"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.
