Page 49 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

Harkus nods solemnly as he steps out of my way. “So be it. May the Gods protect you, Krogoth.”

“And you old friend.” I clap him round the shoulder before taking Pebbles’ tiny hand and marching into the enormous chamber that looks every bit as imposing as before. The faint scent of scorching embers and incense linger in the air asburning braziers cast flickering shadows among the ancient stones.

Despite being here previously, it’s impossible not to feel the weight of history and the imposing aura press down upon you. Already my adrenaline is rumbling through my ears, my nervous anticipation heightened standing in the center of this ancient chamber. Pebbles leans in, pulling my hand for me to lower my head, “They are all terrified Krogoth, I’m surprised they can hide it,” she whispers in my ear.

“At least they’ve got us this far,” I whisper as the watchful and fidgety eyes stare down at us. Indeed, despite their obvious cowardice, I had to commend them. Not long ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed they could resist the War Chieftain in any capacity. Their trust in me has created an opportunity to change our fates. I need only seize it.

Vereth rises from his seat, a grave expression etched on his fate. “Hail Chieftain Krogoth and Chieftainess Rocks” He taps his wooden staff upon the stone floor, prompting the few elders engaged in conversations to stop. “The time we spoke off is now upon us.” His voice echoes around the chamber. “The War Chieftain Gorexius comes.” He points his staff at me. “He seeks you, Krogoth. I pray you have a plan.”

“Zyraxis, was right, we should have dealt with Krogoth when we had the chance—” Ignixis, the Magaxus Elder, shouts, his tattooed face wide eyed.

“Silence!” Vereth roars, striking his staff against the ancient floor. “I will not debate this matter again,” he says heatedly, his blue eyes glaring at Ignixis. “We must remain united if we are to mediate this gathering.”

“He’ll kill us all for this!” Ignixis cries out again, shaking his head frantically. “I’ll not be party to this any longer.” With that, he erupts from his hallowed seat and scurries down the steps, hispristine white robes fluttering in his haste as if a venefex is on his heels.

“Pah! Good riddance!” The venerable and ancient Nyxius calls out after Ignixis, as he escapes out a back room.

“Ignixis flees before even knowing the War Chieftain's intentions,” Harkus says, shaking his head. It’s strange to see my childhood teacher perched amongst the other elders, his face partially shrouded in robes and shadow.

“He shames himself and this Council,” Vereth says with a sigh. “But his punishment must wait,” he adds wearily, before shifting his attention to his wrist console. “Gorexius is here,” he says solemnly.

His words prompt Pebbles to squeeze my hand harder. I give her a reassuring look, despite my heart pounding in my chest, feeling like a lone stone about to be cast into a torrent of rolling magma. “You have my thanks, Elders,” I say before turning to face the enormous black and gold doors.

A resounding knock shatters the chamber’s uneasy silence, causing a ripple of unease among the Elders. Pebbles clutches onto my arm tighter, as my breathing increases rapidly.I must not show fear. He will not respect a timid challenge.

Meanwhile, two young Argorian female attendants rush to the doors, their tiny bodies struggling with effort, each tug bringing forth a painfully slow opening.

All eyes fixate on the opening expanse with bated breath until suddenly the doors burst open in an instant, the force sending the two Argorian females sprawling to the ground, groaning in pain.

In the doorway stands the molten mountain himself, War Chieftain Gorexius, flanked by his Second, Drexios, and a retinue of his elite Ravager Berserkers, tall and strong with hard eyes, their armor scarred by a hundred battles.

Gasps of shock echo through the chamber as Pebbles whispers, “Oh, my God,” her voice barely audible amidst the collective awe.

Gorexius looms as a giant, his already enormous frame bolstered by heavy, thick black arcweave armor trimmed with accents of blood-red ruby. His deep-set red eyes slowly scan over the room, his heavily scarred face giving no hint of his thoughts or emotions.

Pebbles leans closer, her voice a nervous whisper. “He feels amused, impatient, but also anxious.”Gorexius, anxious?

Drexios is the first to step forward as he sweeps his half cloak over his shoulder dramatically. He smiles cruelly at the two fallen Argorians, one red eye full of menace, the other mechanical. “Move whores,” he sneers as he marches past them.

“He is dangerous, Krogoth, full of hate, anger. There’s nothing else,” Pebbles murmurs, her voice laced with fear.No Gorexius is the unpredictable one. Drexios is a wild beast, lashing out.

Drexios advances, fists clenched, his long green hair shaved at the sides cascades down to his waist. The vicious sneer etched on his face twists the vertical scar over his eye. Pebbles flinches back as I tense, bracing for an attack until he halts, mere inches from my face. “The traitor, Krogoth!” He spits, peering up at me, daring me to attack him.

I’ve already switched my gaze back to Gorexius, observing him, as he slowly stalks into the room, appearing in no hurry, accustomed to others waiting at his command.

“Dragging us away from our war.... We should have annihilated you and your pathetic clan hall from orbit,” Drexios taunts, so close the heat of his breath grazes my skin, but I remain silent. “Your silence speaks loud and clear,” he growls, growing increasingly agitated. “Coward!” He shouts, lunging forward with a headbutt that I narrowly evade.

Pebbles yells and tries to shove Drexios, who doesn’t even notice lost in his manic laughter as he paces in a circle. “Krogoth, so quick, oh so deadly!” He jeers, extending his claws, their sharp edges glinting in the flickering light. “Fight me here, right now! Come on!” He challenges, his single eye misting, a promise of violence.

I glare at Drexios, my patience nearing its end. “I did not come here to spar with Gorexius’s mad pup.”

Drexios smirks, his tone surprisingly calm as he lowers his head threateningly. “No, you came here to die,” he whispers. “The only question is, who gets the kill?”

The rhythmic pounding of Vereth’s staff on the stone floor cuts through our tense exchange. “Cease this at once! Drexios, you offend the Gods by committing violence in this hallowed chamber,” Vereth’s voice booms, full of righteous anger.

Drexios claps mockingly. “Ah, the old fool with the big stick.” His voice lowers, glaring up at Vereth. “How about I commit more violence by shoving that staff up your ass?” He laughs, drawing laughter from some of the Ravager Berserkers who have taken up positions around the room, blocking all the exits.

Vereth interrupts their mocking laughter. “Enough!” he commands, his voice laced with authority.

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