The archangel hadn't moved for hours. He stared through the break in the clouds at the base of his throne. The verdant grasslands stared back at him along with the one thing that kept him from his conquest.

The spear of Amadeus jutted from the earth, reflecting the sun off of its golden luster, tainted only by the thick overgrowth from years of remaining stagnant. Uriel huffed and grew hot beneath Ezra's gauntlet, mirroring the angel's mood. The saint's weapon mocked them both. The only thing in that pitiful realm that could rival their power.

Dragons ruled the sky's over the spear, Ezra's personal brood. Their scales were dark grey, a few more millenia and they'd grow even darker, the sign of a mature dragon, of a powerful dragon. That damned sect considered themselves powerful but they hadn't scratched the surface of heaven's might, not yet.

Ezra clenched his fist, Uriel's scales burned hot beneath his hand. He had no choice but to use his most powerful dragons to contain the might of that spear. He'd underestimated this world, a mistake he wouldn't make again.

"Sire." Someone said, Ezra shifted his gaze, instead peering out across the vastness of the throne room. A lone angel knelt beyond the break in the clouds. His gaze down, one hand on the hilt of his weapon, the other laid across his knee.

Alabaster pillars jutted from the clouds and vanished into more of the same, as if holding up the sky. There were dragons coiled around each one, all of which were born of his own core.

"Raise your head and speak."

The messenger looked up, his eyes flashed toward Uriel then around the room toward the pillars nearest him that had dragons resting on them. There was fear there, in the slight gap between his lips and the widening of his eyes. A seraphim had nothing to fear from a dragon, save those in his throne room. Amadeus truly left his world with a boon when he fell, none who shared Ezra's power could enter earth's realm. A problem he'd solve sooner or later.

"The vampire den, we have located it."

Ezra grinned and Uriel growled.

"Good, prepare the seraphim, any within one hundred miles, tell them I need the prince alive."

Perhaps the answer to his problem had presented itself sooner rather than later. He would finally obtain the nexus flame.

****

Rothariel stared at the cracked stone walls of old man Dara's cell through rusted iron bars. With the power that emanated from the old man's body, the bars were little more than twigs. That same power required a fusion of body and mind to be wielded, the latter of which was completely shattered.

"My child, please, I'm hungry."

Rothriel growled low and blocked out the old man's chattering. That bastard was hungry? He was fucking starved. Living in a pit watching a cripple. Drakar told him this was an important post, one that would gain his favor but all he did was listen to incessant nagging and crying from a man so broken he didn't remember his own name.

The vampire covered his ears and bit his lip. He tried to focus on the pain in place of the hunger pangs. The urges were the worst, he wanted to devour the prisoner, to rip apart his cage and sink his teeth in the man's neck.

He knew what would happen if he did. The old man's sickness was incurable. The flame frenzy. When someone survived the Nexus Flame. The burning never ceased but somehow old man Dara had compartmentalized it in his mind. Locked away the endless burning inside a deeper part of his consciousness. It was a feat only possible by someone powerful enough to survive the flame in the first place, he couldn't imagine the cripple at full strength.

Unfortunately, that pain tried every day to break free of its prison, fracturing the man's mind as it did so. Eventually he wouldn't be able to keep it bound any longer and he'd once again feel the ceaseless pain of the Nexus. Rothariel wondered why the man hadn't just killed himself, he'd even considered inflicting the mercy, at least he'd rid himself of guard duty.

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Rothariel glanced over, still covering his ears, and his heart leapt. Dara had his face shoved against the cage, his lips moving rapidly. Dara's eyes were wide, his knuckles white around the rusty bars. It peaked the vampires curiosity and he uncovered his ears.

"Son…" He looked around, his head darting to all four solid stone walls. "Son… They're coming."

"No one will come here, only Lord Drakar knows of it. Someone may wonder by but the entrance is well hidden."

Dara reached a hand through the bars and shoved his face harder against them.

"No." Decrepit old fingers opened and closed reaching for Rothariel. "You must get us out of here before they arrive. Please my son, I can't save you from within this cage." He said it as if he were talking about something other than the prison he resided in. It was the most lucid sentence the old man had said since he'd been guarding him for the past decade. As if he were aware he was trapped in his own mind.

Rothariel's stomach churned. He watched Dara who pleaded with his eyes. "Me." He started saying. "Me, me, me, me. The-they are coming for-" An explosion cut him off, his eyes shot to the dust falling around them. Dara fell backward and made a noise somewhere between a child's squeal of terror and utter and absolute pain that he choked down at the last moment.

"Rothariel." The old man said. The vampire's eyes snapped to the old man. "Rothariel-" Dara paused before the next word, his face screwed up in pain. "Listen to me." The old man fell to one knee, tears streaming from his eyes. "I'm not flame frenzied." Rothariel watched, mouth ajar as his long time prisoner was completely lucid for the first time.

"Drakar put the nexus flame inside me. It takes most of my power as well as my mental capacity to keep the torment at bay-" The room shook again. Dara screamed, both hands clutched his head. "I'm letting up just enough to speak to you now, which forces me to endure the pain, so listen, I don't have long."

Rothariel didn't move, didn't speak. His mind wouldn't function right. Dara continued, occasionally grunting in pain.

"The archangel has found us." He stopped, gathered himself, choking down what looked like unimaginable pain, then continued more frantically this time. "Don't let the seraphim capture me. If they've found Drakar he won't be able to get to us so it's up to you. I can manage this twice more once I'm recovered, I'll explain the rest next time we speak."

The room rocked, pulling Rothariels attention to the door above him, it wasn't the only exit, he would have to take the tunnels. He wondered for a moment if this were all some way for Dara to get him to open the cell. He turned to question the old man but the blank look had returned.

"Son please quiet down, I'm trying to rest." He seemed even more dull than before. Perhaps he had to recover. He seemed completely oblivious to the chaos going on above.

Rothariels sensed a power that couldn't be any less than a dominion. It sent a bolt of shock through him. They wouldn't be able to sense him inside the prison but it still got him off his feet. He opened the cage and grabbed the old man, throwing him over his shoulder. He walked across the tiny room, kicked aside a dirty rug and pulled open the trap door beneath. He looked back at the place that had practically been his prison as well for ten years then leapt into darkness.

****

Drakar was impressed. As a human the boy fought well. Fast, precise and deadly. As a vampire he fought like a demon. Blue flames burned hot on his infant claws as he raked them across the scales of a dragon. Drakar had already finished the seraphim, his new blood was not yet ready for that. He watched as Rowan tore through the golden lizards. He used his sword occasionally but seemed to favor the claws, as Drakar knew he would.

Rowan danced between two dragon before lopping off one's head with his blade and shooting a gout of blue fire into the open mouth of the other. The one fell to the ground, lifeless and the other screamed with the rage of heaven. Rowan sheathed his weapon. He grabbed the creature by sinking his claws into its nape and slammed its head into the ground. A moment later he feasted on the golden ichor of the heavens.

Drakar had to physically tear the Newbold from his meal. They hadn't the time to waste. It only took a few minutes to arrive at the hidden prison where he kept the old man. He inspected the door which still had overgrowth on it. So they hadn't found him yet. Good. Drakar pulled open the door which groaned in protest. He ignored the ladder on his way down. What he found was an empty room. It seemed they escaped through the tunnels. Rothariel, the fucking coward. It only made sense, the youngling wasn't yet powerful enough to face the seraphim but he was the only one Drakar could trust.

He climbed back out of the prison. They'd be long gone by now but he knew where to find them.

Drakar perked up. His senses were on edge. Rowan hissed, even he could sense so much power, even from this distance. Dozens of seraphim, hundreds of dragons.

"Fuck."

That bastard archangel had found the den. He didn't have time to be picky, he'd need the full might of the den to even stand a chance. If he was lucky the archangel would underestimate them again. He couldn't truly know what power the badlands held. A year ago it would have fallen to such a force easily but since Drakar had taken power things had changed.