The air in the chamber was thick with the sterile, sharp scent of chemicals and the low, frantic murmuring of the man at the table. Vane's back was turned, his shadow dancing erratically against the stone walls as he clinked glass tubes together, his fingers stained a deep, bruised purple from the liquids he handled.
Asarmose leaned his head as far toward Alistair as the high-backed chair would allow. "Do you know him?" he whispered, his voice a mere thread of sound beneath the bubbling of the vials.
Alistair's eyes didn't leave the scholar. He watched the way the man's shoulders hunched with a calm, obsessive energy. "I heard of a young scholar who was picked up by one of the council members," Alistair breathed back, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "A man named Vane. He was supposed to be a prodigy in the medical arts, focusing on the preservation of life. It seems he's moved on to more... industrious pursuits."
Alistair's gaze sharpened, tracking Vane as the man picked up a syringe and held it to the light.
The King's jaw set.
Even without his crown, Alistair looked at the scholar not as a prisoner, but as a judge observing a traitor.
"Vane," Alistair muttered, the name sounding like a curse. "He was a name whispered in the palace archives—a brilliant mind with no moral compass. I was told he died in a laboratory accident years ago."
"Evidently," Asarmose murmured, his eyes tracking the strange violet liquid in the tubes, "the reports of his death were as fabricated as the peace in your kingdom."
Vane suddenly spun around, his spectacles sliding down his nose. He didn't seem to hear the specifics of their conversation, but he sensed the shift in the air. He looked at Alistair with a hungry, clinical curiosity."Another 'Alpha' specimen" Vane chirped, his voice high-pitched and hollow. "And a talkative one at that. You have a lot of spirit for a laborer."
"We shall see how much of that 'spirit' remains once the serum begins to settle the ego."
Alistair stared back, his expression one of bored, surly defiance. "You can try, Scholar. But I've got a thick skull. Might take more than a few drops of swamp water to quiet me."
Vane chuckled—a dry, rattling sound. "Oh, it isn't swamp water. It's the future."He turned his attention back to his tray, selecting a long, shimmering needle. Asarmose caught Alistair's eye. There was no fear in the Prince—only that slow, terrifying smile from the ridge, a look that promised a very different kind of "fun" was about to begin."Trust me," Asarmose mouthed silently.
The words were a ghost of a breath, but they hit Alistair with the force of an oath. The King went still, his muscles coiled like a spring, watching as Vane stepped closer with the shimmering needle.The scholar's hand was stray, his eyes sharp with a clinical clarity. "The perfect specimen," Vane whispered, the needle inches from the Prince's neck.
Asarmose didn't flinch.
He didn't even blink.
He simply stared at Vane with those fascinating hazel eyes—eyes that seemed to pull the very light out of the room.
"Vane," Asarmose said, his voice dropping into a register that made the glass tubes on the table hum. "You've spent so much time studying the 'specimens' that you've forgotten what a predator sounds like when it's invited you into its den."
Vane froze. "What... what are you—"
Instead of speaking, Asarmose simply released his pheromones.It wasn't a scent; it was an atmospheric shift. In an instant, the putrid, rot-filled smell of the scent-blocker they had swallowed was incinerated, replaced by a presence so heavy it felt like the air had turned to liquid iron and ancient incense. It was a thick, golden weight of frankincense and ozone—the signature of a being that had never known a master.
This wasn't healing. It was pure, unadulterated Divinity.
The power of it hit Vane like a physical blow. The scholar's lungs seized as he tried to breathe in air that now felt far too holy for his chest. He collapsed to his knees, his spectacles clattering to the floor as his body instinctively buckled under the weight of the Prince's sovereignty.
Through the stone walls, the pheromones bled out into the camp like a shockwave. In the sorting sheds, the "soulless" Omegas and Betas suddenly gasped in unison. The divine scent acted like a lightning rod, striking their dormant minds and scorching away the chemical fog of the violet serum.
A collective, guttural roar erupted from the valley—a sound of a thousand people waking up to their own humanity.
"Now, Alistair," Asarmose said, his black eyes fixed on the trembling scholar. "Break the chair. I believe you've had enough of sitting still."Alistair didn't need a second command. The "Kael" persona shattered. He let out a low, predatory growl, his massive frame expanding until the leather straps groaned and snapped like dry thread.
CRACK.
The heavy oak wood of the chair splintered. Alistair stood up, a soot-covered god of war, and reached down to grab Vane by the throat, hoisting him off the ground with one hand.
Asarmose watched from his own chair, a slow, terrifying smile creeping across his face as he looked at the chaos he had ignited. "This will be fun," he whispered.
Alistair didn't waste a single motion. With a violent jerk, he tore a thick strip of fabric from Vane's fine scholar's robes. He ignored the man's whimpers, binding his hands behind his back with a series of brutal, efficient knots that bit deep into the skin.
Leaving Vane slumped on the floor, Alistair turned to Asarmose. He ripped the leather restraints from the Prince's wrists as if they were made of paper. The moment he was free, Asarmose stood, smoothing his tattered tunic with a chillingly calm hand.
Alistair paused.
He looked at Asarmose, really looked at him, and saw that slow, terrifying smile still etched on the Prince's face. His eyes darkened, black eyes that were cold, reflecting the flickering torchlight like dark glass.
Alistair reached down and hauled the bound Vane up with one hand, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Asarmose stepped toward the heavy iron doors of the Black Barrack and pushed them open.