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This which is posted below is the prologue to my Legend of Dragoon fan-fiction that I have been working on for roughly 2 years now. This is the third draft of the profile, and there will be one final draft that I will write before I attempt to gain Sony's consent in order to have my story edited and published. Enjoy, and don't forget to comment!

Prologue

“My loyal minions!”, the dark lord’s voice echoed down from the high balcony of his black castle to his army that stood below. The earth on which they stood resembled an immense wound that had scabbed over. “Endiness is ours!”
The army broke out in cheer, but so dark was their armor that it seemed the soil beneath their feet had begun a protest against its neglection. A mere glance at this legion of darkness would cause any who looked upon it to believe that one had ventured down to the very bowels of Hell to recruit it.
There were monsters so hideous that there could be no doubt they were pure evil, and, though they were far fewer in numbers, creatures so fair and delicate that one could not grasp how dark their hearts had become in the search for power. The creatures gathered here quieted as the lord dressed in white robes raised his hand, demanding silence. “True,” he said, “we have taken Endiness, but with the knowledge of no one but Xexmus and the other generals, I sent my most gifted scouts at the war’s dawn, who have since scoured the continent until every foot of this land had been searched. They arrived at the palace gates before the first rays of light passed over the horizon, and they have passed to me their findings.
Not a whisper of breath was to be heard from the army as they anxiously waited, eager to know if their work had been well worth it. “At dawn’s first light, they bestowed upon me the stone of divinity, most powerful of the eight. It comes as no surprise that when it first sparkled in my hands, my powers were increased beyond comprehension!” At this, the army cheered with abandon. None were bereft of pride from their absolute victory… save for one, who bitterly fought for the courage to speak.
“M, milord?” His voice quivered slightly, but projected itself with authority over the thunderous din.
At the sound of the voice, the cheering stopped abruptly. The white ruler raised an eyebrow at the voice, but suffered him non-the-less. Stepping closer to the balcony, he looked below for the source of the voice. A human at the fore of a battalion stepped forward, pressed his fist to his breast and bowed. The armor which adorned him was more presentable than that of those he commanded. The warrior was clad in full, dark green, adamant armor. Curving symbols ran the lengths of his greaves and vambraces, while his helm bore the striking likeness of a dragon head. All that was to be seen of his face was visible through the sculpted dragon’s open maw. The lord tilted his head to the side, curious as to what would embolden any man to speak under such conditions.
“Thenian… Yes, what is it?” The general’s back went ridged at his recognition. It was plain to see that he was using every ounce of strength in his body not to tremble. Never-the-less, he stood tall and nodded his head. “My lord, I was promised one of the eight when they were found. You said that, seeing as I was a direct descendant of one of the stone’s masters, that I would likely be chosen, yet, when you were speaking, you said the scouts only found one.” He paused to lick his lips, considering if it would be wise to go on. “What of the others? Were they… not found?” Thenian shrank back subconsciously when an answer was not forthcoming. His heartbeat quickened when his master’s eyebrows melted together into an unpleased frown. He screwed his eyes shut when the lord’s mouth parted, surely to pass upon him some horrible judgment.
“Insightful as always, aren’t you?” Thenian gasped in shock and gazed skyward at the balcony. “Upon realizing what new abilities I possessed, I meditated in darkness, relying on the power of the stone. Reaching across the lands with my mind, no power resonated with my own. The others… are not to be found in this world.” Hoarse muttering spread through the ranks like wildfire in dense shrubbery.
Seeing this as an opportunity to escape the possibility of doing or saying something he would likely regret, Thenian retreated to the safety of his battalion. As he did, though, another stepped forward, this time armored in a gilded brass. He was a giant among men, standing nearly eight feet tall. To his own race however, he was of average height. Dull spikes adorned the shoulders, wrists and middle of the Giganto’s armor, his helm a simple dome of molded brass, though topped with curved demon horns.
Disgusted with his cowardice, he sneered at Thenian before projecting his rumbling voice to the balcony. “Lord Vathos, where then could they be? Is there any way of locating them?” Vathos turned a menacing eye on the speaker. Brave as the Giganto brave might have been, he shrank from the piercing stare. The monarch swept his gaze over the seven battalions spread below him. Before each of them stood a general bearing a different colored armor, but all bore the same, taut expression. Vathos smirked in grim amusement. He rather enjoyed witnessing the fear he instilled in his subjects. “Yes, there is a way, and I have already gone through the troubles of discovering where they lie, but unfortunately, they have not yet fully awoken, and I could not pinpoint their exact location. They lie in a world parallel to our own.” He paced across the balcony, gesturing to the unseen stars with his hand, only before clenching his fist and continuing in a harsher tone. “All haste that may be gotten must be set into motion now. The stones are slowing awakening, and should they choose masters, they will bestow upon those fools the power we desire. It will be more difficult to claim them if this were to happen, and for added motivation, I would not be pleased to hear such news. Now,” He reached into his robes and withdrew a dull-grey stone half the size of a grown man’s fist. Nothing adorned it save for a single, black slit, causing it to bear the resemblance of an eye. Holding it over the balcony for all to see, the stone shot forth rays of brilliant, pure light. “BEHOLD! This is the power of the Divine Dragon’s Spirit!” At his words, the winds rose, causing the dead trees of the forest to tremble and sway, groaning like a chorus of the damned. Behind the battalions, lightning struck, nearly sending the whole of the army fleeing in fear of destruction. From where the bolt of energy landed, a crackling blue void opened, swirling wider until a row of several large men could easily enter at a time.
“This portal I have just opened leads to the world containing the other spirits. No one knows of their existence, and what military force they may have is nothing compared to what powers we possess. From my foresight, I detected the primary location of the stones: a city, on the edge of a desert. There is but one armed facility of considerable size to protect it. We will crush them, and-”
As if from thin air, a flight of arrows shot from the forest, piercing the unwary soldiers with their deadly shafts. Cries of pain and surprise erupted throughout the massive army. One arrow flew high, directed at Vathos, who rose one hand; the arrow burst into flames and turned to dust. His face contorted in a blind rage. He slammed his fist upon the ebony rail of his balcony. “Fools! It’s the rebels! Find them! Kill them all!”
The rasp of swords sounded through the battalions, and archers strung their bows, preparing to launch a counter attack. It was now that the opposing force made itself known. A sum of what must have been no more than 200 men rushed from the trees, brandishing their weapons. Determination blazed in their eyes, the sort of fire that fills a warriors chest and makes him invincible, gives him the strength that he needs in order to succeed. This infantry stood no chance. Vathos’ archers launched their first volley into the band of the resistance, easily taking out the first line of defense. The second line met the battalions head on, hacking and slashing with their swords and axes. The archers struggled to notch their arrows before firing again. Pikemen warded off their attackers with rapid strikes and jabs with their halberds. In all the confusion, one of the rebels broke off from the main body unnoticed… or so he thought. Vathos, from his high vantage point, spotted the figure. He was about to dismiss the man from his mind before recognition shot through him like electricity. Who he now watched was the leader of the foul resistance, and what was worse, he was headed strait for the portal.
Vathos thrust a hand toward the rebel leader. “Archers! Take down that man! Now!!!” Hearing his voice, the man dashed even faster. His men were all but defeated, the last of them fighting bitterly against an inevitable death. It took the archers but a moment to spot him. Raising their bows, the loosed a swarm of arrows at him. He dove to the ground and hid behind his shield. Several of the arrows missed him entirely, some glanced off his shield, but one planted itself firmly in the calf of his leg. He cried out in agony as he forced himself up. A man with a raised sword rushed him, but his attack was parried by the rebel leader’s own sword, which he had barely drawn in time. Pushing away with all his strength, he threw the soldier off balance and beheaded him. Vathos thrusted his palm out toward the rebel, now only steps away from the vortex. The portal flashed, and a fireball shot toward the man who had forced himself to limp toward the portal. Seeing the flaming ball sailing towards him, he made one last titanic effort and threw himself inside, disappearing; the portal closed behind him. The magic fire exploded, leaving a small black crater in the spot where the leader had stood only a second before.
The white lord slammed his fists on the railing, his face twisted in fury and his eyes blazing. The metallic slicing of a sword could be heard as the last of the rebels was slain. The black armor cheered, pleased with their victory, but Vathos was far from willing to join them. He raised his fist to the sky and screamed, unleashing every ounce of frustration he held within him. Lightning lanced across the black, clouded sky. There was only one thing that he was certain of at this time: this wasn’t his fault, and when he decided whose it was, they could be sure that they weren’t going to live to see the dawn.