Fallen Ones

Prologue


The world of Alzaeon was shattering by the relentless wars between the races. The humans fought the elves, the elves fought the dwarves, and the dwarves fought the centaurs.
But a battle between Light and Darkness shattered even the races.
Where many fought to protect the Light; others fell to fight with Darkness.
Trust was shattered in all the regions of the world, and in a time of battle—which will come to be known as the Throe Wars—Darkness threatens all life.
Then, out of the night on a dying summer, a sorceress of great might screamed to the world a prophecy, and her dying lips bid the living a warning. The prophecy spoke of three brothers who will bring to the world the Age of Oblivion, and break the world asunder.
…The firstborn was to bring horror and distrust.
……The second was to bring devastation and pain.
………The third was to bring passion and loyalty.
The prophecy, however, spoke of no coming peace—but more destruction. It was spoken that the Children will be born by an Elven Beauty. She was to bare within her the seeds of a father and son, and give birth under the full moon in the heart of winter. And the Children will spread through the lands with the traces of their demonic selves in their eyes. As is spoken, they will be the beacons of change.
The sorcerers of the world banded together to prevent the three from being born and sought to change the impending future, fearing the worst of the coming brothers.
But Darkness blooms in places where the Light is weak…


The throne room was silent as the guards slowly left the doors. Glancing over their armored shoulders, they gazed upon their king and his children in concern. The Elven land of Valderan was in woe at the unexpected death of their Queen Ayala. Grief was drowned by anger when it was discovered that she had been poisoned, and King Alfane sent out his four valiant sons to do war on those blamed.
The four princes fought and avenged their mother. Aditya, the Crown Prince, was killed in war unexpectedly with his youngest brother Arias. Out of the four brothers, there remained two princes, Aldaine and Ashrad. Aldaine, being the eldest of them both, was now Crown Prince, and returned with his brother with victory in his eyes.
Days passed in Valderan in where the fallen princes were mourned and vengeance was met. Ashrad grew ill with each passing day, and was watched over the youngest sibling in the royal family—the Princess Alayana. On his death, she wept greatly and watched her father like a grieving mother. Though she had recently reached the age of womanhood, she was already spoken to be the beauty of the Elven nations.
Though she was a princess, she studied no arts in magic or in war, and remained the caring supporter of her father. It was late night when the remaining prince, Aldaine, vanished into the night for six days. He returned solemnly telling no one of where he had gone. Now he stood before his father in the throne room to tell him of his deeds.
He waited, as did his father and sister. The king and princess tried to read the prince’s eyes, though he remained immobile and unaffected. No one spoke a word until the doors were closed behind the last guard. When the doors shut with a drastic boom, Aldaine took a deep calming breath.
Robed in white and green, the King Alfane of Valderan shrugged his long brown hair off his shoulder and gazed down into his hands from where he sat upon his large throne.
Standing near where her father sat, the Princess Alayana glanced up at her brother with bright emerald eyes. Her golden hair cascaded down between her bare shoulders to sway at her jeweled waist. Wearing a rich green gown that matched her eyes, she was a beauty to behold.
Her usual soft expression was confused, and she now gazed at her brother with uncertainty. Ignoring her gaze, Aldaine approached his father, trembling with fear and excitement. Falling to his knee, he gazed up to see his father avoiding his gaze. Taking his fathers hands within his own, he lowered his head in defeat and sorrow.
“Father,” He said softly, though his words drifted emptily throughout the throne room, “forgive me…”
Lifting his eyes to gaze at his heir, he murmured, “Forgive you? What have you done that needs my forgiving?”
Alayana shifted uncomfortably when her eyes fell upon the sword at his hip. Aldaine knew well not to bring a weapon within the walls of the throne room, and yet he crouched there. Narrowing her eyes, she began watching her golden haired brother closely and suspiciously.
“I have sinned…” Aldaine admitted softly.
Brows lowering, Alfane replied just as softly, “What kind of sin?”
A smile twitched on his lips that only Alayana saw. She shivered and gripped her fathers shoulder in a growing fear. Alfane closed his eyes momentarily, and opened them to see his son staring at him from where he crouched.
“The Light is no longer my sanctuary,” Aldaine declared, his pale eyes glowing with expectation.
Alayana gasped in horror and Alfane stiffened. “Are you telling me that you no longer serve the Light?”
“Yes.”
Alfane grew stiff, “Why do you tell me this?”
Aldaine remained quiet, though he softly stroked his father’s knuckles in a loving way.
Alayana’s eyes watered, and she asked “When?—why!”
“When did I turn?” Aldaine said. He paused, seeming to think of the answer, “It has actually been a few months—days before mother’s…unexpected…death.”
The silence that followed deepened the hearts of the king and the princess. Confusion marred Alayana’s face, and Alfane grew heavily suspicious at how his son had spoken those words. The silence weighed greatly, and made the prince lower his head in what seemed to be regret.
“Do you seek help?” Alfane whispered.
Anger flew upon the expressionless face of Aldaine. He rose to his feet quickly, causing his sister to leap forward and embrace her father protectively. “I seek no redemption!” He shouted with his hands clenched in hatred, “I seek no aid, I seek no help!”
Alfane pried his daughter away, though he pushed her to hide behind the throne. Rising to his feet, he noticed how dark his son had become. The hatred he had never detected now pulsed on his sons face, and the Darkness swarmed within his pale eyes like blood.
“Why have you come to tell me then?” Alfane’s anger made his face to flush, though his eyes were confused and sorrowful.
The anger in Aldaine’ face vanished, and a serene smile spread upon his face, “My Master sent me to tell you.”
”Y-your Master?” Alfane said, horror leaping to his face. “Why? Why does he wish me to know?”
“You were meant to know before death…” Aldaine replied.
Alayana gasped and cried, “Aldaine! What are you saying?”
“So you have been sent to slay your own father?” Alfane said, though he knew the answer.
“That isn’t all I have come for.”
Alfane glared at his son, “What else is there?”
Aldaine lowered his eyes in mockery, and then meaningfully gazed over at his sister.
“Do not look at my daughter like that fiend!” Alfane roared, stepping between them to shield his daughter from his son’s eyes.
“My Master has given me much powers father—powers that old sorcerers can only fathom of,” Aldaine stepped forward to his father with disrespect and contempt, “You bare no such powers to even light a candle father; and I—I can do things you cannot even think about!”
Alfane leaped forward with a cry of anger. With a hiss, Aldaine unsheathed his blade and gave a harsh gasp of victory as it came away red with the blood of his father. Alfane fell to his knees before his fallen son, pressing a hand to his throbbing chest in dismay.
Alayana screamed in horror, staring at her dying father. The throne doors banged open as guards rushed within the room to take in a scene of terror. As Alfane fell upon the ground and the guards came running forward, Aldaine strode towards his sister and grabbed her throat and clenched.
Her scream cut off, though she struggled against him. He didn’t hold her tight enough to cut off her breathing, but hard enough to cause pain. Staring into his cold eyes with frightened ones, Alayana clawed at his face. Their surroundings shifted with a whirl of colors, and in panic, Alayana realized she was being taken to her brother’s Master.
With a push, Aldaine released his sister and looked away with pride.
Alayana stumbled on the hem of her gown and fell to the cold ground beneath her. With a sob, she rubbed her throat and wept. Fear cloaked her as she gazed up at her brother again. He stood straight and strong like a knight, with the bloodstained sword in his hand.
“Master,” He said, “Here is your Elven Beauty my Lord—I give to you the Princess Alayana of Valderan!”
Alayana began to tremble in horror as she followed her brother’s gaze. Rising to her knees, she gazed into the eyes of a demon and screamed.

Alayana lay naked and aware. The altar that she was tied to was cold and hard, and the cloaked figures standing around the altar were the same. Candle and torchlight lit the domed room, and the soft chanting of the dark figures filled the air. She trembled and cried, trying to hide her nudity, though her fears made her seek to claw away.
A door opened from beyond the circle, and the chanting ceased.
Alayana struggled to gaze at the newcomer, but to no avail. Though, from where she could not see, he came forward. Naked as was she, a man strode towards her, and gazed into her eyes with violet ones. His dark hair shyly brushed his shoulders, and his muscles rippled tauntingly at her.
Though he said nothing, she knew who he was.
“No!” She shrieked, “No!”
It was Mithrail, the demonic heir of Orious, the Demon King. As she screamed, he smiled and stroked back her golden hair with a cold hand. His gaze wandered and he watched with interest at how her limbs moved as she struggled.
“What do you want from me?” She wept, turning her face from him.
“You have been given a great honor,” He replied softly and arrogantly. His voice was as beautiful as his face. From where his hand had been stroking her head, his fingers trailed over her face and all the way down to her hip. “You have been chosen to give birth to prophecy.”
Alayana began to scream and struggle in complete horror, and tossed her head from side to side with insanity. “No!” She screamed.
The dark figures around them began to whisper, as one stepped forward. He grabbed her head to remain still as Mithrail pressed a cup to her lips. When she closed her mouth tight, Mithrail pried her lips apart.
A burning liquid raced into her mouth as she sought to spit it out. The dark figure, however, closed her mouth and her nose, forcing her to swallow. When the liquid was swallowed, the figure released her and rejoined the others.
As she wept in defeat, Mithrail watched.
Her mind grew heavy then, and her vision blurred. Her struggling ceased and she watched with unfocused eyes as Mithrail mounted the small steps of the altar. From around them, the dark figures released her useless limbs from the chains and retreated just as quickly. She struggled again, though even she knew it was hopeless. Her mind screamed as her body lay, and tears poured out of her eyes with vain.
A moan of protest passed her lips as he spread open her legs. Pressing his body against hers, he took her mouth in his and tasted the young maiden who was to bare his children. The stone altar had warmed beneath her, though he was as cold as the altar had been in the beginning.
His cool lips trailed down her throat. After his assault on her throat, his tongue trailed lower. Then as he began to suckle her breast harshly, the dark figures said clearly, “And so the Children with drink from.”
Alayana arched beneath Mithrail, though her mind screamed at her body not to reply to his. Biting her lower lip, Alayana shook her head and gave a cry. Swollen and red, her breasts cooled quickly as he went lower.
“The womb of which the Children will come from,” The figures said when Mithrail caressed her stomach with his mouth. Then he drew himself lower, and watched as her muscles grew tense.
He took her in his mouth, as his tongue toyed her into oblivion. She weakly writhed beneath him as her breathing became ragged and shallow. From where he suckled between her legs, she weakly grabbed his silky hair and arched higher then before. Her toes curled, her nails dug in his shoulders, and her hips rose for him to take more.
As she gave urgent responses to the Dark Prince, the figures said “From here the Children will be released.”
Mithrail released her himself and rose above her like the lord that he was. Her skin was flushed and wet, and her chest heaved up and down in anticipation as her eyes met his. He knew her mind screamed, for he saw the battle in her eyes, but her body was thirsting for his. Her legs were spread wide for him, and her breasts were small yet swollen…tempting.
A smile came to his lips when she covered herself with her weak arms, and her legs sought to close herself from him. Taking her wrists in his hands and pushing aside her closing legs, he pulled her arms above her head, just as he laid his body upon hers.
His tongue plunged obsessively within her mouth as he released her arms and began to stroke her breasts. She moaned into his mouth when he began to knead her tense muscles below her hips and rubbed her thighs until they became welcoming.
She was liquid beneath him, moving to his every touch. She was soft, untouched, and pure. Open and ready for him, he moved but a little and swallowed her gasp of innocence. His manhood was hard, and her unused woman-hood was small. Lifting her hips, he opened her more to himself and slowly slid within her. The tightness of entering her made him give his first groan. As he drove past the barrier that declared her a virgin, he whispered dark promises in her ear. He promised her the pleasurable pain of mating, and promised her that she would cry for him, and give him all that he wanted.
Then, as the pain of her lost innocence ceased, he began to move slow and deliberately. With his teeth he scraped her neck in growing pleasure as he relished the act they were committing. Her nipples achingly hardened against his as she felt him grew rigid within her. Gripping his broad shoulders, she tightened her thighs around his hips in a delight she had never experienced before, and cried out his name.
His violet eyes stared at her face in satisfaction, as she closed her eyes and arched for him. Demanding her to say his name, he cupped the back of her knees and he pushed them higher and closer around himself. Her mouth opened and she began to moan and gasp his name as he moved faster.
At the speed of which he moved, his breathing changed. He was stiff and ready to release his seed, and his hips hit her faster and faster. The sound of his feverish mating echoed off the walls, and his grunts were easily met by her gasps and cries. Throwing her arms around his neck and arching, she wrapped her legs around him.
Driving deeper inside her, and the pleasure rising to its peak, he closed his glowing violet eyes and cried out as he bowed his head within the curtain of her hair, and bled his life within her.
From around them, the dark figures bowed to their mating prince and said reverently, “And so, the Children have been created.”

Days passed in where Mithrail entered her given bedroom and took her again and again. Her body ached from the assaults, and her throat had grown dry from her cries and protests. She lay within the curtained bed of hers with tears on her face. Her body was bruised and harshly used, and now she pained and wept in anguish.
In these days where her body had been “honored”, she had never seen her brother. The thought of him made her anguish turn to hatred. She sat up in her bed and tossed aside the curtains and gazed up into the dark figure that stood in her doorway. Orious stared at her with the eyes of fire and the face of torture.
Striding forward to where she sat in shock and fear, he smiled with something close to serenity. Without touching her, he used his unearthly abilities to make her lay back upon the bed, naked as she had been since the day of her capture. The bed groaned beneath his weight as he came for her with a smile of pleasure.
His presence made her weak. The fight within her had died the moment he walked towards her, and now she lay still. His eyes ceased her worrying and her fear washed away.
She knew he was using his abilities on her, and she struggled little. As he loomed above her, he watched her expression change from fear to hunger. She gasped with pleasure, though he did not touch her, and opened her legs with a groan of wanting.
Still, he did not move.
Rising to her knees, her hands grabbed at his cloths. When she touched flesh, she moaned and raised her lips to his. Taking his cloths off from his demonic body, she pulled him to lie upon the bed. Her hands possessively stroked his dark skin as she sighed at the sight of him.
Her flesh easily grew hot as she straddled him and raked her nails down his torso.
Cupping him within her hand, she felt him harden slowly. Where Mithrail was hard, Orious was also thick and longer. Just the throbbing touch of him made her moan and the dull ache between her legs intensified.
Knowing he hardened for her, she led him and arched when he entered. She grinded herself against him and closed her eyes to relish the feel of his hotness within her. He was a demon, and she an elf. Long limbed and pale as a lily, she was an opposite of the man she rode upon.
His skin was as night, and his eyes were a glow of golden fire. He moved little beneath her, instead he watched her with growing delight. As she began to move feverishly, he closed his eyes slightly. She was young and fresh, and the way she moved had him throbbing. He hardened more, and rose his hips when she grinded her hips forward. Drawing himself out of her when he lowered himself, he gripped her to himself when he rose again.
He gave out no release, though he had her climbing to a climax. In ecstasy, she cried his name and wept “Leave within my womb an heir! I wish—I wish to bare you a son, a son to who I will give my life!” Taking his hands, she made him cup her burning breasts and chanted, “Have my body, for I am yours! Take my body—I am yours! Take me—!” Her chanting broke with a gasped moan as she closed her eyes in elation.
With his thumbs he stroked her peaking nipples and kneaded her breasts. She was young, barely having reached her woman hood, and he was a man many called immortal. Rising to come face to face with her, he slowed her frantic movements and bent his head to take into his mouth her breasts. Arching her back so that he could take more, she moved slowly.
He groaned slightly when she tightened her hips around him and raked her nails down his back. Grasping his shoulders she pushed him down and began her more furious grindings that made him buck and groan. She dug her nails within his flesh and sobbed “Oh, my Master, take me—I beg you!”
From where he watched the area in where he entered her, he ran his gaze up to see her looking at him with tears of pleasure in her eyes. Amused, he began to chuckle in triumph.
“What am I?” His mind asked of hers.
The bed trembled violently by her feverish movements as her orgasm rose to its peak. Like a prayer, she told him what he wanted to hear, “You are my Master! My Master—!” she released a strangled moan and tossed her head back. Her hips grinded harder with bliss, wanting Orious to enter deeper and give her more pleasurable pain, “within me you give me honor, my Lord! Within me, you give me life!”
As he chuckled mockingly, she wept for him and took within her womb his seed.

She took him within her many times until she lay useless at his side. Wanting more, though unable to take, she looked up into his eyes. With little expression, he rose and shut the curtain that surrounded her bed. When she rose to see him, he had already left.
As his presence left the room, the spell he had caste upon her vanished and she began to weep at what had been done. However, she had little time to regret.
The curtain opened to admit Mithrail.
“My child thrives within your womb, and now you have taken within you my fathers as well…you know of your duty it seems. Now you bare within you the Children, and I am more the greater!”
“I hate you!” She screamed, wrapping her blanket around herself, “Get out of here! I hate you and the Darkness!”
Effortlessly, Mithrail slapped her.
“These Children will die in my womb, and I will see to that!”
Mithrail laughed openly, tossing his head back in mirth.
“If they do not die, I will see to it that they kill you and your bloody father!”
His laughter ceased, and like lightening, he hit her again. Grabbing her golden hair, he pulled her close and roared in her face like an animal “My seed and my fathers seed burn within you, and they will bloom! They will be demons, Alayana—and they will oblige to our will, for we are the Sovereigns of Darkness!”
Struggling in vain against his grip, Alayana closed her eyes in fear when Mithrail’s violet eyes spun to a threatening gold, “I am a demon, Alayana, and you are the bitch of a demon! You will bare the Children, Alayana; all of which will feed off your carcass after you die!”
“Curse you!” Alayana spat, “You will pay for this! My avengers sleep within my womb, and you will see! They will destroy you!”
In anger, Mithrail hit her, and relished in her pain.
Aldaine watched in the open doorway and pity was quickly drowning within him by the Darkness. Finally when Mithrail ceased and collapsed at his sister’s side, Aldaine moved towards her.
She was crying, and her tears made him colder. She was all swollen, bleeding and trembling. No longer was she the beauty of the elves, for she was broken and tattered. When she opened her eyes and gazed up at him, he placed a warm hand on her abdomen—the abdomen that now held the demonic offspring’s of Orious and Mithrail,
“Alayana, you are baring the children of the strongest people in this world. You have been given such honor, yet you shed from them” he saw the hatred in her eyes, and smiled, “You have called him your Master, Alayana; I heard you call for him! You begged him to leave his seed within you. He has now bonded you to himself for you carry his child, and you are now his slave until he needs you no more.” Alayana spat at him, making him red with honor. His gaze flew to Mithrail, who shook his head; forbidding him from hitting the mother of his heirs. Turning to gaze back at his sister, Aldaine said “You bare within you the keys of our success on world domination! Do you understand what that means?” She cursed him, and then he waved her away and mocked “Cease your fighting, for you are now a Fallen One.”
“No I am not!” She shrieked.
“You called Orious Master!—you are the mistress of Lord Mithrail! And you oblige to their wills like the wench you are!” The realization on her face gave him pleasure as he walked out of the room as Mithrail’s laughter shattered the silence behind him.


The Children were conceived, and were yet to be born. The Elven Nations came together then, not knowing that the feared prophecy was being made. In a set of battles that grew through the months to retrieve their princess, the Darkness was defeated.
Many searched their princess, but found her to no avail. Days away from her rescuers, Alayana stumbled within the winter with the centaur guardian Gordon. Though she knew her Elven kin sought to rescue her, she had become heavy with child. She had recognized that the Children were to be born any day, and escaped.
Her escape came at a cost, however. The mother of Mithrail, named Yanraida, aided her at the cost of her own life in the hands of her son. Gordon had been Yanraida’s own guardian, and was now pledge to the Elven Beauty. Now, as Alayana rode on the back of the black centaur Gordon; she felt pain and gazed up at the full moon in anguish.
Her escape was victorious, though the winter weakened her much.
Days after the Elven race was victorious against the Darkness, they found Alayana. She lay wrapped in fur in the snow, sheltered by trees and bushes. Even in death, her beauty glowed. Within her, they found no Child, and discovered that the Children were indeed born and out in the world.
The prophecy had begun, and the time of change was coming…