The large underground room was as dank and gloomy as many underground spaces. The whole place gave off a distinct aura of foreboding, from the large candle lit chandelier, to the shadows that danced and darted across the rough and moss coated stone walls. In the center of the room however was the most disturbing feature of this dank cellar; where most simply served as places to store unwanted items, this cellar has been turned into some sort of sick recreation of an abattoir. Blood soaked the outer reaches of the stone floor along with the remains of ponies that had been pushed aside and left to rot in their own blood. In the center of the room was a large symbol carved into the floor, filled with the blood of those ponies that had been slaughtered for this sick purpose. But even now the few living ponies still stood in this slaughterhouse, the blood lapping at their fetlocks the still warm substance swirled and sloshed around their hooves as though possessed by the ancient evils they hoped to unleash through these sick acts.

Most prominent amongst the hooded figures was one who stood near the center, she was not wearing a hooded cloak like the others but she wore a fanatical expression upon her face, as intimidating as any mask could possibly be. She had a coat of deepest blue that even in the low light from the candles still managed to shine as if it where broad daylight. Although she wore a manic expression on her face she could have been considered attractive by many. With slender, well toned legs and a thin and trim body that sloped and curved gracefully into her hindquarters, which were as soft and as supple as any mare before sloping down once more into her hind legs which were as well sculpted as her forelegs. Even though her face was now locked in a fanatic stupor her soft feature could have presented a kind unicorn whose horn rose gracefully from her silver mane, which flowed down her neck like a lake of purest silver.

The dark ritual they had worked for so long to enact was almost finished, only a little more blood was required for the ritual to summon their deity to this plane to be a success, And so Skyfall's hungry expression turned from the blood stained symbols as she called out in a crisp sharp commanding voice,

"Damn it, Deccrutio, we are so close, Where the hell are you?"

"C-coming honey!" a shrill voice called from outside the door which swung open to reveal a lanky stallion behind it, This stallion had a lank and grimy coat, a sickening pale yellow that clashed with his pale frayed mane that hung around his muzzle like old curtains, his body was nothing like his wife's, where as her figure was trim and sculpted his own was one of much neglect, he showed signs of heavy wounds upon his flank and underside and he has the gaunt expression of a pony who had barley eaten anything for a long time, and even now his spindly legs looked as if they could snap like a twig underhoof. But his face showed the worst of the damage, he had various scars and cuts all over his face, some old and some still oozing his blood that stained his lank coat, his cheeks were gaunt and his eyes sunken and hollow and devoid of any joy and happiness. And even though he was a relatively young stallion he looked old and weak. Deccrutio tries to stammer out an apology, "Erm…sorry Skyfall… I was just-"

"Yes, yes. Do you have the blood?" she says impatiently. Her husband looks panicked, "I…uh.."

Skyfall growls and pushes him back into the hallway, yelling, "Go get it then, you blithering idiot!"

He sniffles and obediently walks off to down the hallway, turning and entering a side door. He enters the dark, dusty storage room grumbling to himself, angry at himself and at nopony in particular. "Where is that stupid colt…" He pauses and yells out, "COLT!"

A small dark green colt runs out from behind some clutter, almost tripping over his own hooves along the way. He looked starved ad malnourished, his small frame having little to no muscle definition. His gray mane and tail all disheveled and scraggly, the colt looked like a common beggar, except for one thing. His half-formed wings laid broken and useless on his back, the bones formed at odd angles and the feathers laid out in a haphazard pattern.

He stutters a barely audible reply, "Y…yes sir..?"

Deccrutio snarls and smacks the colt in the muzzle, knocking him to the ground. "The day has come, runt. Today you die for our lord."

The green colt lets out a silent sob, his tears having been shed during the countless tortures and experiments. He lowers his head, his fate having been decided since birth. "Oh…okay.." he uttered quietly. He was terrified of death, and what followed; according to his masters, he was going to Tartarus to face worse than he had under their ownership. He didn't want to die. He wanted to see some of the sights the other members of the group had talked about, the 'sun' that they curse so often, the 'stars' they chart and reference so often, and the 'Elements' that they fear.

He had dreamt of the Elements, how they would swoop in and defeat his captors, and save him from his torment. They would take him under their wing and train him to be an Element too, and he'll save everyone. Everyone, except them.

They deserve to die.

Kitsun3 here, thanks for giving my first MLP fic a shot. I know this is short, actual chapters will be much longer.

Special thanks to Espresso, StencilOST, and Conzo for helping me and encouraging me to go through with this.

Don't skimp on the criticism, I can take it.

For those of you expecting an update for VHitBL, It's coming...EVENTUALLY~