it made her smile. “Nothing that concerns you,” she replied. “Now leave me alone before I let Bakuhatsu roast you.”

The boy frowned, clearly displeased with her response. “Why are you always so testy?”

“The same reason you're stupid,” Senna replied, walking away. Bakuhatsu hissed at him, making the boy take a step back.

“You can't treat me like that,” he yelled after her.

Senna stopped dead in her tracks, turned around, and gave him a glare a Dragon would have been proud of. "Dalal, shut up before I really do let Bakuhatsu lite you on fire.” With that, she turned back around and continued like she never said a word.

She hated that kid, and if she knew that she would never get caught, she would have acted on her threat. She was not one to be messed with, especially with it being barely after breakfast. She usually wasn't all to pleasant to be around until after lunch, and even then she was trying to work in the kitchens.

Deciding that she had nothing better to do, she opted to go find her mother and help her with the daily chores. Her mother was a maid, so she cleaned all the rooms of the castle once a week in a routine that Senna knew like the back of her hand. Looking outside for a quick second to determine the time, she went for the room her mother was sure to be finishing up.

Senna's mother was a kind older woman of late thirties, with graying hair that was once a platinum blonde color. Sharp blue eyes focused on her current task of putting clean linen on the beds and rearranging the pillows. She was a little shorter then Senna now, and wore a gray dress with a white apron.

Senna came into the room, Bakuhatsu leaving her shoulders to perch on one of the four posters that rose over the bed. “Can I help?”

“Senna,” her mother yelled in surprise. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be training? You have a match in a few days and from the rumors I've heard, this boy's no pushover like the last ones. You should be more worried about that then what I'm doing! Now out with you! Go to the fields and train if you want something to do!”

Senna sighed. It was true that in a few days she would have to Summon and control a Dragon, but she wasn't too worried about it. In fact, she rarely was. Unless her opponent could Summon a Black, she really wasn't all that worried. She was the best, and there was no pride in that statement or anything self satisfying. She had been told that by her Master, Dragons, hell, even those that lost to her. She still needed to practice though. For her, being the best meant Summoning a Black, a strong Black at that. Then, she could get her and her mother out of bondage, because there was no way to stop a Black on a rampage, unless the one controlling it told it to stop.

Finding her way to the field her mother had specified, Senna stopped dead in the middle and sighed. There was once a grand temple here, that had since been destroyed in an effort to stop 'her kind' from dominating the world with their powers by disallowing them to expand too far. The Circle that was underneath the temple still existed, a hidden treasure that no one but she and the Dragons knew about. Everyone just thought the field to be a prime place to practice because of it's large size and little distance away from the castle. Little did they know that the foundation and underground chambers were never completely destroyed, and magic still was able to access the runes that all Summoners knew at birth.

Bakuhatsu circled in from above, flapping tattered looking wings in the light breeze he created by his flight. He could feel the magic moving deep within the ground, and was calling to it. He was a child of magic, so it was like an infant crying to it's mother, it's creator to come and help it in anyway it can. All Senna had to do was call for it to come up, he had done the rest by awakening it from its slumber.

Senna knew of the old temple's existence, and stood on the center point, which was also the center point of the field. Why nothing was build on or around the place was a mystery to her, but she never thought about it too much. As long as this place was here and gave her peace to practice, that was all that mattered. So no one wanted to build here. That just meant they most likely thought that the place was cursed. In the end, it worked out for her.

She closed her eyes, to see what was calling to her. An image appeared, but it wasn't that of a Dragon. It had a human feature to it, but the eyes were an eerie aqua color and hair jet black and long, falling over the shoulders and great black wings. A cocky smile adorned the creamy face, one that she didn't really care for at the moment.

When she opened her eyes to try again, the ground below her began to glow a yellow light. She had awakened the magic? But how? She didn't call the soul and body forth, nothing should have happened!

“Bakuhatsu,” she yelled, finding that she was planted in her spot. She had never been rooted like this before. Something was wrong, very wrong. The Dragon could only fly in circles, powerless to do anything.

Senna soon become very nervous for a number of reasons, including the fact that her familiar wasn't doing anything to help her. The rest of her reasons were with what happened before she had become intertwined with the magic. First off, she had seen a rather human looking face. That sent off warning flares in her head. Was that what happened when someone entered the Realm of the Dragons? They become something else and only get let back on the plane of their natural birth? If she were able, she would have started to shake, but the magic had tied too deeply into her already.

As suddenly as it started, the glowing stopped, and for a brief second Senna was relieved that nothing had happened. But upon turning around, she was face to face with the face that had appeared when she closed her eyes. He was taller then her by a least a foot, and had those gleaming aqua eyes that had peered into her mind now peered down from her under dark heavy bangs. Robes of dark gray and navy blue flowed in the light morning breeze, as did wings of black that shone a crimson when the feathers hit the light.

The figure approached, and then bowed at her feet. Senna looked down at him, wide eyed and a little scared. Why was such a being bowing to her? Who was he? What was his business with her?

“Daughter of the Leader of the Fallen,” the being spoke. “I am humbled that you Summoned me, Mistress.”

“I have no clue who you are, why I Summoned you, nor do I know the Leader of the Fallen, whoever that is,” Senna said, taking a step back.

Bakuhatsu looked at the guy, back to Senna, confused on why she didn't acknowledge him. Then it was true, she had lost all memory of her former life and glory! Here he was thinking that she was just trying to play the part of a lonely mortal in a world in which she did not belong. He twittered at the kneeling man, trying to tell him that she didn't remember. Damn this curse for not being able to communicate properly!

“You do not remember any of us. That is a shame.” He rose back to his feet, glaring down at Senna. “I am your Guardian, appointed by Kaggren, Leader of the Fallen of the Shadows. I am Vlad, your appointed one. You are Senna, Heir to the Throne of Oblivion and Halfling Queen.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” Senna said, staring up at him. “I'm just a slave girl that happens to possess the Eyes of the Dragon. That's it. If it weren't for that, I'd be in the kitchens or with my mother cleaning rooms.”

“Such a lowly state they have you at,” Vlad sighed. “To think, Namoki would approve of such a thing!”

Senna's mind kept coming up with more questions then she had answers to. Who was this Namoki? What was Oblivion? What was even a Halfling Queen? “You're off your rocker,” Senna finally decided, turning to leave. After this, she really didn't need to Summon anything. That and she was a little afraid of what else may come from the Realm of the Dragons.

Vlad followed her, as did Bakuhatsu. The Dragon landed on Senna's shoulder, and kept looking back to Vlad and then Senna. He sorely wished that he could explain everything that was going on, but he had been cursed as a Hatchling to be mute for the rest of his days, that or if someone could lift this curse. Getting tired of turning his snaking neck all the way around, he left Senna's shoulders to perch on Vlad's, who didn't seem to mind and rubbed the Wyvern's nose.

“Little one, it seems you can't speak like the others,” Vlad whispered. “But don't worry. I mean her no harm.”

Bakuhatsu knew that already. If he could only explain!

“Many trials are to come. Hell is in turmoil again,” Vlad explained. “And with this new uprising, I'm afraid this plane won't go unscathed unlike the Hell was, little one.”

That disturbed the Dragon greatly. But again, the only thing he could do was remain close to Senna and pray to whatever deity listened to a Dragon that it all turned out to be nothing once again.