Demitri beckoned forth his seneschal to attend to him. After defeating an entire plethora of foes seeking to bring him low, the Lord of Vampires had finally triumphed.

The blood of over five hundred fighters burned through his veins. The heady rush of power that this brought was nearly intoxicating. Demitri found himself to possess the powers that he once had at the peak of his puissance. Before Pyron, before Jedah; no one in Makai dared to question the word of Demitri Maximoff. Only after the vicious battles with these two rivals had weakened him to the point of torpor did the Vampire Clans rebel against his authority to meander on their own paths. Yet now things will be different; once again his strong hand will be there to guide the Clans. Under his watchful eyes, Vampires will be able to achieve their destiny as the Lords of All Creation.

Demitri strode imperiously into the deepest recesses of his castle. When he fell into his slumber, his most faithful servants chose to enter the stasis of sleep eternal; only the voice of their Master could reawaken them to the land of the living.

Trailed by his seneschal, Demitri stopped before a bier made of pinewood. Inside was an enchanting lady of oriental descent. A glass dome encased her resting-place making her seem like a modern day Sleeping Beauty awaiting her Prince Charming. Quite an apt analogue really.

"Awaken my castellan," intoned Demitri.

A sultry voice purred in reply, "I come Master," as Kitsune Konishiko opened her eyes in the first time in centuries.

"Ishan, Warlord of my armies.........."

"Veldrane, Sheriff of my lands..........."

"Baldiric, Artificer of my castle......"

"Nordriel, Loremaster of my libraries......"

"Irini, Chaplain of my temples........"

"and Sengir, Marshal of my Legions......."

"...........Awaken, thine Master biddens."

With these commands, beings of ancient eldritch power cast off the sleep of centuries and strode the world once more. All over the world, psychics and mystics received visions of impending doom as even more creatures of the Dark struggled to wake and pledge allegiance to the greatest army of Darkness the world has seen since the demise of the Prime Evils.

Demitri heard the acknowledgement of his servitors. The sepulchral tones of Ishan, Veldrane's sardonic voice, Baldric's gruff burr, the pedantic tones of Irini, Nordriel's dry whispers and Sengir's powerful bass.

Maximoff Castle came alive as Demitri's court returned to the tasks they once fulfilled. Creatures of the Dark flocked to his banner and Demitri once more commanded an army mighty enough to shake the Earth. And yet, his mind was disquiet. Despite the return of his full strength, he still lacked the power to pierce the veils between the mortal world and Makai, the Demon Realms. It was only with much effort did Nordriel solve this puzzle. Someone had taken stolen the Signet Ring of the Maximoffs and used it in conjunction with some of Demitri's blood to fashion a talisman. Such a device would enable the bearer to siphon off a portion of Demitri's power and assume Demitri's shape.

Demitri dispatched Veldrane to hunt down this imposter and bring him forth for his justice. The undead woodsman took only a few nights to track down the mystic trails between the talisman and Demitri. Despite having a pale reflection of Demitri's might, the imposter was brought on his knees before the true Lord of Vampires by Ishan's prowess.

The imposter looked plaintively at the implacable visage on the throne. He knew that his actions could have lead to his Final Death at Demitri's talons but he had gambled that Demitri would remain in torpor for centuries yet. He had gambled and lost.

"Nordriel dispel the illusion that allows this pale imitation to wear my form, I would gaze upon the face of the man I am about to condemn," Demitri commanded.

"At once Master," Nordriel spoke in whispers akin to the rasp of the desert sands. Weaving a dweomer of his own, the imposter's form twisted and reshaped itself Duriel, his son.

Nordriel was livid at his son's revealed treachery. More so, he had taught the boy all of his magicks even though he had declined to serve the Master and this was how he repaid his father's magnanimity.

Nordriel felt the weight of Demitri's gaze bore itself into his mind as his Master searched for any duplicity in the mind of his Loremaster. All he found was guilt that it was the child of his loins who had offended his Master so and an anger born of betrayal.

Demitri nodded his head almost imperceptibly. "Hear my judgement Duriel, son of Nordriel. For your crimes against my person, the sentence is death. Yet your sire's faithful service has earned you leniency." The boy's face assumed an almost comical look of relief at this. A hint of a smile quirked at Demitri's lips, "your death will be quick and painless."

Before anyone could register the motion with the naked eye, Demitri had crossed the distance between himself and Duriel and sank his fangs deep into Duriel's throat. The doomed vampire had perhaps the time to blink once before his life force was extinguished. Nordriel gathered the lifeless body of his son in his arms, his face a whirlpool of emotions. "You may give your son a proper burial."

Nordriel prostrated himself before Demitri, "you are too kind Master."

Demitri took a moment to digest the power and memories he had taken from Duriel. The imposter had been wearing his shape for over two centuries now and had even the gall to fight his Queen, Morrigan, for her hand. Demitri shook his head in disgust; he had stooped to petty tricks to attain what he could not by might of arms. How far had Nordriel's childe fallen from the tree. Striding through his castle, he climbed down a staircase that seemed to spiral into infinity. His destination was a place that even angels feared to tread, the torture chamber of Maximoff Castle. His torturer, Andariel made obeisance to her Master and lead him to her only captive at this instant. Andariel was disappointed that Duriel was granted such a merciful end. She was so hoping to catch up on the skills that had languished neglected while she slept. No matter, knowing her master there would be much work for her soon enough.

A bucket of icy water roused Buffy Summers to full wakefulness. Her blurred vision resolved into what would forever be the face of fear for her. The one vampire none of her wits, wiles or brawn could defeat. Demitri's hand reached out to cup her cheek as he turned her head to and fro as if to etch every detail into his mind.

"There is no denying it, you bear his blood," Demitri said. "Be thankful mortal. Long ago one of your ancestors dueled with me. He was an honorable knight and offered that should he win, then I would remove myself from the world of Man forever. Should I prove triumphant however, he would serve me forevermore but his descendants then be exempt from my wrath. I won of course and my word binds me today. Be gone Buffy Summers and never cross my path again lest you wish to test my patience. Ishan, come."

The Death Knight materialised out of the shadows. "Yes Master?"

"Take your progeny back to wherever she hailed from. Know this Ishan, our pact may bind me but none of my servants are so bound."

"Of course Master," Ishan saluted Demitri once and then pulled the wide-eyed Buffy through a shadow.

In Makai:

The third of the Demon Realms ruled by vampires was often in a constant state of flux. Unlike the demons under Ozum or the shapeshifters headed by Morrigan's father, the Vampire Clans had no single strong leader. Instead, each Clan and each Elder maintained fiefdoms that survived through sheer dint of force at arms. If not for Ozum's sloth or the capriciousness inherent in shapeshifters, vampires would have been wiped off the face of Makai entirely.

Recently, disturbing rumors had been filtering in to the ears of the Elders. Many of their staunchest foes had fallen to some unknown power. Implacable demon hunters around the world had vanished without a trace. Rumors pointed to a single powerful vampire but many Elders scoffed at this. What vampire could have the might to defeat the massed demon hunters alone?

In the streets near the Senate where the eldest of the Clans convened for council, a lone vampire wandered the streets. Anatole was known as a prophet of doom among vampires and too often his prophecies were right. And yet today, his rhetoric was one of hope for the vampire race. Few believed him although many wanted to. How could you trust the rantings of a madman before the evidence of your senses?

Anatole spun round in a full circle with his arms outstretched as if to embrace all of his fellow vampires. "Hear me brothers and sisters in the Blood! The Vampire Savior has come once again! Already he has slain our deadliest enemies, soon he shall come to Makai to unite the Clans!"

A heckler in the crowd crowed, "argh, you are full of bat dung Anatole. Vampire Savior indeed! Demitri has not been seen for over six centuries, what makes you think that he survived that fight with Jedah?"

His eyes wild, his manner frenzied, Anatole decried the possibility of Demitri's demise to all in earshot. So powerful was the Madman's oration that soon a crowd had gathered to chant Demitri's name, to call forth the Undead Messiah to lead them again.

A force of Justicars made their presence known as the Elder's expressed their displeasure at this rabble rousing. Charged with enforcing the edicts of the Elders, the Justicars were about to resort to force in order to disperse the crowd when the sky opened.

A terrible "crack" could be heard all throughout Makai as the Veil between this and the Mortal world was breached. A castle floated down from the heavens and settled over the Senate. An imperious figure could be seen standing on the castle's parapet as a mind voice unlike any other the vampires had ever encountered echoed through the psyche of every vampire extant in Makai. "I am Demitri and I have returned. By dint of Blood I do hereby call all of the Clan Leaders to conference." Behind him was a mighty host far outnumbering the forces of any three Clans combined. Spies all over Makai ran with urgent news for their master. Once more the vampires had a lord.

Nervous and skittish, the leaders of the thirteen clans converged on the Senate with all due haste. They all knew that their power paled before the one who had summoned them. From time immemorial he had been their liege and now the King had once again returned to assume his throne.

That night, all the Clans pledged allegiance, some happily, others more grudgingly for what choice did they have? All the Clan leaders knew Demitri's power and his stern sense of justice. Serve him well and you flourished; betray him and demons will flinch to hear of your agonies.

Anatole kneeled before the imposing sight of Maximoff Castle. His eyes were wide with renewed hope, the eyes of a true believer who had his faith vindicated. Thus he was almost sent into flight when he found Demitri Maximoff himself descending towards him through the clouds.

"Anatole, I have heard of you. I have need of a herald to carry my word to my vassals. Do you pledge to serve me in this capacity with all your soul?"

Anatole prostrated before his dread lord as beads of blood trickled down his face. This was his greatest dream made stark reality. Beyond them really. Not only did he meet the great Vampire Savior in the flesh but his Master had called on him to serve. "Yes Master, YES!"

Demitri extended his hand to the prostrate vampire. "Then rise my Herald and take your place at my right hand."

Anatole found his first duty to be another fulfillment of a fantasy. He was to bear a missive from his master to the Queen of the Night, Morrigan, herself!