The sandstorm still raged around Aldrin, the ghouls including the Ghoul Baron, and the viper-headed chimera as they fought against the defensive Scarab Sons who went mute after Roar of the Apex ended. They didn’t lash out any longer with the advantage they had; they simply waited which alarmed Aldrin even further.

  One Scarab Son lunged forward with a thrust, hoping to pierce through Aldrin’s armor. He side stepped it and grabbed the wrist of the Scarab Son and yanked him out of their entrenchment, throwing him towards some ghouls that viciously attacked him by rending his armor to pieces. Aldrin paid no mind to the hungry growls behind him, focusing only on trying to break through their defensive line.

  “Aldrin. Problem.” Evie’s cut through.

  “How big?” Aldrin said in a short, clipped tone.

  “They got us surrounded,” Pierre’s voice came next.

  From Pierre’s statement, it all made sense. They had lured him and most of his forces away to battle only a small contingent of what made up the Scarab Sons. The realization seemed to have a spark on the Scarab Sons because they lashed out on the offensive. Flicking their short swords through the gaps of their shield wall while taking a step forward. The sandstorm that surrounded them only increased in fervor, nearly blinding Aldrin’s predator vision; a feat he didn’t think would be possible.

  “Aldrin! Behind us!” He heard Jared’s voice cut through the raging sandstorm.

  Hearing Jared’s panic, Aldrin kicked and planted his foot on the shield of the nearest Scarab Son, using the sturdiness to bounce off. He shifted into his fog form when his sense sphere from his Vampiric Awareness alerted him to crossbow bolts racing ?through the air to pierce him. He didn’t account for a slight sting to happen when they broke through his fog form, leaving a lingering numbness that caused him to lose focus over his form as he blurred between his physical and fog.

  Within his sense sphere, he felt a second volley racing towards him. With the numbness, he couldn’t shift, and the bolts pierced through his calf, thigh, underneath a rib, his forearm, and his shoulder. One even grazed his cheek, leaving a stinging cut as the pain and numbness overwhelmed him, causing him to crash to the ground.

  The shadow tendrils of Delena’s Veil reached upwards to soften his fall but were no use as the Scarab Sons, with their blades of light, went to work cutting down the shadow tendrils at the base of their stalks. The tendrils disintegrated as Aldrin continued to fall until he landed with a hard thump that cracked the cobblestone road. He groaned in pain, not from the fall but from the numbness of the bolts that were lodged in his body.

  In the corner of his vision, his system alert blared, but he chose to ignore it. Even through his blurred vision, he saw the Scarab Sons surround him with their glowing swords pointed at him, ready to pin him to the ground.

  “Jared! Get out of here! Take as many as you can!” Aldrin said within the Servant Bond.

  “I can’t! They have us pinned already!” Jared fired back, his mind more focused on defending himself than anything.

  The Scarab Sons took a step back, making room for another lookalike. This time, the Scarab Son passed his sword and shield to another behind him and removed his helmet. Brown eyes that matched ?his skin greeted Aldrin. Long, twisted black dreadlocks with beads threaded through unfurled, whipping in the magical breeze of the dying sandstorm. His face was that of a weathered veteran who had seen countless battles, and yet when he gazed down at Aldrin, it seemed to harden even further as if he was carved from stone.

  “Khal Emir Edran wishes to speak with you,” he spat, offering no room for argument. “Your allies have been captured and detained, as you will be. If you seek an alternative, which is fighting back, then you will be eviscerated immediately. Understand, parasite?”

  Aldrin looked at the man before he nodded to one of the other Scarab Sons, and the man slashed with his sword, sending another searing pain of numbness through Aldrin’s arm. “I said, Do. You. Understand?” The helmetless Scarab Son asked.

  Aldrin could only nod at the words, and the helmetless Scarab Son nodded back before putting his helmet back on. Wordlessly, they made room for another Scarab Son to step forth carrying a black sack Aldrin knew all too well from his time scouting out the slavers of Lor-Vold. He knelt, and the others readied themselves to strike in case Aldrin got any ideas of fighting back, but he let the Scarab Son put the sack over his head, cutting off his senses of sight, smell, and hearing. Aldrin could still feel however, as he was roughly jerked up and held firmly on both his arms. He could also feel a slight burning sensation at the base of his neck, more than likely from one of their swords that still hummed with whatever skill they used.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Aldrin didn’t know how long they walked ?nor where they were until he could feel himself walk across a gangplank when the vibration of cracking wood erupted beneath his feet. He was then taken deeper into the bowels of the ship, where he was roughly thrown in, barely catching himself from falling forward. The black sack was removed, and a bright light blinded him before his vision adjusted.

  “Welcome, Lord Progenitor,” an aged and wizened voice warmly greeted Aldrin. “I have been expecting you for quite some time, and yet I am hurt you did not come to me first.”

  Aldrin? quickly scanned the room, seeing trophies of beast skulls adorned around the ceiling of the room. A glass weapon rack on his right that sat just below a porthole. Tapestries of a Golden Scarab adorned the wall behind the man who sat in a modestly plain wooden chair. In front of the man was a large round table that was carved with the map of the world. In the corners of the room sat small, anchored, three-pronged chandeliers that gave the room a warm lighting that only enhanced the glare from the polished wooden walls.

  His eyes snapped back to the man, who held the same deep brown eyes and skin to match as the man who had spoken to him before he was captured. Only this time, the man’s dreadlocks were greyish-white, much shorter and lacking the beaded threads through his hair.

  “Khal Emir Edran, I assume?” Aldrin cautiously asked.

  Emir nodded. “Precisely, and you are..? Besides Lord Progenitor, of course?” he asked with a disarming smile.

  Aldrin set his jaw. “You had your people capture me. Why should I tell you?”

  Emir chuckled and waved his hand. “That is why. Because I captured you and instead of treating you like a prisoner; I am treating you like a guest more accustomed to your kind.”

  Aldrin? narrowed his eyes and he crossed his arms. “What do you know of my kind?”

  Emir waggled a finger and clicked his tongue. “Name first, boy.” He glared at Aldrin, his earlier friendly demeanor vanishing like smoke.

  “Aldrin,” he introduced himself.

  Emir raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

  “Ravindra,” Aldrin said through gritted teeth, and Emir sat back in his chair with a wide smile.

  Emir held the silence for a while longer before letting out a booming laugh that had him clapping his hands. “Now there is a name I haven’t heard in a long time. You look just like your father.” Emir said with a sly grin that formed after his laughter died down.

  The mention of his father set Aldrin’s teeth on edge as he felt his fangs growing and his claws extending from his fingertips, ready to rip into the man in front of him.

  Emir calmly stared at Aldrin, still with the same sly smile, before shaking his head. “Hot tempered like your mother too, I see.”

  “How do you know my parents?” Aldrin asked, revealing his fangs a little bit more.

  “They helped found the Scarab Sons before the Scarab Sons were even a thought,” Emir admitted, then gestured to the seat across from him. “Grab a seat and we can swap questions and answers. Deal?”

  Aldrin stared at the seat like it was poison, but the lure of Emir tangling answers before him won out as he took the offered seat, earning a wide grin from Emir. “My friends and allies first?” he asked, more concerned that he couldn’t communicate with them through the Servant Bond.

  Emir dipped his head in respect. “You still retain your humanity. Good. I would be worried if you hadn’t. Your friends are fine, being treated with respect although what happens to them also depends on how this conversation goes between you and I. Your allies are also subdued for the time being. Your ghouls, a rather nasty bunch, might I add, gave my men some trouble but managed to wrangle them.” He said, then waved his hand, making two wine glasses appear along with a dusty bottle that had seen better days.

  Aldrin watched Emir pour the liquid, which turned out to be amber colored, into the wine glasses. He held out one for Aldrin to take. “In my culture, we drink as a formal greeting before engaging in debates.”

  Aldrin took the glass gingerly, watching Emir raise it to his lips before taking a long sip and letting out a satisfying sigh afterwards. Afterwards, he patiently waited for Aldrin to take a sip of his own. “You know I can’t taste normal things,” Aldrin informed him.

  Emir waved him off once more. “I know, but it's the principle, boy.”

  Aldrin nodded sharply before taking a long sip of the tasteless wine. “Now what?” he asked after placing the glass down on the wooden border edging of the carved map that sat between them.

  Emir clapped once, crossed his legs and folded his arms over the table. “Now we begin. A question, an answer, repeating in turns,” he smiled slyly.

  The Veil gangs, shifting towards politics rather than outright brawls.