Hello my lovely readers! Here I am, with a new fic I'll probably never finish. -_- (Remember, the more you review, the more inspiration I get to continue a story. Just a thought.)

So before we begin, I'd just like to give a huge thanks to Dordtchild, whose AMAZING Fall of Xephos comic gave me the idea for this fic. The prologue is in fact an adaptation of one of the storyboards she decided not to use. The link will be provided at the bottom of the prologue (looking at it now will ruin the prologue). :P

Disclaimer: I do not own any the yogscast, SoI, or anything in this story except for the actual plot (from chapter 1 onward) and my OC, who I don't have a name for yet... XD

Warning: Contains blood, gore, character death, and no small degree of darkness. If you are younger than 13, or easily traumatized, please stop reading.

Prologue:

He was bleeding. Rivulets of the red liquid gently flowed from his stomach, through his clutching fingers. They lingered on his knuckles for a moment, before tumbling to the dirt. And it was getting harder and harder to even keep the pressure on his wound.

Skylord_Lysander, known to most as the master of the Skyhold, was not in what you'd call 'a good way'. He could barely even support himself. On his knees, he had one hand on the ground, and the other clutching the deep cut in his stomach. Blood dripped from it steadily, as it did from his nose, mouth and other various cuts.

Israphel sure knew how to torture a man. Pain washed over Lysander, and he almost fell over. He had to warn the heroes. He'd already failed them once. The guilt was pressing down on him in waves. He couldn't believe, after all his noble talk, how easily Israphel had gotten what he needed. 'Notch damn it.'

The anger and shame- it was enough to give him strength. He moved his weight to one knee, placing his other foot firmly in the dirt. Lysander heaved a breath, and went for it. His legs strained, and for one brief second, he thought he'd make it to his feet. Then his vision blurred. Pain, far worse than before, grabbed him in its pincer-like grip, and he collapsed to his knees again with a gasp.

It was pointless. He was a worthless, useless, excuse for a Skylord. He'd just have to face failing Honeydew and Xephos for the second time. Except...

With the hand that wasn't clutching his wound, he reached into his pocket. A soft, creamy surface touched his fingertips, and he brought it out. It was a scrap of paper; actually, it was Honeydew's old honorary Skylord pass. He'd salvaged it for memory's sake after the Sand Wars had been won. It'd do just fine now. He removed the hand from his stomach, and using his own blood, began to write feverishly.

There was a loud crunch behind him, the sound of a foot carelessly stepping on gravel. Lysander brought his scrap of paper right under him, and half-buried it in the dirt. 'Please find it, heroes, please.'

There was another crunch of gravel, and Lysander began his struggle to turn around.
"Well, lookie what I have here,"a voice, like Russian silk, purred.

Lysander froze in horror. It couldn't be. He'd seen the corpse. But as he managed to turn fully, he saw the shining black boots and clean white pants. 'No, no no nonononono.' Lysander couldn't bring himself to look higher.

"Seems you had a nice talk," the man murmured gleefully, "with master Israphel."

And as the man, if you could even call him that, moved ever closer to Lysander, the Skylord felt a tremor of terror run through him. 'Anything but this...' He tried once more to struggle to his feet, a new burst of adrenalin pounding through his bloodstream. He would have made it, but he didn't. The man was behind him in an instant, grabbing the back of his shirt and hoisting him up. Lysander gasped as the man's strong pulling on his shirt half-strangled him. He was pulled just a little higher, so that he was between a crouch and a standing position.

The man's voice was frighteningly soothing, "It takes a little getting used to." His voice took on a gleeful tone, "But I know you will like calling him master."

At those words, panic tore through Lysander. He struggled to get free, but the man was far too strong, and his grip from behind was far too easy to maintain. Slowly, Lysander's efforts weakened. The man felt it, and brought Lysander closer to him, as he might have reeled in a fish. Lysander's breath came in short pants now. He'd lost so much blood, and despite the adrenaline, sleepiness was beginning to overtake him. It was so tempting to just fall into the black... He mentally shook himself, and even though he could hardly move, his eyes burned bright. He wouldn't give up. Not again.

The man was almost gentle now. "All you need is some discipline, some obedience and some..." The man paused, "bleeding."
He tilted Lysander's head so that the Skylord could see the man's face. And it only confirmed his worst fears. The face's pale white skin showed a few grazes and cuts. Jet black hair, streaked with white, was kept neat by a pair of Skylord goggles. Pointed ears mirrored his hair style. His coal black eyes met Lysander's for a moment, and they were filled with an indescribable pleasure. And above all else, his pointy-toothed grin, emphasized by his goatee, told Lysander all he needed to know.

It was Skylord_Vitali. Back from the dead to get his sweet, sweet justice. Vitali's smile widened. "It'll be nice to work with you again, Lysander. You always were a likable man." Lysander tried to speak, but all that came out was a gargle of blood. Vitali gently moved Lysander's head. Despite a small struggle from Lysander, he easily kept it in place. Lysander was forced to face away from Vitali, although his body remained in the same position. Lysander knew that his neck was completely exposed to the vampire. 'Surely the heroes will come for me...They always did show up at the very last possible moment.'

"Shhhhh, it's okay, Lysander," Vitali murmured, his calm voice washing over the wounded Skylord. He leaned in and Lysander smelt his scent, a scent only describable as cold death. Lysander made one last effort, which was easily stilled by Vitali. He was inches away. Cold breath tickled Lysander's neck and then...A prick of teeth. It lasted only for a few moments. The bite was so little, painless, and a soothing coldness spread out from it. 'Fight it, damn you, fight it! Whatever happens don't...let...the ...evil...'

Vitali watched gleefully as Lysander's eyelids fluttered closed. "You'll know how to find us." He dropped the unconscious Skylord back into the dirt, and strode away.

Arashi: Yaaaaay! Why are the darkest parts always the most fun to write?! :D

Lysander: What in Notch's name are you doing to me?

Arashi: Everything, Lysander. Everything. :3

Lysander: Urgh, that's all you'll tell me, and you still are going to make me say a link...

Arashi: ...Say it now or you'll get paired with Jasper..

Lysander: Here's that lovely link to Dordtchild's storyboard of Vitali biting me:

Hang on...The link isn't working...Just google this, okay?

Google: skylord lysander vitali concept board dordtchild

Arashi: Good, Lysander. Okay, well anyhoo, I am planning to kill off a character or two. Please leave a review with your thoughts on this prologue and who you'd like or not like to be killed off! Remember, reviews inspire me! :P