Khepri sighed as she remembered the first of Aten's tasks. The purpose of the Keetone venom being harvested under normal circumstances was a rite of passage for all warriors once they came of age; the venom, mixed with various herbs and the Aqqa from a Keeetone, became the substance known to Khepri's people Keevenk. The permanent marking, visible to all others, on their skin set them apart in terms of prestige. A Werewolf warrior's 'Dermin' was a badge of honor, an integral part of their identity, and a visible, silent proclamation of status within the Pack.

The successful harvesting of Keetone venom by a warrior using their strength and wit alone in the Desert Rodeo was a happy occasion. A grand feast and celebration usually immediately followed, in which the warrior's ascension into maturity was celebrated. During this celebration, the Werewolf at the center of it all, would become a fully fledged member of the Royal Household and receive all honors due to the warrior caste. This group had come to be known as Izfetai to the beings that inhabited the Scorch, and were frequently called upon to help settle disputes as the favored of the Maharani. All who knew the warrior would praise him or her for their journey that had begun as a cub.

Celebrated was the ability to survive in the harsh landscape and not succumb to the stressors it put on ones life as lesser beings were known to do. Celebrated was the determination to master various forms of combat and subterfuge, for the versatility needed to be able to slink in the shadows unnoticed and gather knowledge, yet also overpower an enemy with or without weapons was critical to their plan of Retribution.

All the struggles fought for survival and the ability to prosper even in the harshest of environments was something all respected. Those Werewolves who were reared as warriors had a harsher deal than their simple soldier counterparts; from their early childhood, every interaction with their instructors and trainers was meant to completely tear down who nature would have them become, and mold them into the Maharani's fiercest defenders and fighters. Absolute loyalty was demanded, and those who wavered would simply disappear.

Celebrated most of all was the resilience of the warriors who had endured a harsh upbringing full of pain, little to no praise, constant failure to live up to their instructors' expectations, hunger, exposure to the elements, and other discomforts. Only those who emerged stronger, forged from the flames of their own destruction, were worthy of receiving the Dermin. The venom ink was slowly punched into the skin of warriors with a small, needle like piece of obsidian with a bar approximately two fingers' width at the top that the Apephai, a shaman of sorts to the Werewolves, would tap with a small rock to pierce the skin and inject the ink.

Aten's harvesting of Keetone venom was a celebration of the death of the Human within him. It was not meant to be punctured into the skin, but consumed. The inside of the being wishing to harness the powers of the Maelstrom had to be purified through the Scalding. If the Werewolf failed to survive the ingestion of the venom, they were deemed unworthy by the Magic, and thus would be given the funeral reserved for Ferals. Their teeth would be filed down to look like those of Prey, and their remains would be placed in unmarked grave in shallow sands, where scavengers feasted freely. Their families would be shamed by their existence, and the Royal Household would never bestow favor upon them.

To the surprise of none, Aten thoroughly survived ingesting the Keetone's venom.

The Apkhonai, a group of Werewolves who were the equivalent of the Human shamans, had brought the ceremonial goblet forward and filled it with the Keetone's venom. Khepri herself had been the one to slice her own wrist and mix her royal blood in with the venom, for if the Werewolf survived its consumption, they would be unconditionally loyal to the interests and protection of the Maharani and the Heiress. Once the mixture had been stirred, a secret cocktail of herbs of varying properties that only the Apkhonai knew the recipe to, had been added before the goblet was passed on to the Werewolf undergoing the Scalding.

Aten had consumed the foul mixture in one deep gulp. The behemoth Werewolf hadn't gagged, or even shuddered as the potion went down his throat and into his stomach, he had simply shut his eyes and stood absolutely still as all who were witnessing watched with bated breath. There had been many Werewolves who had either volunteered for the suicide mission of becoming a Scalder, or who had been conscripted from the dens of families yet to prove their loyalties by Ajax and Khepri, that had fallen dead within mere moments of consuming the vile liquid.

Those who survived the beginning of the Scalding were left in a state of misery for weeks afterwards as the poison continued to cleanse the Human away and purify them from the inside out. The symptoms were very similar to a highly virulent strand of plague, in which the sufferer was unable to keep down food and liquids and found that Human blood was the only tolerable form of sustenance. The desert tribes had always offered up their old and sick for the Werewolves to feed upon when the need struck, but now found themselves called upon to offer even more of their people. Khepri and Ajax, fearing a mutiny, had allowed the leaders of the tribe to circulate among their people and cut the veins in their arms and drain the blood into goblets for the consumption of those who were becoming Scalders.

There was really no training to be had in order to become a Scalder; nothing that Khepri, Ajax, or any other instructor could train the Werewolf that had been Scalded to do, say, or think. The Maelstrom could only be called upon, channeled, and utilized once. The only trend that Khepri and Ajax noticed was that, when meditating, the Scalded one who could focus enough to lift themselves off of the ground and create a sand tornado beneath them tended to be more powerful than the ones who could only create a small flurry. The Magic spoke to the Scalded during their meditations, and those who experienced it were highly tight-lipped about what had been whispered to them. Becoming a Scalded Werewolf was the pinnacle of devotion to the Maharani and the cause of Retribution among her people, and those who chose to become a martyr for their race were both feared and adored.

The last rite that those who had been Scalded underwent was the part that Khepri hated the most. It was painful, bloody, and under normal circumstances, the absolute last thing any of her people would subject themselves to. In fact, most would rather die than to receive the Bite of the Dragon.

---

Aten followed Khepri and Ajax through the long, winding tunnel. They had ventured deep underground after departing the Maharani's company and found themselves in the Den of the Apkhonai. A table had been set up in the middle of the room, with only one chair placed at it. The chair had a high back and was made of wood, the only features notable about the piece of furniture was that there were straps on the arm rests and also on the two front legs of it, and there was also a piece at the top of the back part that appeared to serve the purpose of cradling one's head and was tilted slightly backwards. Scattered across the top of the table were various implements such as prongs, pliers, and thirty two pieces of tooth-shaped, white, bits of material.

At Khepri's direction, Aten seated himself in the chair. When the Apkhon present made a move to strap the Warden's arms to the chair, the Werewolf simply shook his head and clenched his hands over the ends of the arms. He refused to be rendered as helpless as prey, choosing instead to embrace the coming Rite of the Scalded of his own volition and on his own terms.

Khepri felt her stomach clench as her mother's bodyguard looked to her and nodded before tilting his head backwards and opening his mouth as widely as he could. The Apkhon attending the ritual placed a piece that served to spread his mouth open wider and keep it open on each side of Aten's mouth, chanting words in the ancient language of the Werewolves as he did so.

The Apkhon then methodically began to extract the wolf-like teeth from Aten's mouth. The pain was said to be unimaginable and unbearable to those who suffered it, but the Warden made no sound. He didn't flinch away as his teeth were removed one by one and blood poured from his mouth to drench his torso in red, he simply clenched his eyes shut and appeared to be asleep for all intents and purposes.

Khepri was nauseated by the sight before her. The Werewolf's teeth were rooted deep within his gums and measured an inch or two long by the time they were fully removed. The young Heiress couldn't even begin to imagine the immense pain that her mother's servant must be enduring, but he did so admirably. His devotion to his people and his Maharani was unparalleled by anything that she had ever before witnessed.

When the time came, Khepri stepped forward and grabbed a small knife from the top of the table. She made a slice on her left palm, and as she picked up the bits of white material from the table, she covered them in her own blood. The tooth-shaped items she picked up were actually teeth that had come straight from the mouth of a Dragon itself. The Magic called for the destruction of the Werewolf itself within the Scalded one, and the removal of the predator's teeth followed by the replacement of them with a Dragon's signified that end.

Aten would never again be able to call forth his wolf and Change until his final act of channeling the Maelstrom and turning himself into the whirlwind inferno that was a Scalder.

Khepri gritted her teeth and determinedly implanted the blood soaked Dragon's teeth within the raw, bleeding gums of the Maharani's most devoted bodyguard. She could feel the teeth slipping as she positioned them and both feel, and hear, the grinding of Aten's jawbone as she pounded them in with the small hammer that had also been on the table. Still, no sound was made by the one receiving her ministrations.

When it was through, Khepri quickly made her way to the surface to breath in the fresh air.

She vomited.