Draegos-Prime

"I am changing."

The Drakul-Prime's deep commanding voice resounded through the cavernous room, echoing from the arched stone frame. His massive, indomitable back faced his blood-brother as he stood contemplating the moonless night.

Thick muscles wrapped around long, solid legs as if chiseled from onyx. His biceps bulged with killing strength, honed from hundreds of years of ruthless fighting. Draegos-Prime was the epitome of power. Supreme. Invincible.

He was the most feared of all Drakuls, revered for both his battle strength and his cunning. He had survived thousands of years of unmated hardships, a feat unheard of for their kind. Most had the endurance to last a few centuries before seeking their death or succumbing to the change.

Draegos had learned disastrously the terror and chaos one altered Drakul warrior could wreck in a short span if allowed to live. He had been merciful to his twin, Drae, who had chosen the latter Drakonian decree, living the gluttonous and destructive life of a Nyt. A decision that Draegos regretted to this day.

Drae had decimated nearly half of their population, starting with their parents, in his obsession to control life on the Drakian planet. One by one, he began to wipe out the elders and continued his assault on the women. Drae sought to make sure the ancient teachings of Drakian discipline was annihilated so his influence over the younger was absolute. It became evident that Draegos would be forced to pursue his twin and destroy him.

The blood-bond battle was etched into all Drakuls' mind because it was testament to their belief -- only the strongest of their kind could survive such horrific actions. To the Drakuls, family meant everything. The bond was so tightly woven that to seek death for one was suicide.

Unfortunately, Drae's reign of terror did not end with his death. His harem had grown so wide it took a century to contain his plague. The bitter experience gave Draegos enormous strength but also struck at the heart of Drakian belief: killing his twin had damned his soul. It was a burden Draegos would carry for eternity.

It made him the warrior to who all feared.

Draegos held no mercy for those who chose the easier path. He had sacrificed too much and lost too many friends and family to relax in his vigil.

Draekus worried in silence, his eyes burning with a thousand questions at his brother's back. It was impossible to read Draegos unless he chose to reveal himself. Unthinkable since Draegos had never let down his guard...Except now.

Draekus fingered the bald ridge of his brow, a bad habit he had when he was troubled about something. Just minutes before, his daughter's urgent projection had him racing to her side. He found her shaken up but not physically hurt. Her terrified mind-voice showed him all: Draegos, the dark void of his eyes staring right at him, blood beading over his forehead like sweat, his lips tight and grim.

When Draekus appeared in his brother's rooms, it seemed eerily calm. Draegos was staring out into the night sky in deadly silence. He knew Draegos was aware of his presence -- nothing ever took his brother by surprise -- and yet he said nothing, stretching the silence like a yawning chasm between them. Everything inside him froze at that moment as he sensed a slight discrepancy in the air. By the Drakians! Draekus felt a shift in the balance of their kind like a tiny pebble tossed into the watery depths of the Fiery Sea of Planet Kruel.

When Draegos spoke it came with the authority of knowledge. He continued onward as if he hadn't blasted Draekus with Obsidian.

"I am glad you have found your one-mate," Draegos stated and turned towards his brother.

Draekus was alarmed at what he saw. A wide streak of white marred the perfectly pitch-black hair, standing out sharply like a blade of moon-grass. He made a move towards his brother but Draegos held up his palms. There wasn't much to say. It was obvious that he would not last the next mating season.

Draekus had known this day would come but was still caught unguarded. His brother was The Prime. No one could replace him. This would devastate the morale of the unmated warriors. Because as long as Draegos held out, there was hope. He wanted to push his brother to fight the urge, but the weariness in Draegos' eyes kept him silent.

"All life comes to an end, blood of my father. Even the mightiest." For the first time, Draekus saw the brother through the warrior. The emotions of his long life were written there for him to see: deep sadness, pride, and regret.

"You of all deserved the one-mate," Draekus replied.

There was a long pause as Draegos contemplated him, then shook his head as though answering his silent plea. "There is no soul born now or in the future that can make me whole. I sacrificed my right to peace long ago."

"No, I cannot believe that. There is one for you my Prime--"

Draegos held up his hand silencing Draekus. "It is our law. I will not risk dishonoring our house by remaining."

"You have more power than all Drakuls put together, Draegos-Prime. By the Drakians! You can fight it!"

"You know not of what you ask." Draegos moved like a caged beast. "I am too dangerous."

"Nyts have their weaknesses."

"And you have yours. You cannot kill me, Draekus. Your heart forbids it. And I am selfish...I do not want that knowledge for you. Because it will change who you are."

There was too much wisdom and pride in Draegos' obsidian eyes; they were deep and bottomless. Draekus knew his brother spoke the truth, but it didn't make it any easier for him to swallow.

"Send the signals to all the warriors. I will make my announcement to the council tomorrow at first light."

Draekus frowned to hear the finality in Draegos' deep strong voice. For centuries, he had taken for granted that Draegos was indestructible.

There was a momentary pause before Draekus spoke. "Peace upon your rest, blood of my father," Draekus said in defeat and turned away from his brother as though the weight of their planet was on his broad shoulders.

* * * * * His word was law. By tomorrow it would be over.

Draegos watched his brother with remorse; he could not help him through the pain of loss, but he could leave with honor. It was all he had. "Peace upon our house, Draekus," he projected.

He had come full circle; even he could not escape his decree. It would come down to death by choice. His only regret was that he would never feel the peace Draekus and his father and next-father had found with their one-mate. The day his blood-brother merged with his one-mate he felt the unease hidden deep within his mind relaxed. It was like coming up for air after a plunge in the watery abyss of the Fiery Sea. He did not want to see another blood-brother turning. It would destroy him to kill another blood-kin.

But the urge for the change had become too strong, and continued to grow daily. It no longer peaked during the mating period.

Little did Draekus know that his newly found peace and happiness with his one-mate stirred Draegos' hunger for that eternal bliss. By the Drakians! It was all he could think about! He coveted it. He wanted it. His fortitude was wearing thin, making him very dangerous -- a female scent, an impartial gaze, a soft wispy laughter -- that was all it took to make his skin grow tight, and his concentration would falter with thoughts of moist female flesh squeezing around his erection. He could feel the animal in him trying to crawl out. When the irritation became too great, Draegos could feel the rumbles in his chest draw out in frustrated growls. It was too wild to contain.

He didn't expect the need to be so strong, the lure so potent. He itched constantly to pound his cock into any available female, desperate to release his pent-up lust. Draegos laughed with bitter irony -- the centuries he ruled with only thoughts of right and wrong, life and death -- he had no understanding then. Faced now with this enormous challenge, he came to acknowledge how his twin had been able to succumb so easily to the change.

Draegos ran battle-hardened hands through his hair with the anxiety he hid from his brother. He was closer to the change than he let his brother on. Indeed, he came near to attacking his niece this night. It was the most intense moment of his long life.

Dari had come to escort him to their evening meals as was her usual habit, laughing and sharing her day with him. Only his attention wasn't on the contents of her innocent chatter; his entire being was consumed by a surge of carnal heat and he could feel himself wallowing in the delicious, intoxicating red haze of lust. Only by the strength of his will was he able to pull back. Beads of sweat appeared on his face -- a shockingly foreign occurrence -- made him stop suddenly in his tracks. His abrupt detachment drew Dari's notice and she turned up her lovely young face in question.

Her terrified expression would be carved into his mind forever.

He had dragged a finger to his forehead and came back with blood, the entire time his eyes recorded her every move. Thank the Drakians she did not glean his thoughts then. She would have run for her life instead of to his aid.

The minute she reached for him, he stopped her with the force of his mind and commanded her to leave. Immediately. He had the change under control by the thinnest of threads.

Through discipline and perseverance, he was able to still the raging beast clawing savagely through his body. He defeated the urge but the strain of his battle had left a permanent mark on him: a section of his hair had turned pure white. He knew then time had run out for him. He must abide by their law or risk death to all life-forms.

His regret churned his stomach sour, an acid burning a hole through his very being. He felt vile for the unsavory thoughts of his niece, the actions he nearly took. It tore at him. He wanted to cut off his arms right then. Inflict some form of pain as penance for his sins. His skin crawled with self-disgust like hungry Krats searching for a vein, irritating him to a point where he could not breathe. He couldn't stand another minute in the compound.

Draegos leaped from his chambers, landing on the dirt ten floors down, sending earth-trembles for miles. He inhaled the fresh scent of the crisp night air into his burning lungs. His hands fisted the dirt and he closed his eyes trying to regain his balance, to find restraint. Then with a burst of power sky-rocketed into the atmosphere. He stopped at twenty thousand feet, his eyes roaming with distaste over his host planet Kruel. By the Drakians! Now was not the time to leave his people. Too much was at stake!