Prologue to Underworld: By Lunar Light, My Eternal Guardian

Author's Note. Hello everyone and welcome to my first Underworld fiction. I am co-writting this with my sister and we are actually throwing in a couple characters and story plots that we ourselves are writing and trying to get published. I just one day came up with the crazy idea to try to mix it into the Underworld environment and she agreed so here I am giving you all something different =)

So, a little story overview I think may be a good idea, but I dont want to give too much away and some of it will be explained actually in the next chapter so what I will tell you is . . . the Line of Corvinus isn't the only Immortal strand in the world.

*I'm grinning evilly here in case you couldn't guess =)*

Disclaimer. I do not own nor do I think I own the characters or story of Underworld. The additional characters however belong to my sister and myself as does the this Fanfiction.

O.O Enjoy! .

By Lunar Light, My Eternal Guardian

Can you hear it . . ..

Can you see it . . ..

Can you feel it . . ..

. . ..Do You Taste It?

"So many." Pebbles crunched softly beneath her weightlessness. "We've not seen a fight of this magnitude for some time." With a deep inhale, she crouched, "is there any way to determine which side won?" Eyes; dark, void-less, emotionless peered over the fallen body of what had once been a loyal dedicated soldier. Her head inclined slowly to the side as she reached out, pushing against chilly lips, unveiling the fangs hidden inside.

"No."

With a heavy exhale she drew her arm back, resting it against her knee before lifting her gaze.

"Neither side ever wins. There is no victor. The losses, the lives that fade . . . it is a cycle with no end."

The voices, all around, crying, whispering, hissing; numbs and pushes my despair further. I turn, slow, my hood shifting slightly as I look to my best friend. Her dark eyes are alight with wonder, thoughts pushing her to regions I can never venture. She is beyond me, her strength, her senses. They'd call her monster, but she is my angel, my Eternal Guardian.

With a bob of her head she's straightening, long muscle infused legs rippling with the simple motion. "Shall we go?"

I bow my head, crystallized gaze shimmering in the dark.

Her lips press together then out. She nods, glances off into the dark. The blood is thick in the air; I know its taunting her, enticing her wrath. But we have to check them all. I turn, eyes falling to the disheveled earth before stepping forward.

"There are several meat piles over here."

I inhale; the lingering fear is thick and suffocating. It makes my lip curl in distaste. My feet move automatically, finding their way through this chaos' end as if I'd witnessed it firsthand.

"What do you think went down?" She stands over one of her brethren, so different, so alien, but then so similar. I turn as she bends down, moving the canine face, pointing it toward the heavens hidden miles overhead. Her fingers fluff through bloodstained fur, in the dark it's impossible to tell whether it'd been black or brown. "This was obviously a den."

I peer toward the cement ceiling, cracked and aged, ruined by water and time itself. "Perhaps." I glance at her as she stands, gaze shifting toward me. "Perhaps it could have been . . . once. Now it's just another tomb."

She peers once more toward the beast, eyes wandering across it's mutilated body. "Do you sense any life?"

I exhale; it's a heavy breath crawling down my chest. I glance out across the 'den' or sewer; the tomb. Along the thick stone columns, the piles of debris created from collapsed ceilings, the tiny pools of water rippling softly around the fallen.

"It's cold . . ." I move forward, step into a pool. It's dark surface ripples slowly, bloody rings fading, running clear as I cross to the opposite side. There is a body, partially submerged, possibly the biggest I've ever seen; and he is not turned. I pause, eyes shifting quickly, vibrating; my fingers quiver, tremble before twitching and draw into a fist. My lips creep apart, my breath is stalled. I bound forward, drop my feet heavily into the water, spraying it out in a variety of mesmerizing shapes. I reach the disheveled rock and move quickly to his side. My hand extends for his arm, fingers ready to brush against dark skin.

I freeze as she's suddenly at my side, looming over me, her hand curled securely, tensely, around the clawed hand that had whipped toward my throat. I turn slowly; peer along her face, each muscle is tense and curled, ready to snap. Her eyes are like starlight.

My head bows, but my eyes remain locked with hers. "Life is short in him, he's no threat."

Her brows twitch, crease a fraction, but rather than rip his arm clear of its socket she just adjusts her grip and peers down. I inch closer, slip my hand from arm to shoulder and then on to his throat. Tremors are passing down his skin; his breath seems nonexistent.

"It's rare we come across one still breathing." She stands there as if she's bored.

My eyes are pinned to the wound in his back. It's a brazen and cruel infliction; his skin is mangled and if not for my sight, the burn that had bubbled along the edge of the cut would have been unnoticed. I rest my hand upon the wound, let my breath loose. My eyes seal, head bows.

". . .was put down like an animal . . ."

Her hiss has my brows draw in tight.

"Pitiful . . ."

I draw back, eyes seeking hers. "He clings to life." Her trademark brow rises high as she lets a curl into her lips, a scoff under her breath. "He fights, for something he cannot let go." I tug my sleeve back, draw my glove off. "I'd very much like to know what it is."

She catches my wrist as I reach for him. "What're you doing?"

I peer at her. "To seek what he seeks."

Her eyes narrow, there was a flash of that brilliant pale glimmer of moonlight washing through her dark eyes; then as quickly, it vanished. "Not you."

My mouth snaps open, ready to protest, but her grip squeezes me into silence.

"Not You." She repeats, a growl curling its way up her throat.

Her eyes are alive with fire and I know not to push, I know not to question, to challenge her when she's in defensive mode. I nod curtly instead, sit back as she tugs her sleeve clear and watch as she flicks her wrist. I watch as small beads bubble to the surface of the cut. It has always intrigued and fascinated me; each and every marvel, every wonder that she is, a pure contradiction to everything the world thinks they know. Her blood, pale and luminescently blue, slowly starts slipping over the side of her wrist before she leans over past me. I watch her hand close firmly over the man's chin, working his jaw open and then flipping her wrist over, we wait patiently for the blood to dribble leisurely into his mouth. I draw my lip between my teeth, running it slowly, soothingly, back and forth and then over again, while anxiously waiting for what we both know will occur.

"Don't hope for much." She sighs. "Even my blood may not mean much if his determination and resolve are nothing."

I slip my fingers into my hood, combing back some loose strips of hair beginning to break away. "I sense great strength in him. There is something there; hidden so far inside his soul . . . even on the brink of death I could feel it. It is something like what I feel when you—change." I turn my pale eyes to see her look at me, eyes confused yet curious. "I feel his fight for life is so he can protect someone. He is not ready to give in."

Her eyes shift, side to side, analyzing my expression, considering my resolve carefully. "You think he'll be hospitable enough to just tell us?"

My breath is exasperated and I simply stare at her. "You know well I need no one to tell me anything." I inhale and brighten excitedly as a groan slips from his lips. "Is he waking?"

Her dark eyes turn toward him as he shifts, her gaze meeting his as similarly dark orbs open groggily then snap wide in alarm. I jump as he's suddenly rearing toward us, morphing fast, face cracking and sharpening before my eyes. A roar is cutting through his throat menacingly when I see her fist fly out, lightning quick, nailing him square in his cheek, knocking him out, rendering him instantly unconscious. I watch, awestruck, speechless, as he collapses back to the ground.

"Well. Seems my blood worked." A flicker of a smirk passes over her lips as she sits back.

All I can do is stare at her. I know she feels the weight of it; she's trying very hard not to look toward me, to meet my gaze. "It's a good thing he's not dying or anything!"

Her shoulders slump, lip pops out a slight degree as she leisurely turns her head my direction. Like a puppy; a scolded or begging puppy is what she resembles when she pouts.

"I didn't hit him that hard. He was out of it and it's just an assumption, but I'm pretty sure he would've killed us—"

"You knocked him out . . . was that necessary?"

"Like you said, you don't need him to tell you anything." Her smirk rose mischievously back into place.

I exhale and shake my head slowly. "You are right. I don't." My smile comes unbidden; I cannot fight its appearance, not toward her.

"So?" She's resting back, getting comfortable.

With a glance of warning, I turn my gaze from her back to this man; to this lycan. "Try not to hit him anymore . . . I don't know if it will interrupt me."

Sourly, and with lips pressed out, the only sign which would be her defiance, she nods.

I draw in a deep breath, it is calm and steadying. A balance, a grounding of sorts that I will soon need as the ancient powers within me begin to awaken. My eyes flutter closed, my head angles back, face tipping toward the ceiling. I can see the dark skies miles above; envision the stars that would be clotted out by the city's poison, even through all the smog and vehicle fumes I can see their pure light. They twinkle; sparkle, even brighter for me, radiating their endless eternal magics for my use. With an exhale I extend my hands; petite fingers seeming even more willowy and thin as they slip across this man's enormous muscular arms.

I can see him, clearly, even behind the pale veil of my eyelids. There is new clarity, new enlightenment to this strange creature; he is more than some savage beast, some misunderstood soul. He is, "A Guardian." I breathe softly. My head bows from the ceiling. Beside me I feel her pulse quicken, her breath pause. Her interest is quite palpable and though I know she will not interrupt me to question, she wishes to know just as badly as I do who or what was tied to him.

My sight leaps forth, cutting through the haze of memory this man harbors. He is quite old; the ages of life he's experienced are ungrounded, it's a blur of blood and death. An ill-tempered hatred burns just behind his consciousness. However, it does not scald me, and I know for certain these furies he holds are not of his own misfortunes, but of the one he protects. Loyalty and empathy are intense halos encompassing me as I delve deeper. He is not easily giving up the identity of the one he protects; even in his subconscious he'll protect him, or her. I inhale as his fury suddenly hits me; every ounce of anger, every drop of pure unequal burning hatred bursts through his being. It is as I begin to catch glimpses of the battle that had taken place here, I understand why; completely.

My eyes ease open, slowly. The white void that had inhabited them gives way and I hoist my head. A breath pushes itself free, I can hardly feel it, don't recognize the action of it. A sound bubbles up from deep within the pit of my stomach; a moan, or a groan, I cannot say. My brows crease as I angle my head, tipping it within her direction. Her eyes are enormous, a black void devoid of any emotion or semblance of life. Each breath is shallower than the next. Her stillness is nerve-racking, so much more intimidating than one would likely recognize. She'd sensed his subconscious' strike me. I grasp her hand and squeeze firmly, encouragingly.

"It's come . . ."

Her brows fold in instantly, head shifts a degree to the left. "It?"

I peer at the man, the lycan. "I see an end, one likely possible end. It is not so far from what was faced here. But this will be a forever endless rain of blood. Things move unseen in the dark, hidden even from our eyes." I peer into her dark eyes, turn until I am facing her completely. "I see what he seeks."

She exhales, leans back, head rising. I watch the muscles grow tight throughout her throat, across her face. A growl rises from the pit of her stomach as she turns away. I can see her tongue brush along her teeth, hidden behind her rosy lips. I hear bones crack, skin rip. And then an exasperated breath blows out into the sewer.

"You saw . . . what did you see?"

A smile slips out across my lips, turning the corners of my mouth up as I glance toward the lycan resting beside us. "An ally."

Her head tips, dark eyes blink. "Ally . . . there is no such thing."

I take her hand and stare deeply into her dark eyes. "There is," I nod quickly, my smile growing broader, brighter. "He is here . . . right here, in these dark corridors." Her jaw tenses, I can hear the grind of her fangs as they slip free. "I tell you, we need this man."

"He is a lycan," she smacks the man beside us, his head wobbles weakly, "nothing more!"

My brows twitch, head lowers. "Not him."

Her throat rumbles with a growl and I watch her bow her head. "Among the dead?" She inhales deep as I nod. "No."

"D—"

"No!" She growls. "What you are thinking—no, I say no! You cannot. To tempt with such powers is tempting fate itself. Are you above it?"

My shoulders roll back, head rises. My eyes, pale, luminescent, flash white and she goes still, almost instantaneously calm. "You know I am beyond almost all of it. There is nothing I have not breached."

I can sense her thoughts, so troubled, so defiant. She desires nothing more than to fight me on this. But she knows where my path leads once started, and that it should never be disturbed.

"I swear if you—"

"I need you to accept this. I am lost for time; I cannot waste anymore. I need you to trust me . . . and you know you must."

The hairs on the back of her neck were standing erect. Her throat was constricted tightly, jaw tense and ready, itching to rip into something. She bowed her head, bobbing it slightly before falling still.

"Alright . . ."

I squeeze her hands, smile so intensely it ached. "Tend to him please," I nod to the man lying beside her before standing. "I will not be far." I promised before releasing my hold upon her to turn and trot along the wall stretched before us. I pause at the massive gaping hole where something had shattered through; by the residing memories in this tomb, I know exactly what it had been.

"I am right here."

My pale eyes drift toward her. "And I here."

I turn slowly back to the hole, there is a breath, deep and choking, rising through me, filling my lungs entirely. It is my attempt to ground myself, to calm myself. A sort of anxiousness bubbles deep in the pit of my stomach, whether it be excitement or nervousness, that is what I cannot tell. I reach out nonetheless, thin fingers closing around the dismantled edge of the wall. I slip a leg through, my head leisurely follows. It is dark, but my sight adjusts within seconds. Dust flutters everywhere, there are cords or wires falling through the patches of ceiling that had concaved, their remains lying scattered across the floor in random intervals. I slip the rest of the way into the room as my eyes wander across the long cement walls, the thick beams of steel, the dozens of barrels standing erect or resting upon their empty sides. Far at the end is a thick steel door, partially open, an exit perhaps.

I blink and turn from it. My eyes roam instead along the barrels, searching along their ugly dingy yellow surfaces until I catch sight of him. I rush forward quickly then, knocking several of the barrels that rest between us over, pushing them clear to then pause before him. A pit forms in my stomach and my heart falls straight through it, shattering to oblivion as I turn my eyes over him. My lips part; a breath eases between as I step closer, removing the distance that lies between us and I kneel slowly to his side. My jaw tightens; the muscles throughout my face tensing as I glance slowly across his battered and utterly broken form. My heart constricts, my eyes water. His blood is everywhere that it should not. His tone; a complexion that should have been bright and warm was pale, lifeless. With a shaky breath, both painful and sad, I reach out, lifting strips of his long hair free of his face.

The hairs on the back of her neck had yet to fall. The edginess that had every inch of her so tense only seemed to amplify as the minutes seemed to tick so slowly by. The thin muscles and nerves throughout her hand suddenly twitched, forcing her to stretch and then curl it agitatedly. How desperately she wished to tear into something, to go primal and send something from this world with the time it took a heart to beat. She should've fought harder, insisted they leave the dead and dying to their fates; it wasn't their problem, these fools had chosen this destiny for themselves. Why must she always meddle!? She slumped back, plopping herself unceremoniously upon her butt and leaned back against the dark skinned lycan, jabbing an elbow into his muscular figure just for good measure. She was in the midst of exhaling irritably when something tickled her senses. Just a flutter; like a taunt, brushing right along the edge. It was a sensation that over the ages she had become quite familiar with, and yet, in its own way it was all together unknown. Remembering to breathe, she let her breath go, then quickly drew in another, albeit steadier, before letting her eyes slowly shift across the underground lair. The elements were shifting, she could almost see them pull from their routinely cages. Now they seemed to dance, singing merrily in the new freedom calling them out to assist. It was definitely a sight to behold, more so then in the past; here in this dark labyrinth they seemed ancient, as primal and savage as she was herself. But there was a beautiful purity to how raw they seemed; bending and shaping into whimsical streams. Each had their own shade, their own color which made them unique, on to their own. A smile had touched her lips, rising without her knowledge as she sat watching the summons. There was suddenly a musical chime, like a soft bell. It drew her gaze around to the dark bloodstained pool behind them. Slowly, a stream of beads began to rise before her out of the water, clear and glistening, clean and pure. Another exhale, a shake of her head, and she was watching the beads flutter leisurely, calmly toward her and then past, floating off in search of the one calling out for their assistance.

My fingers comb gently across his face, my knuckles are a light brush down a cold whiskered cheek. He has a nice face; attractive even. It hurts to see it like it is, forever frozen. My eyes drift shut, and I search for him, seek him through the other lycan's eyes, through his memories. It is where I know I will find him, where I will truly see him, how he was, what he was intended to be. And find him I do; I can see him—through the ages, through the centuries. I see what has been done to him. I see who he really is, not just then, but will be, soon. I sit straight, a smooth breath slipping over my lips as I let my fingers drift down his face, tracing his jaw-line and then down his throat. Blood smears at my fingers' caress, slips away, fades, almost like my touch washes away this stain. I breathe, slow, calm, steady; keeping pace with my concentration, with the focus needed to accomplish the unimaginable.

But then, that is all she and I have ever done. Since the dawning of time, the separation of darkness, we have altered every belief of man.

I open my eyes; center all thought upon his face, on that expression of suffering. It twists my heart, crushes it. My eyes begin to glow in the darkness, like that shimmering sparkle the sun creates when it's light touches snow. Within their clear depths he is captivated there, a warrior born of legend, to rise once more from the ashes, to stand above all . . . man and beast alike. I blink as water strikes my cheek, draw in a deep grateful breath as its cool pure touch washes over me. Slowly more begin to rain around us, I exhale into their midst. I feel so liberated, so relaxed. Leisurely I hoist my gaze to the hundreds of shimmering, glistening beads of water hovering all around us, covering every corner of this room. I extend my hand, open my palm to their endless, eternal, raining dance and catch a few. They glisten like crystal across my skin, like star dust, ever living, never dying. I watch the sparkle a moment, before dropping my gaze upon him. The rain continues to fall upon us, washing itself across us and purify whatever stains and poisons this world will drag you down by. I pull it within myself; my gaze, my breath, within the steady flow of my life. It is where I find my center, my balance. I lean closer, draw in a deep breath and rest my hand to his cheek, his heart. Instantly, I connect. A burst of energy flashes and a force—a vacuum-like gust rushes out to every corner of this underworld. My lip quivers, I can feel the turmoil, the death fighting me so intensely. It is thick and malevolent. But I am determined, I am resolute. I send the water across him in streams, commanding it down into his wounds, using its pure influence to my advantage. My brows crease, eyes narrow; my fingers curl against his chest as I anxiously wait for a sign; preferably a good one. I exhale sharply as blood suddenly spits from his wounds, then gasp out in delight and lean closer as I watch that ugly silver liquid finally begin to ooze across his pale skin, leisurely freeing him from death's clawed grasp. Faintly, his heart begins to beat.

She inhales deep, her nose twitching with the scent of blood and worse—silver. It scratches at her patience, taunting her resolve. With a bored yawn, she pushes out the cresses in her jacket, smoothes out the bunch that had formed against her elbow. She inspects her wrist once more, satisfied not even a trace of a scratch remains when the man beside her suddenly shifts, a groan easing through his chest. Her dark eyes flick toward him as a growl starts to rumble from deep within him. A warning, a possible threat. Brow rising, stray muscle in her cheek twitching, she stares down at the lycan rising slowly toward her before thrusting her fist forth, socking it square and precise in the jaw; knocking it unconscious. With a yawn she straightened the sleeve of her jacket down over her wrist as he fell heavily back to the ground. Glancing once around the sewer, she pressed her lips together in boredom, nodding slightly as if suddenly satisfied. The ghost of a smile crept into the corner of her lips.

To Be Continued in Chapter 2:

Author's Note. Well there you have it. So I know it wasn't probably the best as intro chapters go, but I think it was fair enough =)

Now next chapter will be the unraveling of the 2girls identities and Lucian awakening and the whole long explaining part that you're like ugh bored but know it has to happen.

So I hope it pleased you and intrigued enough for return visits, and above all else, REVIEWS! I'm a greedy little writer and I love reviews, so please make me happy so I can then turn around and make you happy with quick and speedy updates. Its a win/win situation anyway you look at it =) Hugs and Smooches my friends and until next time.

CelticAngel86 signing out.