Page 55 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

Krogoth’s eyes never leave mine. “No,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “We freed our people.”

“Krogoth Star Eyes!” Xandor’s voice booms, his hands raised high above his head.

The crowd picks up the chant, their voices filled with awe and jubilation.

“Krogoth Star Eyes!”

“Okay, try to move the stone, Krogoth,” I request, holding the small object in my armored palm.

Krogoth, looking extra regal today on account of his big day, looks on with suspicion and a hint of amusement. “No, I remember this trick, Pebbles,” he protests, smiling.

To see the big guy healthy again and in such good humor warms my heart. “I promise not to move it.” I nod reassuringly, struggling to suppress a laugh at the memory from the last attempt. “Go on, give it a go.”

He frowns, fixing his gaze intently on the small stone as I delve into his mind, sensing his determination and joy mirrored back at me. I try to project myself into his consciousness, in the way I had done during the terrible Krak-Tok, but it feels like grasping at fragments of an indistinct dream.

Krogoth’s eyes blaze purple as wisps of color escape from their depths. He shakes with effort, his muscles taut and veins bulging from his neck, looking like he might explode at this rate. “It’s not working,” I declare with a sigh, dropping the black stone.

What are we missing?Krogoth scratches his head, a reflection of my puzzlement. “The Gods answered our prayers, when the need was greatest,” he offers, gazing toward the large purple sun and moon above.

“You’re probably right,” I agree, as I glance overhead, feeling reverence at the sight. The Gods had answered our prayers. I could almost feel them lingering within me, like traces of another being, during Krogoth’s desperate struggles. What form or nature they take I can only guess, but I believe they are watching over and guiding us.

“It would be nice if it didn’t require one of us being tortured, though,” I remark with a soft chuckle, surveying the vast forests of Draxxi as we stand atop the mountain, surrounded by the ancient ring of obsidian standing stones.

“True,” Krogoth concurs with a smile, flexing his newly healed hand. Images flood in my mind, remembering the awful aftermath of his battle with Gorexius. Half of his body was utterly smashed, with one lung collapsed. Even rushing him onto a glider, I wasn’t certain if he’d survive the journey to the healing pods in the Magaxus mountain. But thankfully, the Gods were kind.

His injuries were so severe it had taken him over a day of being suspended in the green healing mists to fully recover. Throughout the ordeal, I never left his side, vowing to never leave him ever again. Someone sensible has to keep an eye on the big guy to make sure he doesn’t go challenging the sun to a fistfight or something equally Krogoth-like.

Suddenly, two flying objects startle me into a fighting pose as I ready my spear, watching them like a hawk, my pulse racing. I take cover behind a massive boulder, preparing for a potential attack.Arrohawks?It could be anything up here, outside the hunter borders.

Krogoth chuckles, placing a large hand on my golden pauldrons, “Relax, my fierce huntress. It is just gliders,” he says, reassuring.

“Oh?” I peek out from behind my cover, observing the hovering gliders maneuvering to land on the peak of the mountain. Breathing a sigh of relief, I holster my spear, straightening myself. “You can never be too—”

“Careful,” Krogoth interrupts, predicting my words, causing us both to laugh.

“Well, you can’t!” I emphasize.

Krogoth leans down to rub his nose against mine, which both tickles and warms my heart with the silly sweetness of it. “You are wise, beyond your years, my little boulder-peeking Pebbles,” he smirks.

Why am I always something stone related?A question for another day. “We should go greet the delegates and get this over with,” Krogoth says with a sigh, looking towards the nearby peak.

He takes my hand in his as we travel along the rocky and grassy terrain. “Aren’t you excited?” I ask, curious.

Krogoth scoffs, “I’ll be excited once it’s over and I have you back in our bed.” He leers down at me playfully, sending a delightful shiver through my pleasantly aching womanhood. His lust for me is seemingly insatiable, but I’m more than up for the challenge.

We arrive at the peak to see the ancient ring of obsidian stones looming over the rocky mountains. I gasp at how much this place has changed since my last visit, with the huge brutonous nest and bodies seemingly cleared out at Krogoths command. He mentioned that this place had special significance being the ancient meeting place of the Clan Chieftains and how he wanted to renew the tradition.

“But you’ve earned this Krogoth, like my celebration from completing the Proving,” I express excitedly, hoping to infuse some meaning and joy into the occasion for him.

Krogoth nods thoughtfully. “That’s it, Pebbles. I’d rather celebrate this honor with you at my side, laughing with my war brothers in our hall, a horn in my hand,” he explains, nodding his head towards the elders awkwardly emerging from the gliders. “This is a thing born of obligation and bureaucracy.”

Glancing at the stern faces of the elders as they assemble around the standing stones, it’s hard not to agree with Krogoth. “I think we should do both.” I squeeze in tighter next to my man. “When we get back through the forests again,” I add, suppressing a flash of annoyance, realizing the elders can just fly wherever they please, while we must trek through the dangerous Draxxi forests for days.

“I would like that,” he says cheerfully, waving over to the elders as we draw closer. Still emerging from the gliders are unfamiliar yet wise faces, each one strangely garbed as different from each other as they are to us. Some with top knots, others with dusty complexions. Another few with tattooed faces denoting Magaxus, two others wearing sky blue have forked white beards.

A colorful and unique bunch. These must be the delegates from the other clans that Krogoth spoke of. People of high standing within their respective communities come in the absence of their chieftains, who are all busy leading their warriors on the front lines against the Nebians. A surprising sense of nervousness churns inside me as I observe their solemn expressions.

Until the friendly face of Harkus approaches, carrying a large object wrapped with soft purple velvet material. “Hail Chieftain and Chieftainess” He performs a swift bow before us. “Thank the Gods, you prevailed, Krogoth.” He glances away, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he whispers.

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