Okay, so here is my newest story. This is a pilot chapter so reviews are what are going to keep it going. I suppose I should do all the warnings and disclaimers and all that nonsense. This story is SLASH. Meaning if the thought of two boys going at it like straight people on their wedding night makes you ill. And if you feel the need to flame over this, go ahead. A review is a review. Also, there are going to be some violence and rape warnings later on in the story. And I will offer some other warnings later because there are a few things I have been thinking of adding, but haven't decided yet. So lemme give you the rundown. In a world of dragons and phoenixes. In a world of demons and hybrids...there is a prophecy. A prophecy that has rung true for the past millennia. But up until now, things have been easy, as destruction normally is. But when the prophecy calls for the ultimate desecration of purity...can the leader of the most powerful army in all of the world handle such tasks? Or will he find himself hurting rather then hunting? Please read and review!

Accounts of Debauchery

The air was thick with the sour smell of perspiration...the cruel sun beat hard against the darkened skin of the men who stood idle on a blood drenched battlefield, golden feathers spilled across the dead grass, small fires just beginning to burn out as the smell of charred corpses mingled with the smell of sweat creating such an odor that even the strongest men in that Army found themselves ill to their own victory. The ground was sprayed with the deep crimson, milky thick blood of their enemies, limbs of the defeated strewn about like rag dolls, baking in the crisp summer weather.

The sky was a blood red and not from the low resting spot of the sun, but from the red bodies of the fire birds that circled overhead. Shrill shrieks coming from deep in their throats to alert the little mountainside town that they had indeed gained another victory. The men on the ground were cheering in their sickness, weapons raised in the air, dripping with the stagnant blood that had once pumped so powerfully and royally through the hearts of the ancient Wind Dragons...

And in the center of that massacre, stood a man...or rather a bird in a man suit...Black hair fell in front of his golden eyes, hair dipped in red dye, skin dark and tanned, each tribal tattoo that marked that skin with meanings of their own personal nature. In his hand, he held a sword, given to him by the prince he served so loyally, saturated in blood, he stood in front of the last remaining Wind Dragon.

His wings had been cut off and lost in the carnage and he laid dormant, but he looked up at that man with what little strength he had left and with eyes as old as the tides, he projected speech into the firebird's mind, the firebird long since familiar with the language of the dragons...

'We return to the sky...where all of this pain will disappear and we will live forever in peace...and you Commander...you will never sleep soundly again. You will hear this voice forever in your mind. You will never get the image of the end of a species out of your head...because no matter how hard you try, Commander...you will never be able to detach yourself from emotion...' And with that, Commander Diego Merrouge, head of the infamous and unstoppable Sangue Ardente Phoenix Army swung that blade of his and ended the life of the last remaining wind dragon. And five years later, the Phoenix still could not sleep.

Chapter One: The Meeting

He was laying, on his back, in the bed fit for a commander, a hero...a bed he loathed, hated for he could get his body to rest soundly no matter how hard he tried. Diego rolled over on his side, sighing...the sweet sound of a harp in the distance, in the far distance, he knew the place quiet well, actually...even though he had never visited it before. He knew it because it was legend...for beauty and strength. The creatures that lived in that place, they knew what it meant to live and love...to value every second of their long lives. Little did Diego know, as the Prince had his servant ring the bell high atop the Sangue Artende Bell Tower, that he would be visiting such a place so soon.

Diego rose from that bed of his, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was dressed down in a simple cotton ensemble, nothing too special. It was late in the night. When the bell was rung, he knew that it was time to go to the Prince's quarters. He and two others knew the meaning of the bell...everyone in the nation would continue to sleep soundly. He scratched his head, messy black hair falling in front of his eyes; he could never seem to get it tamed. The bell kept ringing and he rubbed his eyes once more.

"Alright Paris...I'm coming..." He said in a whisper, walking out of the room and into the chill night air. It was very odd for Sangue Ardente to be anything but smoldering hot. The moat of bubbling lava surrounding the castle constructed of charred brick and coal, some of the sides concave and supported by what looked like steel. The palace of Sangue Ardente was far from aesthetically beautiful from the outside, but as Diego walked through the hallways of the very palace, it was the archetype of the saying "never judge a book by its cover". The halls were lit by dim lamps, blood red carpets running down the brick floors, statues and painting hung in the walls, pictures of dragon slayers and such...oh, and the slayers always won, unless he was fighting against a fire dragon, of course. The fire dragons were gods in the world of Sangue Ardente. But only their memories...in the world as it was, there was only one remaining fire dragon. And when Diego pushed the doors open to the throne room, he stared right into the light blue eyes of that very dragon.

Paris was a beautiful creature as a dragon, but even more lovely as a human...with long black tresses, falling in front of his face like streams of midnight, the rest tied back with a crimson tie, braids and such accenting such night like locks...blue eyes an icy cold, the left shrouded behind a golden monocle, chain hanging down into the breast pocket of his royal outfit of crimson and black hues, his skin a dark tan. He had a marvelous smile, he did...and from the age he looked, no one could possibly believe that such a creature was centuries old and took a little city of ruins, making it into the most massive and powerful political force in the world, with the strongest army and strategical advisors that anyone had seen in millenniums...That was the man that sat before Diego right then. But for some reason, he didn't seem all that regal to Diego. And that was proven when the Phoenix said not a word to the Dragon Prince and went over to the cabinet to help himself to a shot of rum.

"Where are the others?" Diego murmured only after downing his shot, pouring himself another as he spoke, "Normally I am the last to arrive..." Paris shifted his weight in the chair.

"They aren't coming to this meeting, this has nothing to do with them," Diego walked over to his Prince and sat in one of the velvet sofas in front of him. The throne room would be breathtaking to someone who had never been there before. It was so big that one was unable to make out the pictures in the paintings across the room. The windows were made of stained glass and each told a piece of a story that nobody knew exactly. Maybe Paris knew, but rumour had it that he was not the designer of the castle. The windows were charred and although they had lost most of their colour, they kept all of their beauty. Beauty was something Paris was obsessed with...seeing through one hazy eye and one clear one, he could never see beauty for what it was completely. He wore that monocle in an attempt to gain back a little bit of vision, but it hardly helped. "This is strictly between you and I..."

"Oh..." Diego smirked, leaning back in the chair, "So what was so incredibly important to drag me out of bed so late in the evening...my lord."

"You ARE a touchy little thing, aren't you? Hm, I suppose even pigeons need their rest. Anyway, do you know what today is, Diego?" Paris said, the moon sinking behind the palace, making shadows dance around the room, "Today is the first day of the last year in this century and this is the last year in the millennia..." Diego nodded, "And, as it happened one thousand years ago today, a prophecy dropped into our laps. A prophecy delivered from the four dragon kings...and thus far, the prophecy has come true. It said that the sun would wilt the flowers and char the planes..."

"The Death of the Earth Dragons..." Diego said and Paris nodded.

"It also said the sun would strike all moisture from the sky and keep the air completely still...which I believe to be the death of the Wind Dragons." Diego nodded,

But up until now, we were completely perplexed by the last part of the prophecy." He cleared his throat, as if reciting something in a grade school play, "There will come a day, when the earth is coloured a midnight black and the air is as still as night, then the sun and the moons will cross. On this day, a single drop of water will gain a year and hold all of the secrets to the sun's everlasting splendor and it's ultimate destruction in it's chastity..." Paris looked over at Diego, "Take a look out the windows..."

Diego stood, walking over to the dimmed glass windows and his eyes widened as he saw something he never thought he would see in his lifetime. The three moons and the sun, all in a perfect line, all in sized order, the sun itself being completely blocked by the bulk of the moons. He turned and looked to his master who stood from his chair, hair spilling down his back.

"We have one year to complete this last part of the prophecy, Diego. Come the millennia, everything we have worked so hard for will come to and end if we cannot figure out who the chosen one is. And although I cannot come up with a fathomable idea as to who this person or creature could be...it said it was a drop of water, so the first place we will look is-"

"Cidade Da Areia."

There you have it, chapter one, hope you all enjoyed it. Please review and I'll see you in chapter two.