The Vaid Empire

Vaid Empire: Conquest

Chapter 119

13th of Onis, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Deep Desert. 

Salik stared up at the night sky. Lying upon the dark sand of the open desert, a black void hung above him. The moon Onis floated like a green island in the darkness far beyond his reach. 

As he stared at the sky, he wondered if his mother was looking up at the same moon. Was she even alive? 

He glanced over to see his companions sleeping around him as they rested upon the flat sand. Old wounds were wrapped in dirty bandages or strips of bloody cloth. Their group had departed Arkos-Nu with twenty fresh assassins. Now, they were half that number, and anything but fresh. 

Perhaps they were cursed. Perhaps they had simply been unlucky. The desert was dangerous, though they had suffered misfortune after misfortune. 

The dunes outside the underground city had proven to be tranquil compared to what they endured beyond. Narok was a harsh land, though not entirely unforgiving. The danger had been the environment itself, for thirst or starvation claimed many unprepared travelers. They had been prepared, and thus they had crossed the Arkos kingdom with little issue. 

Their fate had shifted when they neared the border, however. Beyond Narok, the dunes of the desert were infested. 

The deeper they had ventured into the desert of Wonakaros, the more the black sands sought to consume them. Their nights were filled with horrors. 

Even the day had proven hazardous. Simple missteps had seen his men fall. On the first day outside Narok, a Dril had unknowingly stepped upon the buried entrance to a horrid creature’s burrow. Fangs as long as daggers had easily pierced his boot. Though they had cut off his leg, the venom had spread too quickly. They buried him beneath the desert. 

The following night had been catastrophic. Awaking in the darkness, they had discovered that the wind had extinguished a portion of the ring of torches they set up around their camp each night. It was too late. They had found monstrosities drinking the blood of their dead mounts. 

On foot, their journey was slow. When their Arkos guides had been attacked and killed by a serpent with several tails, it became much slower. Only one among their group held enough knowledge to vaguely guide them in their place, a younger Dril who now wore a dirty cloth over a missing eye after another particularly horrid night. 

After more than two months of wandering through the desert, Salik’s men were beaten and bloodied. Only he remained unwounded, his blade stained with the blood of monstrosities. 

The Potentate himself had made a journey of his own into the desert decades ago. Salik remembered hearing the tale from one of the men who had accompanied their leader, though he hadn’t ventured half as deep into Arkos lands as they attempted to now. 

As Salik looked out at the desert, he wondered if The Potentate had thought of his son while enduring the same darkness he did now. 

The ring of torches around them flickered in the windless night. In the still air he heard the sound of shifting sand, peering over to watch as a creature emerged from where it had rested just beneath the surface nearby. A nocturnal beast, it smelled their group. 

He sat up, watching with cold red eyes as the beast crept towards their camp. It stopped just beyond the torches, held back by the light as it lingered in place. The fragile light flickered over its smooth skin, as black as the void. A tall biped, it stood hunched over, studying him without eyes. Lanky, almost skeletal, its body supported an egg-shaped head, its cranium split halfway down its featureless face to reveal a vicious smile of jagged teeth. 

It stood there, watching without watching, claws as sharp as blades tapping lightly together. Salik gripped the hilt of his sword, always ready, yet he made no move as he simply studied the creature. A horror lingered before him, its grinning teeth white in the night. One predator regarded the other in silence. 

Held back by the torches, the creature waited for what seemed to be an eternity before retreating into the darkness. It skittered across the desert to find other prey, disappearing into the night. Salik’s grip eased. 

Though the desert was quiet, he knew there were countless others resting beneath the sand. 

He looked down at his blade. Ynisa was no longer around to clean it. 

Tonight, like many before, he’d get no sleep. Taking both of his blades, he began to polish the black steel of both weapons to pass the time. 

Light gleamed off his blades as he cleaned them, remembering how Ynisa had taught him to maintain them. Never could the black steel rust, yet he lovingly ensured they were spotless. 

He thought of her as he saw his own dark reflection in the steel. She had seen Salik rather than his blades. Still he had sent her away. Once more, a mistake had made a mistake. 

“Varisa.” The name whispered through his head, almost forbidden. The child’s cries had endangered the mission, yet still he found himself growing restless in the silence of their absence. 

Resting his blades beside his helmet, he looked down at the only gifts he had ever received during his life. Such thoughts were for a man, a person. Salik was only a tool. He had proven that when he sent her away. 

As he peered out into the dark night, he silenced his regrets and hardened his heart. His purpose was clear. 

Sheathing his blades and donning his helmet, he steeled himself for all that was to come. 

45th of Twic, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Narok, Arkos-Nu. 

The private study of an imperial princess hung in silence as Nafalya worked deep into the night. Nestled within the estate that had become the temporary headquarters of the Truthseekers, the quiet air of the messy chamber offered no hint of the anticipation that poisoned the city outside. With each passing day, the coming war approached. 

Seated at her desk, she inscribed several message cylinders with a list of names. Their work had been gradual as to ensure the legion didn’t panic, yet one by one, those that had been the loudest supporters of the mutiny in Fask either disappeared or fell to unlucky accidents. 

The legion had enjoyed its rest. The blood of traitors had been quietly spilled. As they neared the day they would finally march against Wonakaros, only a select few remained. 

Nafalya sealed their fates with a few symbols etched into wood. Closing the message cylinders, she smirked as she beheld her work. 

Hardly had a day passed where Hesin did not train. He prepared himself and the others for whatever was to come. It had only been natural for Nafalya to eagerly accept additional responsibilities to aid her lover. 

Putting the cylinders aside, she stood up and stretched her flexible body. She ran a hand over her flat midriff, enjoying the feeling of her agile form, for her womb was empty once more. She had given birth mere days ago to an Arkos hybrid, yet already her body had completely recovered. Smirking, she savored the otherworldly abilities of her blood. A lover could inspect every inch of her, inside and out, yet never could they discover signs that she had given birth. 

As she caressed her own alluring form, she noticed faint marks etched into the bottoms of each message cylinder. Peering closer in the gentle light of a dying candle, she realized that each cylinder bore one symbol each. 

More than intrigued, she sat down and studied them closer. Slaves kept her well supplied with blank cylinders to ensure she could complete her work. This particular set had been waiting in her study when she arrived for the night, like always. Now, however, she realized they were anything but an ordinary delivery. 

Biting her lip, she recognized the symbols in an instant. Only one other person knew their meaning, for she and Hesin had created them together to encrypt their private, intimate, messages. She arranged and rearranged them until a message began to form. 

“Tomb of the greedy kings. Tonight.” 

Nafalya smirked. The words were vague, though she could almost hear Hesin’s voice speak them as she read. Ever was he a curiosity. 

Hardly did she waste a moment. Leaving the messy study behind, she donned her mask and moved through the shadows of the quiet estate. Stepping out into the dark street, her nearly translucent robes fluttered with each silent stride, concealing nothing. 

She moved like a ghost through the night, amusing herself by avoiding the sight of the guards. Only when she reached the palace did she find herself unable to sneak inside, finding every possible entrance, no matter how small, watched and protected. She had defeated herself, pleased to see that the carefully planned guard placement and rotation she and Hesin had designed together and suggested to her father had proven impenetrable. Here, in Arkos-Nu, even she was incapable of slipping inside unseen. 

The guards bowed before the daughter of their holy ruler as she proudly strode inside, feeling their gazes lingering upon her form. She granted everyone she passed a show, swaying her hips as she made her way through the subterranean corridors. 

Empty of slaves and nobles at such a late hour, the palace became a lonelier place the deeper she ventured. The guards gradually decreased until they vanished entirely when she slipped past the final pair standing at the top of a staircase. It descended into the deepest depths of the world. Beneath the desert, beneath a mountain, a silent crypt offered a place for the bones of kings to rest. At the bottom of the endless stairs, she found the chamber’s heavy doors parted just enough for her to slip inside, offering darkness within. 

She paused outside the crack in the doors. There could be no doubt that Hesin had sent the message, yet always would she remain prepared. Unsheathing her dagger, she felt her power spark within the white blade. 

Entering the black grasp of the ancient tomb, she sensed him. A lone figure waited in the darkness. Electricity trickled up her blade, the light gently illuminating the man she had longed to see. 

“You’re early.” Seated upon the lid of a low sarcophagus, Hesin broke from his thoughts, clearly having savored the solitude. “I continue to underestimate you. How foolish.” 

She eyed him with curiosity. His cloak remained draped over the stone lid as he stood. To her amusement, she realized he was wearing nothing but his mask, utterly bare before her. “What is this game, master?” 

“You know it well.” He began to light the candles he had placed around the sarcophagus, bathing them both in red light. The darkness was peeled back to reveal more of the crypt, just as decorated as the rest of the palace. Sarcophaguses were placed in neat lines, forming rows of dead rulers. 

Sheathing her dagger, Nafalya couldn’t help but smirk when Hesin picked up a pair of leather cuffs, dangling them from a finger to taunt her. “So I do.” Stepping closer, she removed her mask and ran a hand down his bare chest, pressing her lips close to let him feel her warm breath against his neck. “Who first?” 

Hesin answered by removing his own mask, placing it carefully upon the stone lid. Never would he taint his true face with the shame of his submission. He’d let the original bear his coming indignity. 

She needed no words. Their game was more than familiar. Commanding him to turn around, she fastened the cuffs tightly around his wrists to bind them behind his back. 

A nod guided her attention to the far end of the sarcophagus. There, she found a lock pick and gag waiting. 

“Torakeom would be quite displeased to learn we’re disturbing the rest of his predecessors.” She placed the lock pick in his grasp. “No doubt he believes this place to be sacred.” 

“The old fool shall never know,” he said, turning back around to study her. A devious expression spread across his scarred features. “Yet another secret we’ll share.” 

Nafalya bit her lip, his words bringing a dampness between her legs. She held the gag ready, though held back. “Why now?” 

Hesin’s gaze darkened. Their moments alone had become rare since encountering the Dril. He wouldn’t ask for forgiveness. “I’ve been preoccupied, though tonight I’m yours, and yours alone.” 

She saw the worry in his eye, a subtle thing, yet she knew him well. They were both aware that their days in Arkos-Nu were limited. When they marched at last, there was no telling how often they’d be able to enjoy such moments together. The danger ahead was immense, and their duties would require much of them both. “As I am yours.” 

He made no move to resist as she gagged him. Submitting to her control, he held the lock pick ready. Until he managed to free himself, he truly was hers. 

Hungrily studying her prey, Nafalya forcefully guided him onto his back atop the lid of the sarcophagus, allowing his legs to hang over the edge as she stood between them. His discarded cloak protected his bare skin from the cool surface, dark stone decorated with inlaid patterns of gold. 

“Hesin, Hesin, Hesin,” she said with a teasing smirk, slowly undressing herself. She took her time, stripping her transparent robes to reveal her alluring body. The red light danced across her skin, for only her white thong remained to conceal her. “My curious master. What shall I do to you, I wonder?” 

Hardly was he in any rush. Beholding his mate looming before him, a temptress, he began to use the lock pick. Already had the lock been designed to be difficult, yet the awkward angle of having his wrists trapped beneath him increased his struggle further. 

Brushing her fingers against his manhood, she watched it stir. With a devious smirk, her soft hands caressed the cock of her lover, easily coaxing it to rise. 

Her touch was soft, gentle fingers gliding lightly to make his loins ache. She offered him only a hint of what was to come, mere fingertips brushing his sensitive shaft. 

Nafalya took great satisfaction in watching him squirm, lightly teasing the cock that had sired her heir. It deserved to be praised, rewarded, pleasured, yet she offered little more than a taste of her touch. 

At her mercy, Hesin pushed his hips up, wordlessly begging for more. All too aware of his visible need, she moved closer and lifted her leg, draping it over the stone lid as she pressed her groin against his. He uttered a moan, feeling her gently rubbing her royal cunny against his shaft, separated only by the thin silk of her thong. He could feel her juices wetting the revealing garment, the silk clinging to her vaginal lips. 

“You want to slide inside me, do you not?” she asked. When he nodded, she merely chuckled. “How simple that would be. I think not.” 

Groaning, he felt her continuing to tease him with every movement of her hips. Every instinct yearned to pull aside her thong and slide inside her tight, warm, wet embrace. Distracted by his aching need, he momentarily dropped the lock pick. 

She savored every second, watching his cock twitch helplessly. Her vagina was as close as possible, yet she’d deny his desperate manhood all the same. When she pulled her groin away, she watched him buck his hips. 

Craving her, obsessing over the gorgeous body on display, Hesin watched as she settled between his legs and crouched. The low height of the sarcophagus allowed her to comfortably brush her lips against the base of his manhood. With a long, slow lick, she ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft up to the tip. 

“I’ve heard many whispers,” Nafalya began, taking his testicles in her grasp. She held them firmly, just enough to cause discomfort as she ran her thumb over his orbs. “The God Emperor has such grand plans for our bloodline.” 

Aware that she could crush them if she wished, though knowing she never would, he savored her domination. The caresses of her thumb were nearly loving, silently praising the source of her son. 

“None outside our family know of his designs. Never shall I utter his secrets without his command, though he trusts you more than most.” Her other hand found his cock once more, gliding her thumb lightly up and down the underside of his shaft to make him squirm. “He wants you to know the fate of little Atrix.” 

Hesin moaned at her touch, blissfully tortured by the knowledge that she had spent ample time in her father’s bed recently. While he trained relentlessly, his mate savored the touch of her own father, learning his secrets and moaning whenever The God Emperor claimed the body he had created. 

“House Vaid shall look inward when seeking to conceive the next generation. Cousin shall impregnate cousin.” She bit her lip, feeling her loins tingling at the thought. “Our little prince shall breed whatever spawn the twins manage to produce.” 

The taboo truth made Hesin buck his hips in lust. A tingle of panic distracted him as her hands abandoned him, only to groan in utter pleasure as she maneuvered to let his cock slide between her breasts. He pushed his hips upwards, utterly delighting in the sensation. 

“Our grandchild shall breed with the spawn of Cliax and Jinilya, uniting the branches of our House into one,” she said, her voice smooth as she held her breasts, beginning to pleasure his cock between them. “Our bloodline shall mix within a future God Emperor. Our descendants shall sit upon my father’s throne.” 

Pleasure poured through his loins, matching his utter delight at the truth she offered. He moaned, feeling his cock gliding between the perky flesh of his lover, her royal skin soft as it rubbed against his shaft. Her ample breasts enveloped his unimpressive manhood, the shape of them utterly perfect. 

“You don’t deserve such a fate, Hesin,” he thought to himself, slowly bucking his hips to match the movements of her breasts. He wanted to grab them, to roughly thrust until he painted her beautiful face with his seed, yet still he submitted to her. “A vile man like you is unworthy of being the ancestor of God Emperors.” 

She smirked at his visible ecstasy. “Your blood shall rule Ayphieal, Hesin.” Each of her moments sought to reward his cock for assisting in the creation of her legacy. Their shared descendants would continue to guide The Empire they had both committed their lives to. 

“Weep for The Empire when your weak blood touches the throne,” he told himself, moaning. Despite his self-loathing thoughts, however, Hesin couldn’t help but endure his deep satisfaction. Through his submission, through his pleasure, the reality of what she promised seeped in. He played the part of a helpless slave in their game, yet the man inside him couldn’t help but feel utter exultation. 

“Our little Atrix shall be our legacy, Hesin,” she continued, watching his pleasure with a deep satisfaction of her own. Her perky flesh jiggled with every movement of her flawless breasts. 

For decades, The Empire had been his life. In every way, it was his purpose. He had sought to build a world of stability and justice at The God Emperor’s side, and so they had, conquest after conquest. He had spilled the blood of countless, each death for the greater good of their new world, innocent or otherwise. He had stained his hands to build something greater, and now he learned that his descendants would rule over the result with powerful Vaid blood in their veins. 

For a single moment, forgetting Clin, forgetting all he had lost, forgetting even his pleasure, Hesin dared to feel at peace. 

A thought of the Dril brought him back to reality. Hardly was their victory assured, yet he’d slaughter anyone who sought to endanger the future Nafalya promised. 

“Yes, Hesin. Ache. From this cock has come the future,” she teased. “Though until you escape, you cannot cum.” 

Hips bucking, he nearly reached his limit before she pulled away. Straining in blissful frustration, he was left to twitch. Only when she deemed him safely away from the reach of an orgasm did she slide his cock between her breasts once more. 

The enveloping caress of her perky flesh was a torturous paradise. Every instinct begged him to finish, to unleash his sperm from where it rested trapped inside. When she pulled away a second time, he groaned into his gag. 

Nafalya tormented him without mercy. Each time she allowed his cock to glide between her gorgeous mounds, he moaned with ecstasy. Each time she pulled away, he bucked his hips in utter desperation, humping nothing but empty air. 

She stood up, momentarily taunting him by caressing her alluring body, savoring the twitching agony of his denied cock before returning to tease it. He was little more than a slave beneath her control, utterly lost in the pleasure of his shameful submission. 

Aching, yearning, Hesin struggled until the lock at last surrendered. Breaking free, he heard her amused chuckle as she stepped back, watching as he yanked off the gag. It was his turn. 

Standing, he approached slowly, watching her playfully retreat as he held the leather cuffs ready, lust burning in his gaze. She found her back pressing against the wall, unable to escape as he reached her. Frantic lips dueled, hands desperately exploring her curves. 

Enraptured by his needs, he broke away from her only when he found the strength. “Everything you said…” There could be no doubt. He had to know. “Did you speak the truth?” 

“Even I wouldn’t torment you with such falsehoods.” Her expression grew serious as her lust lingered upon her darkened cheeks, offering her sincerity. “Every word was the truth.” 

Frozen for a mere moment, he attacked her once more. Their tongues dueling, his manhood raged with desperation. 

She offered no resistance as he forced her arms behind her back and locked her wrists together. Such was only fair. Forgoing her domination, she submitted eagerly as he roughly guided her atop the sarcophagus in his place, allowing him to gag her. 

He would grant her no lock pick. Until he was done, she was his. His hand ran over her curves, feeling her thighs as she playfully held them together. Every inch, every detail, was utter perfection, a goddess in his grasp. 

His fingers felt her smooth skin beneath his touch, the softest sensation he had ever enjoyed. The finest silks could never compare to the skin of a Vaid, for his fingertips tingled at the mere touch of her body. 

Her clenched thighs could not save her. Hands seeking, he ran a finger along the edge of her thong. Her deadly silver eyes offered a challenge, and he gently rubbed her lower lips through the white fabric, feeling how wet she had grown. 

The touch of her labia made his desire scream within him, yet he took his time. He had endured much. He could endure a little longer. 

Commanding her to roll over, she obeyed with curiosity in her gaze. With his lover on her stomach, he beheld her flawless rear, running his hands up the back of her feminine thighs and over her soft asscheeks. Caressing her, worshipping her body, he obsessed over every glorious detail. Her royal form appeared as if it had been created to drive men to insanity with desire, forcing his loins to boil with lust. 

Massaging her rump, he could endure no more. Taking hold of her childbearing hips, he guided her rear to rise. Resting her head against the stone lid, she wiggled her rump with a taunting smirk, all too aware of her own perfection. 

Hesin slowly pulled down her thong to reveal her sweet lower lips, watching her juices glistening in the red light. The sight of her vagina called to him, urging his cock forth. 

He paused only to retrieve his mask. Concealing his scars, he wished to enjoy the gorgeous gift before him with his true face. The submissive Hesin faded into the depths of his mind, momentarily replaced with that of Nafalya’s dominant lover. Forever would he be both her cuckold and her breeder. 

A push of his hips slid his cock inside her, hilting himself as deeply as he could reach as they groaned together. The desperation and frustration that had gathered inside him shattered in an instant, feeling the tight bliss of her eager loins. 

He began to thrust, holding her hips as she submitted. He savored the unfaithful vagina that had recently birthed a hybrid child that wasn’t his, yet already she had returned to her former tightness. 

Fingers digging into her soft flesh, craving nothing more than to cum deep inside of her fertile body, he knew such a thing would only disturb The God Emperor’s plans, plans that were all he could ever hope for. 

Vixin had helped train Nafalya to avoid pregnancy whenever she desired to. He could spill his seed with minimal concern, yet as he fondled her rear, he found himself yearning for something new. 

Quickly brought to the edge of his finish, Hesin pulled himself free before it was too late. Cock tingling, his thumb ventured to lightly brush the puckered hole of her rear, gently testing her. 

Glancing back, Nafalya’s surprise turned into curiosity. Silver eyes dripping with desire, she couldn’t help but nod. 

Hesin pressed the tip of his cock against the entrance of her rear. It was only fitting. She hadn’t granted him her vaginal virginity. She hadn’t allowed him to sire her firstborn. All they had enjoyed together had come after her father had claimed what was rightfully his. In this, however, she could offer him something The God Emperor hadn’t yet explored. 

Bracing herself, she groaned as he slid inside. Hesin was her master. He was her lover. He was her mate. Neither wished to torture the other with needless words of affection. Instead, she demonstrated her loyalty by granting him the final prize she could offer. As his cock ventured deep into her rear, she moaned his name into her gag as he claimed her anal virginity. 

Gritting his teeth behind his mask at the feeling of her delectable tightness, he hardly dared to move. Forcing himself to begin thrusting, he knew that every second pushed him dangerously close towards his finish. He felt her puckered hole squeeze him without mercy, embracing the cock that had bred her. 

Nafalya’s hands squeezed into fists as she endured the strange new sensation, yet her eyes fluttered in bliss. Her loins tingled with jealousy, her lower lips dripping with desire as her rear received his attention instead. 

Holding her rump firmly, Hesin could hardly endure for long. He savored every thrust, knowing each one could be his last. 

The God Emperor had granted him a chance to construct a life of purpose for himself. His daughter had become a companion he didn’t deserve. Now, as she remained on her knees before him, bent over to submit to his cock, he savored the body that had granted him a son and a legacy, a promise that his life’s work would have meaning. 

From the blood of his family, from the ashes of Nitri, he had risen. A boy that had been denied justice had grown into a man that had forged a better world. 

Now his descendants would one day hold The Empire itself in their grasp, the inheritors of all he had spilled blood to protect. 

Driving his hips forward, Hesin found his orgasm. With blinding bliss, he spilled his seed inside the rump of an imperial princess, the only woman he had ever loved, though never did he care to admit it. 

49th of Twic, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Deep Desert. 

In the desert, Salik found a forest. 

The group of Dril assassins strode with renewed vigor as they neared the end of their miserable journey. Having lost the weakest of their number to the terrible dunes, only the strongest of them remained, hardened and scarred. Even still, their determination couldn’t distract them from marveling at the alien landscape of their surroundings. 

Having left the open desert behind, they ventured through a vast cluster of charom stems. Standing tall as they sprouted from the black sand, the bizarre coral-like plants were like trees from another world. Branches bare of leaves sprouted like chaotic growths, their skin as hard as stone. Endless shapes, countless sizes, each stem stood out as a unique artwork among a forest of brilliance. 

They had passed countless lone charom stems during their journey. Some were small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Others had grown to loom over the dunes like lonely giants offering shade. So too had they seen them grow in clusters, each a small oasis in the desert. Now, however, they navigated the depths of no less than a full forest, surrounded by towering stems in all directions. 

Hardly could Salik believe they still ventured through the same land that held the barren desert of their torment. The bioluminescent glow of the plants was otherworldly at night, yet even during the day, the countless shades of purples, blues, and greens were breathtakingly vivid. 

No doubt Ynisa would have enjoyed the sight of them. 

The sound of voices ahead stopped Salik in place. His raised hand made the others freeze in an instant. He commanded them to hold back with silent commands as he crept forward. 

There, through the forest of charom stems, awaited their purpose. An Arkos camp lay spread out beneath vivid branches. 

They saw him the moment he saw them, glancing up to see scouts concealed overhead. They regarded him in silence, orange eyes meeting deadly red. 

With a wordless signal, he summoned his men to approach. The voices in the camp fell away long before they stepped out into the open, Dril assassins meeting waiting Arkos. The natives of the desert stood with their hands upon their sheathed blades, yet they made no move to stop their approach. 

Coming to a stop in the center of the small camp, they waited. Dril against Arkos, lingering in silence, only the distant clicking calls of wildlife echoed as they faced each other. It seemed the air between them could be cut with a blade, thick beneath the morning light. 

The only movement caught the attention of them all. Striding through the charom stems surrounding their camp, a young woman moved through her fellow Arkos to seize her position at the front. She studied the Dril group, her cold gaze settling upon his dark helmet. “Salik. You’re him, aren’t you?” 

Her question came in the Arkos tongue. He answered in his own. “Yes.” A single word was all he offered, harsh and low. 

Offering nothing but serious features, she touched the wrist of the nearest Arkos. At once, the others released their grip upon their blades. “Long have we waited, snow dweller.” 

A glance told his men to do the same. His red eyes were not amused. “We were delayed.” 

If she expected more, she saw she wouldn’t receive it. Biting back whatever she wanted to say, she instead nodded at those behind him. “Let your men rest. We brought ample supplies.” She gestured for Salik to walk with her. “I suppose we should talk.” 

He understood her native tongue, having studied it during his training under Vesh. Hearing her switch to speak the Dril tongue instead, however, his deadly expression eased. “As you wish.” 

Together they left their assassins behind, Dril cautiously replenishing their supplies from reluctant Arkos hands. Leaving the camp, they strolled through the charom forest in private. 

“What do they call you?” he asked quietly, side-eying her. His heavy steps crunched the sand. She walked lightly, the only sound coming from the soft jingle of the rings decorating her skirt. 

“Naram.” She folded her arms across her breasts, her tail swaying with every graceful step. “We didn’t seek your assistance.” 

“Nor did we seek yours.” Seeing her skirt brushing against the grey skin of her smooth thighs, he turned his cold gaze forward. 

Swallowing her pride, her expression eased once more. Away from the others, her tone lowered further. “You know our commands.” It wasn’t a question. 

Once more, he dared to look over at her. He saw distaste lingering in her pretty, albeit serious, gaze. He shared it. “The human has no other weakness.” 

They were both aware of how The God Emperor had retreated to his Capital after the death of his Concubine Empress. He was a monster, a creature far too powerful to face directly without an advantage of their own. Until they found that advantage, targeting his family was all that could possibly weaken him now. 

“The dishonor…” she muttered before shaking her head with a scowl. “One should strike directly at the heart of their target, not his children.” 

The Potentate’s aims were clear. He despised them, yet he’d fulfill his purpose by any means necessary. “I’ll do what I must. No less.” 

Her lips hardened, though she wouldn’t argue further. She would not disobey her father. “We’ll attempt to take them alive, first.” Neither would break their commands, though their orders did not necessarily demand death. “Hostages shall prove more useful than corpses.” 

“Alive.” Salik nodded. His distaste lessened, though his determination remained. “Though only if possible. If not, there can be no hesitation.” 

She considered his words before uttering a silent sigh. “No hesitation. So be it.” They walked wordlessly through the vibrant forest for a long moment before she spoke, her tone hardly more than a whisper. “Who did you have in mind?” 

Long had Salik pondered. Long had he planned. Such thoughts disgusted him, yet he knew the human better than most. “The one they call the golden prince.” He remembered watching the boy from afar. The son of the monster’s firstborn. The first grandchild of the tyrant. Such would make him kneel the quickest. “Cliax.” 

Naram peered over with uncertainty. “Not his heir?” 

Salik shook his head. The boy was too well guarded. So too did Cliax endure a close watch like his younger cousins, though less so than The Prince Upholder himself. Though he said nothing, he knew his enemy well. The God Emperor offered the blond boy no more visible favor than the rest of his kin, yet the grandchild he shared with his first love was a weakness he’d never acknowledge. Salik would bring him to his knees. 

“Cliax, then.” She accepted his plan with reluctance. 

As they neared the edge of the forest, Salik watched as the charom stems grew smaller, the density of the massive cluster easing. “No doubt the humans shall march soon. We must be ready.” 

Now it was time to rely on her expertise. For the first time since they had met, her serious lips permitted the smallest hint of a smile. “Indeed. I’ve given much thought to a plan.” 

Stepping into the open desert, the coral-like tree line at their backs, she put her hands on her svelte hips with satisfaction. 

Salik’s red eyes widened subtly. Far in the distance, he watched as a Wonak lumbered across the desert, slowly making its way to feast upon the charom forest. He beheld the legendary creature, having never witnessed a larger beast. It crawled along on its six leathery legs, dragging its long tail behind it. 

Atop its back, carried upon its gargantuan shell, he could see the structures of an Arkos village. 

The Holy Kromak had called every Wonak to return to the ancient festival city. All across the desert, the colossal beasts crept along, slowly making their way towards holy Arkos-Tul. Hundreds of miles into the deep desert, the beast he beheld would require months before it arrived. 

“My people gather for war. The Kromak shall make his stand.” She gestured towards the distant moving village. “The furthest Wonaks won’t arrive before the humans march. This one stands directly in The God Emperor’s path.” 

Quickly seeing the possibilities before him, Salik’s gaze ignited with interest. No doubt the humans would meet the creature with ample curiosity. “A delay in its journey could be arranged.” 

“Indeed.” She straightened proudly. They shared the same thoughts. 

As they stood together, they watched the moving village creeping towards them, the ideal setting for an ambush. 

28th of Thriduin, 21 AVE. 

Kingdom of Narok, Arkos-Nu. 

The golden prince followed his mother, struggling to keep up with her long strides. An urgency drove every proud step as she made her way through the palace, though he yearned with every inch of his being to retreat back beneath his sheets. Such was impossible now. He had been summoned. 

Emerging from the palace entrance, they found The God Emperor waiting in the gardens outside. The conqueror savored the smell of a small white flower. Turning to regard them, his silver gaze fell upon his grandson. 

Cendra dutifully kissed her father before bending over to take Cliax’s chin in her grasp. Holding him firmly as she met his eyes, her low voice offered no comfort. “Be strong.” 

Hardly did she linger, for Dominax’s summoning command had made it clear that she held no place in the discussion to come. While he remained entirely focused on the boy, Cendra respectfully bowed her head before departing with merely a word. “Father.” 

Left alone with The God Emperor, Cliax’s instincts to return to the safety of his bed flared tenfold. Still, he stood firmly. 

“Come with me, boy,” Dominax commanded, turning away. “Let us take a walk.” 

Cliax couldn’t imagine the consequences of fleeing now. He wouldn’t run. Despite his reluctance, he hurried to follow. 

Dominax led him through the streets of Arkos-Nu, passing the large estates near the palace as a group of waiting guards quickly formed a protective ring around the two Vaids. The city was alive with movement, for legionaries marched about as they prepared for their coming departure. Despite the orderly flow of white cloaks, weapons, supplies, and slaves, all were forced to keep ample distance from their ruler. 

Once more, the young prince struggled to keep up. His grandfather clasped his hands behind his back, offering nothing more than a cold silence to accompany his powerful strides. 

At last, he spoke. Keeping his attention forward, his tone was low and harsh. “They tell me you continue to wither beneath your sheets each day.” His lips hardened with displeasure. “More is expected of a Vaid.” 

Cliax looked at the ground, his small cloak fluttering with every step, matching that of his grandfather’s. 

Dominax slowed his pace. In the center of a stream of people flowing through the streets, pouring between rows of buildings, he and Cliax were secluded islands separated from the rest. At last, he glanced over at the boy. “Your father was a good man, though he shall never return.” 

Long had Cliax wondered why his father hadn’t been declared a traitor for abandoning his duties. Now, glancing up, he saw the respect The God Emperor held for him still resting in his gaze, a bitter and unwanted thing. Many knew the truth about Clin’s scorning of The Empire, yet Truthseeker lies had flooded the population to drown such a truth. Countless false and contradictory tales were manufactured, yet officially Lord Clin remained a fallen hero. 

“Would you honor his memory by sulking eternally? Shall you cast aside his legacy by crumbling?” Dominax asked. When he saw the defeated despair seizing the boy’s expression, his own subtly eased. “What has your mother told you of your grandmother?” 

“L…Lady Briza?” Cliax said the name just loud enough to be heard above the noise of the busy street. With the population held far back, however, none could hear the words they shared. “Nothing. She refuses to speak of her.” 

Lips tightening, Dominax nodded. “So be it. Know this then, child. Your grandmother was a…special being, nothing less than the greatest of women. She too would demand that you rise from your sheets and live.” 

Cliax’s curiosity couldn’t help but flare. “Was she…kind?” Long had he pondered his source. 

Dominax raised an eyebrow, though nodded. “Kindness can be a weakness, yet never was she weak.” He slowed to a stop, losing himself to old memories. “She understood the need to act when necessary, though never was she cruel.” His gaze grew dark. “She tempered me in those early days.” 

The prince drank in his words, hearing hints of his grandfather’s sorrow. For the first time, the all-knowing ruler looming before him was a man, rather than a creature to be feared. Had he ever seen him more…human? 

“Never could she be replaced, despite my attempts.” Never had he been more honest to the boy. Straightening, looking down with a hard expression, he towered over Cliax. “Very little remains of her. If you believe I shall allow her legacy to wither and crumble as you lie defeated in bed each day, you are gravely mistaken, boy.” 

Cliax felt his lip quiver, though he remembered his mother’s words, fighting to remain strong. 

“This world shall seek to shatter you, yet you must survive. If not for yourself, for your purpose.” He turned away once more. “Come, child.” 

They continued to walk, navigating the streets. Fighting to keep up, Cliax eyed the passing population as they were held back by the legion. Terrified Arkos were forced to bow before their passing conqueror. The boy felt a knot form in his stomach. 

Reaching the busy central plaza, they were protected from the organized chaos by the ring of guards. All around, human men and women rushed to fulfill their commands as they prepared to go to war, while the Arkos citizens attempted to continue their daily lives. 

“There is much to do, child. I require you to rise.” The God Emperor swept his hand towards the busy population, legionaries and Arkos citizens going about their separate existences. “This land, its people, its cities, its kingdoms, all shall bow to you in time. They shall look to you for guidance. They shall become your responsibility.” 

Cliax looked at the population, seeing common citizens beneath the mercy of the legion. He watched a human push an Arkos woman for daring to glare at him, sending the vase of water she carried crashing to the ground. “All?” 

Dominax nodded. “Seize your sorrow and forge it into purpose. This world is flawed, yet we are the few capable of correcting it.” 

The prince watched the woman despair at the broken vase. No doubt she’d have to cross the city once more to collect more water. “H…how, grandfather?” 

“By living, as your grandmother would want you to do.” The God Emperor reached down to seize the boy’s arms, his glowing gaze burning. “Honor her legacy, and that of Lord Clin. Become the man your father would’ve been proud of.” He released him and rose to his full height, his crown looming high above the prince. “Become the Vaid I demand you to be.” 

As Cliax glanced at the conquered population, he thought of Lord Clin. His father had been a good man, it was true. Perhaps, if it was possible to live, to claw his way back to life, he could be just as good. 

At long last, the golden prince nodded, daring to taste the smallest hint of hope. “I…I can try.”

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