First of all, I want to personally thank those who decided to follow my story. And for those who are following my other story, Heart of a Joker, it's on hiatus for now, because as of right now, I have the worst writer's block known to man. But I was really excited to see that I already have 2 followers and 1 review, and it's only the prologue :D. you guys really made my day, thank you so much. Now, I'm finished with my mushy rant, now, on to chapter 1!

Disclaimer: (these things are just annoying) I don't own any characters – they all belong to Becca Fitzpatrick. The only character I own is Lyra. Now that it's all rubbed in, NOW let's get on with the story.

Chapter 1

(Scott's POV)

I stretched and reached out to my left, only to find the cool sheets. I smirked at the smell of sausage and pancakes wafting up the stairs from the kitchen and rolled my eyes. Of course she'd be up early. An annoying habit my wife has, staying up late, and waking up early. Man, I doubt even God's awake at this hour. I immediately stopped my thoughts, knowing that if she could hear them, she wouldn't be happy.

"Too late!" she called up the stairs.

I never forgot the day I met Lyra. I remember only a few things from those 3 years ago, but those few memories are as vivid as though they happened yesterday.

Nora Grey, was about to commence in a battle with Dante. And though she was strong – stronger- than anyone, herself included thought she was, she was no match for him. Nora believed in showing mercy, and giving second chances. Dante didn't. and I swore an oath to Harrison – Nora's dad – that I would protect her, and that's exactly what I did. I was able to die peacefully – if you can imagine that – knowing that I had fulfilled my vow. The next thing I remember, was that I felt like I was being pulled towards something, to this day I don't know what, but it was drawing me towards it. Then, out of nowhere, I hear this woman's voice. She was telling me that all would be well, and that it's over, I could rest. Then I realized, that I was dying. Dante's devil craft sword was finishing it's job, poisoning my body. I didn't know what to think. All this time, I dreaded the fact that nothing could do to myself could kill me. and now, now that I was dying, I didn't feel relief, or happiness, I felt nothing but straight, dead on fear. Next thing I know, this girl comes up next to me, and tells me to follow her voice. She can't help me, but all I needed to do was follow her voice, and that I'd be safe.

I did, and when I opened my eyes, I see this beautiful girl, supporting my head in her lap, her hand over my heart. I looked down to where her hand was, and found that the place where Dante had stabbed me was now a mere scar – one of many, sure- but a scar none the less. I got a good look at her then. She didn't seem like she belonged in Maine, and not just because of her tanned skin and dark hair. She looked….different. she smiled then, and told me that she was a gypsy, more or less. She read my thoughts. She healed a wound made by product of devil craft. I reached up behind her, and quickly felt a scar on one of her shoulders. This chick was a fallen angel.

"Yes, I am. I was an avenging angel actually – now don't struggle, you need your strength now more than ever." She said as she put her hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place while I struggled to find a weapon.

"Who are you? What do want?" I asked tiredly.

"I believe I'm the one who just saved your life, I suggest you be a little grateful. And if I actually wanted to kill you, trust me I wouldn't waste any time fixing you up. I fell because I wouldn't kill."

And to make a long story short, she told me her name, Lyra, which meant "righteous vengeance", and she wouldn't live up to her name in some war centuries ago, so she fell. Later on, she went with me to one of our band practices (had to carry on with life as usual after all), and since she was there, the guys asked if she could fill in for our lead singer. She did, and well, it'll sound cliché, but she had the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard. And she could really go with any genre, which was good, because we're heavy metal.

As time went on, we went from small, under- ground night clubs to actual stages, first starting in amateur gigs, and finally, our first big record album. The latest concert we were doing was a benefit for a women's shelter – Lyra was all about justice for the weak after all. Of course, we were already together by then, and about 3 months ago, we finally tied the knot. I know that most people who knew me couldn't ever imagine me getting married, but I did. I did, and I have never been, or ever will be – happier.

"Scott! You better get down here if you still want breakfast!" called Lyra.

"Coming!" I called as I stretched one last time. I heard one satisfying crack in my spine and got ready for the day ahead.

The second I got downstairs it started. We had to get ready for another photo shoot for a music video, our first one. And Lyra – who doesn't really need sleep – had to get everything ready for us while we got to pretty much lounge around and stay out of her way.

"Okay, so we need to get our costumes ready the location make sure we get there before it rains make sure your guys' instruments are tuned make sure that the equipment's all working make sure that I'm warmed up so my voice doesn't crack 'cause we all know how crappy it sounds when my voice cracks - "

My God, she could talk without taking a breath. Must be a woman thing, over working herself, getting her clothes and make-up on early, and just overall taking the responsibility for just about any and everything. I grabbed onto her and kissed her deeply, until she had to push me away to take a deep breath.

"Scott, what're you doing? We need - "

"I need some of your delicious homemade breakfast, and you need to take a deep breath, and relax. I already told the guys what needs to be done, so that you could get a little rest."

She looked up at me gratefully, placing her hands on my chest. Then all of a sudden she reached up, entwined her fingers behind my neck and pulled my head down, so that my forehead rested against hers, and I in turn wrapped my arms around her waist.

"Don't toy with my emotions." She said dangerously.

I couldn't help it, I laughed and straightened, kissing her forehead.

"I know better than that." I said.

And it was true. The last time I told her that the rest of the guys had booked a gig for us so that she could get some rest – it turned out that they booked us for a 10 o'clock when we were supposed to be booked for an 11 o'clock concert – let's just say that I was on the couch for a week. Not a very enjoyable time, and that's not just because there's an annoying broken spring in there. Lyra laughed and nodded to the delicious breakfast that was awaiting me. As I took a seat and started in on my pancakes I looked up to see my wife (man, 3 months and I still haven't gotten used to that) sipping a cup of coffee, and looking over the glossy flyer advertising our band.

"You know, for someone who doesn't need to eat or drink, you sure do love your coffee." I said, with my mouth full.

"Eating is a necessity. Coffee, it's, a commodity." She replied with an over exaggerated flourish.

I rolled my eyes as I got up and put my dishes in the sink. I looked over at the clock, and saw that we only had about 30 minutes until we had to meet the rest of the band for our photo shoot.

"Go, go. I'll take care of the rest." Said Lyra – reading my mind again – as she pushed me half way up the stairs.

"Hey, just because you got ready first - " I stopped talking as I realized that making remarks like that would only get me in more trouble than necessary.

Just as I was heading upstairs there was a knock at the door. I looked over at Lyra who nodded, which meant that she would take care of it. I was at the entrance of our room when she opened the door, but there was only silence afterwards. Then I heard it.

"Scott, you should come down here."

Though her voice was calm, it was the kind of calm that indicated something wrong. I'm sure you married guys know what I'm talking about. I headed down the stairs, and came up behind my wife. A man and woman stood on the other side of our door. The woman had brownish red hair, gray eyes, and bar stool legs. The man was about 6'1, dark hair that went into his eyes a bit, and a hard set jaw. The woman spoke first.

"Scott."

I eyed her up and down, making sure that she was who I said she was, before I answered her.

"Grey."

Ooooh snapple juice! Ahahahahah, yes, I leave you with a cliffie! I know that some parts of Scott's dialogue are a bit OC, and Dante's sword wasn't devil craft…or was it? Truth is I don't remember, so yea. Ermm… I hope you guys like it, leave reviews please, and if you really really want to, follow me on twitter Reecie_John…cuz I need more followers… really I do. So any way! I hope you liked it. Bye!

~ SunriseDestined