Demitri wrapped an arm possessively around Morrigan's waist even as her hands snaked up his neck. The two lovers watched as the Lunitari, the Moon of Blood, set in the West while her sister Nuitari, the Moon of Night, crested over the Eastern horizon. From the parapets of Aensland Castle, they could see all of Makai stretched forth before them in a breath-taking panorama.

"Someday, all of this will be yours. A tribute to our love," Demitri whispered into the succubi princess' ear. "I would accept nothing less than to crown you Queen of the Night."

Sengir awaited the return of his liege with a concerned frown. They had been pondering the conquest of Demon Emperor Ozum's realm when his lord had sped out of his castle in unseeming haste. Pouring a decanter of the finest vintage from Castle Maximoff's cellars, Sengir toasted the Night Moon.

His lord was one of the most powerful Vampires that Sengir ever had the privilege of serving. He prayed that Demitri would not be brought low by the wiles of a woman.

Within Makai plans were drawn and rumors flared. The impending wedding that would join two feuding realms stirred the usually stagnant hierarchy of the Demon Realms. With Moloch fallen, the Aensland realms could be taken but who would take the chance with Maximoff troops just across the border?

Numerous lesser vassal lords politicked and no small number considered shifting their allegiances. Traditional enemies such as vampires and succubi co-existed poorly and the thought that their leaders were to be joined turned many a refined stomach.

In the court of the Demon Emperor, chaos reigned as the Demon Princes vied for attention from their God-figure. The disorganized state of the Demon Emperor's domain left them vulnerable. For too long the Demon Princes warred amongst themselves. With their forces in utter disarray and more often than not locked in bitter strife with one another, they were ripe for conquest. And they knew it.

Emperor Ozum, ancient beyond measure watched even as his seven children bickered and postured. Some disregarded the threat posed by the other realms. Others were paranoid about it. Some proclaimed themselves general of the Demon hosts. Some called for a vote. Others demanded a recount. In short, it was pandemonium as ages-old Demon Princes argued like little children.

Once the babbling reached a fevered pitch, Emperor Ozum smashed a fist onto the arm of his throne while roaring for silence. The room became deadly quiet as the Demon Emperor remonstrated and admonished his children. And children they were. Petty, arrogant and spiteful, none of them had the nobility to lead. Not a single one could place his desires as subservient to that of the realm. Oh where did he go wrong as to raise a pack of mewling brats to succeed his throne? Ozum could have joined his consort in the comforting arms of the Dark ages ago if only he felt secure in leaving his realm in their hands. Knowing them, they would tear it apart in days.

Faced with the threat of utter annihilation, all they could do was fiddle as Rome burned, unable to put aside their differences for the common good.

Sengir looked with approval as the combined armies marched inexorably towards the Demon lands. As Marshal of Demitri's dominion, he was judge, jury and executioner of all transgressions against the Laws of the Realm. Despite this, he was a military man first and foremost and he appreciated just how well Ishan had trained the troops.

Vampires marched in tight formation, showing the discipline alien to most of Makai. Above them incubi and succubi swooped and played on the thermal currents. Forming the flanks were troops that Demitri had recruited during his stay on Ningenkai (Wrtier's note: Earth to us mere mortals). If there was one thing to be said about Demitri, he really did know how to have the best serve under him.

At the head of the host rode Demitri's honor guard, all of the Demon Hunters that Demitri had defeated upon his awakening. Their presence alone could turn the tide of battle and they had no qualms about being in the front lines. They were more than ready to die for their lord. After all, he was riding with them. The Maximoffs believed in leading from the front.

At the border between Maximoff and Demon lands, Anatole strode out from the lines and put a silver trumpet to his lips. Bedecked in ill-fitting finery, the lunatic was nevertheless trying his utmost to play his part in this momentous occasion. Inhaling deeply, he played a single sterling note, a clarion call to battle.

A page burst into the court while the Demon Princes cowered in fear before their father. The thought of them chastised like mere striplings would have brought a smile to the page's face at any other time but for now, his news was too dire for such ruminations.

"My Lord, we are attacked!"

With that single proclamation, the Demon Princes burst forth from the room to secure their own little realms in their empire, leaving Demon Emperor Ozum alone in his throne room. With his regrets.

Rather than the near-human visage of vampires or succubi, demons were all anthropomorphic manifestations of elemental evil. The seven demon races, the Fire, Ice, Earth, Storm, Snake, Mirror and Lightning Demons all fought separately, lacking any cohesiveness whatsoever. Although individually far mightier than their opponents, the demons found themselves overwhelmed by the massed might of the vampire Clans.

Leaving the insensate carcasses of their adversaries sprawled haphazardly on the battlefield, Demitri's army marched to Castle Ozum.

Emperor Ozum sat impassively on his throne even as the seven crystal globes that represented the lives of his children winked out one by one. Maximoff's gambit had paid off well indeed. During his exile he had amassed a cadre of troops whose powers were specifically keyed to slaying Creatures of the Dark such as themselves. Without them, even the combined forces of the Vampire Clans and the Succubi would have stymied upon encountering a Demon Prince. Through his Scrying Sphere he witnessed the demise of his offspring, some of the most inherently puissant creatures in Makai. Defeated by their own arrogance, so many had scoffed when confronted by their deceptively delicate foes.

The Demon Emperor finally managed to shed at tear when his eldest and most favored son was returned to the Dark. He would never forget the circumstances of his death. Relem always was the craftiest of the Demon Princes but even he never anticipated that Death would come from him in such a ludicrous form. A blonde girl dressed in a fuku pointed a bejeweled scepter at him. With her twin ponytails flapping in unnatural winds summoned by the sheer power she commanded, the odango-ed warrioress cried out the name of the attack that disintegrated Ozum's designated heir.

<MOON SCEPTER ANNIHILATION!>

At Castle Ozum's ocher gates, Demitri dismounted and handed the reigns of his nightmare to Anatole. Demon Emperor Ozum was a being of great dignity and that merited Demitri's respect. Although he had pledged to wrest control of the realm from Ozum, Demitri would do so as befitting one of the first rulers of Makai.

In his throne room, Ozum heard Demitri's voice, amplified to the crash of thunder by his power. "I, Demitri Maximoff, Lord of Makai do hereby request an audience with his Imperial Majesty, Demon Emperor Ozum."

Ozum nodded in approval. Usurper and upstart that he may be, at least this scion of the Maximoffs still had respect for tradition.

"I, Demon Emperor Ozum do thus admit my guest from afar. Enter Demitri Maximoff and be welcome under my roof."

Demitri strode into the throne room with all of the dignity he could muster. There seated upon a throne of ebony was the Demon Emperor himself. Elfin in likeness, seemingly carved out of Darkness; the Night Demon who rose to be Demon Emperor could have been mistaken for a Drow (Dark Elf) with his stark white locks. And yet no one sane would have confused him with such a lesser being. He was power distilled, an embodiment of Makai's eternal night itself. An entity that had ruled in Makai long before revolts against his progeny created the Seven Realms, one that had survived and prospered during the chaos that saw four of the realms fall. Demitri was not intimidated....much.

Demitri bowed once in a gesture of sincere respect.

Ozum sized up the whelp before him. Maximoff blood had run true in its latest heir. As old a human civilization, Demitri was nonetheless one of the youngest of the Lords of Makai. Despite his youth, he had integrity and nobility, the hallmarks of any true-bred Maximoff. If he had to lose his realm, at least be it to someone who would care for it as his own.

Ozum returned Demitri's bow with a nod of his head, from one equal to another.

Demitri looked shocked that Ozum would display anything save contempt for his attacker. Clearing his throat in a rare parody of mortals, Demitri intoned, "Demon Emperor Ozum, I have defeated yon armies on the fields of battle. By the ancient laws of the Dark, I have earned the right to challenge you for the rule of your realm."

"As the challenged, I reserve the right to determine the means of the challenge." Ozum said as he snapped his fingers. A page brought out a pair of slim blades hewn from the Spires of Fire when the world was young. "A duel until first blood or surrender. Let the victor dictate terms."

Drawing himself to his full height, Demitri nodded once, perfunctorily. "Agreed."

As the Elder, Demon Emperor Ozum chose his weapon first and hefted the sword easily in his hands. Demitri drew the remaining blade and accustomed himself to its balance. As if to some imperceptible signal, challenged and challenger both fell into en garde stances simultaneously.

Their duel was the stuff legends were made off; a magnificent dance of thrust, parry and riposte. It harkened back to a time when men were Men and honor was more than just a word. It lacked the animal fury of Demitri's battle against Moloch, instead it held a surreal quality. Powerful beyond mortal bounds, neither combatant drew on the abilities that was their birthright. Instead they let their swords become an extension of themselves in this contest of wills. Darkstalkers never tired and their swordsmanship was evenly matched so it all came down to who made that first fatal error; the person who lost his concentration and allowed his defense to slip. What really defined this battle was the stakes involved: complete control over all of Makai. However, there was no sense of animosity whatsoever as their blades clashed again and again.

Inevitably, eventually, one of the contesting Lords faltered just for a split second. A momentary slowing of the sword-arm that was nearly indistinguishable from the rhythm of the duel. But against a Lord of Makai, such an error was often fatal. With a final ringing stroke, one of the blades flew out of the grasp of its wielder.

Ozum knelt before Demitri. Disarmed, he had little choice but to yield the challenge. "End it, send me to the Dark to join my consort and children. You owe me at least that much."

Demitri sheathed his sword smoothly. "A Demon Emperor has always sat on this throne and a Demon Emperor always will. Hear my terms Ozum. You shall continue to rule your realm but as my vassal. Someday when I pass into the Dark, my heir shall be wed to your designated successor so that the three royal lines will become one. You may choose a consort from any of the inhabitants of Makai. Save for my queen of course." This last line was said with a wry grin.

Ozum, Demon Emperor still looked up at Demitri with inscrutable eyes. "Does she have a sister?"

For the first time, two Lords of Makai laughed in harmony.