Khepri's eyes, as her teeth sunk into the flesh of the Sands Reaper, clouded over disturbingly as his blood entered her mouth. The peculiar saliva of a Werewolf not intending to Change or kill the being bitten quickly numbed the searing pain of her sharp teeth biting through his flesh and nearly clamping together. As the Verheiin attempted to pull away from her and met her gaze, it was suddenly if her irises had a layer of cactus milk covering them, so scarcely could they be discerned.

For her part, Khepri was sorting through all memories of his mother, Cress, and his entering of the world in an attempt to decide what was too much to show him and what was not enough. She had to protect the secrets of her people, the ones so closely guarded that any who came across knowledge were quietly disposed by the Maharani's official assassin. The terrorizing figure was a whispered legend amongst the Pack, used to threaten unruly cubs and known only as Hashzi. The mythical entity was actually quite real, a secret known only to the Maharanis and their Heiresses. The role was typically occupied by the eldest son of the blood relative born closest in time to the next Maharani. Officially, the babe 'was born still' and a ceremony to lament the loss of a future warrior was held for the rest of the Pack.

In scant moments that seemed to last an eternity, Khepri settled on what she wished to show him. The Verheiin ceased his increasingly wild struggles as her memories, now images began to play before his eyes. So vivid that he felt as if he were there, hovering above and silently observing it all.

The young Werewolf cub was running for her life. The infantile Werewolf had no way of fully comprehending the passage of time, her instincts and the guidance of her father were all that she understood. The moon had risen and set many times since she had initially fled the Human Queen's castle, Nazra was vast. She dozed when she found suitable hiding spots during the day, and felt somewhat safer in her travels beneath the soft glow of the moon. She also felt much more secure in her hunts. The sun had become her enemy, for it was then that the Humans felt most comfortable. The rabble had grown bold beneath the protective cloak of power their Queen now donned.

Human villages, near known Werewolf settlements had risen in revolt with the delivery of news and weapons by the Queen's soldiers. Where once these Humans had paid homage to their predators, served them, and satiated their hunger, they now sought to avenge themselves and the generations before them. No Werewolf settlement within an immediate vicinity of a Human village was safe from being invaded beneath the warm rays of the sun. The Humans came to them with violence and hatred. Yet, somehow, the violence was nowhere near severe as it could have been. The Humans seemed to be much more intent on driving their oppressors away and injuring them, permanently if possible, than they did killing them.

Her father's voice was ever in her mind, always urging her forward and reminding her to not look back. The Human Queen had known of her existence and would undoubtedly be eagerly searching for a highly valuable hostage. His presence in her mind served as a balm for her terror, the happenings were still beyond her ability to comprehend.

Sheer instinct reminded her that now was the time for flight and not fight. Her father's voice was joined by that of her brothers in her mind, vowing that one day her people would bring to the Humans' doorstep a Retribution so severely thorough that they would never be able to pick themselves back up from the dirt. They would once again be prey, this abomination to the natural order would somehow be undone. The assassination of a Werewolf Queen beneath a deceiving guise of peace was unforgivable. She would someday be avenged.

The cub's small paws suddenly skidded to a stop within the grass of the forest she was cutting through. A small muzzle rose into the air and tiny nostrils took a delicate whiff in an attempt to pinpoint what had suddenly halted her. She snuffed the air again, whining and rubbing her nose with one of her paws as her father explained to her what the scent was. It was metallic, yet sickly sweet at the same time. The scent was enough to make her delicate nose slightly ache, and she let out a sneeze.

Blood. Human blood. A pregnant female.

The cub continued snuffing the air to follow the scent. A brief flash of memory within her mind's eye showed a pregnant female fleeing the Bitch Queen. The female was injured, weeping, and terrorized... Yet one of her hands was constantly, protectively, over her womb. She was near her time, the cub could smell the hormones of a pregnancy nearing its end. Something inside her was surprised that the life within her had not yet come forth in response to its mother's fear and stress. Maybe the Human infant was subconsciously more intelligent than her species gave it credit for - mortality upon leaving the protection of its mother's womb was almost guaranteed. The internal tie between mother and babe remained steadfast, and the tiny life within the Human woman made no signs of greeting the outside world just yet.

She took off at a trot towards the scent of the blood, trying to find the woman before another being more hostile than she could. She was aware of the presence of her father and brothers strengthening in her mind, they were rapidly moving towards her. They brought more guards to protect her, were staunchly determined that she reach sanctuary alive and whole... She was the last of her mother's line. The new Queen of the Werewolves was a mere infant in the eyes of all, yet she would be protected at all costs. She may have lost her mother but she did still have her father, her brothers, and her Pack. She would come to know and love her mother through their memories, and she would know the serene comfort one receives from knowing that they are loved and valued.

The Human woman was laying in the midst of a dense thicket. She'd had the sense of mind to attempt to conceal herself from potential predators by scrambling within. The action caused many more small cuts on her body, but they went unnoticed as exhaustion and blood loss sent her into unconsciousness. She'd had no other choice but to stop, her mind and body demanded the healing that even a short rest would bring, and the life inside her made the call impossible to refuse.

The cub slowly approached the sleeping woman. Predatory instinct informed her that the woman was in a state beyond the blanket of sleep, her mind had mercifully and temporarily cast itself into the oblivion of unconsciousness. There was no telling exactly when she would awaken, or what she remembered. The mind was capable of great and mysterious things when it came to the preservation of sanity.

The small nose snuffed the woman's hair. It smelled sweet, like freshly bloomed lilacs in the spring. It wasn't the scent of an enemy... yet it wasn't quite the scent of prey either. It was in between; something that a wolf might investigate in nature and choose not to attack. The cub's mind sensed a kindred spirit for this creature who was engaged in his own battle for survival.

The cub sniffed the Human woman more, gently licking the blood from the various wounds dotting her face, chest, and arms. Her blood was too sweet for consumption... the cub was almost repulsed, yet her need to help the woman overriding her senses. She couldn't find any major injuries, she must be hurt on the inside. The cub kept sniffing its way to her swollen belly, quietly yelping when the babe within suddenly kicked the spot directly where her nose was. She continued her search for injury, whimpering as she noticed a small trail of blood that originated between the woman's thighs.

The blood emerging from the woman's most private places most definitely did not smell sweet. In fact, its scent was rank with corruption... the blood was not Human at all. It was something different, something foreign to both her and her people, and her instincts urged her to flee. She should leave the woman to her fate - the Humans were now the mortal enemies of Werewolves, Vampires, and Dragons alike. She was utterly alone, and if one predator failed to find and kill her, surely another would do so in its stead. The cub was sure that the Bitch Queen would be looking for this pale woman also. She was doomed, just as the cub was supposed to be. She would be lucky to live through the night descending upon them... It was the natural order. Only the strongest survive, and this Human female had quite thoroughly been rendered weak. Insignificant in the grand scheme of it all.

But something about this woman and the life she carried within her called to her on a visceral level. She and the life residing in her womb must be protected, hidden away, far away from the sinister clutches of the Bitch Queen. The one who had betrayed them all, even her own people, and forsaken them to her lust for power. In one fell swoop, she had altered the entire food chain and toppled the balance of power. In that one moment, she had sealed the fate of them all and ruined innumerable lives. Her actions would not be without consequence... her people would deny the Human Queen this last piece of her ritual. They would shelter it, care for it, protect it with their lives if need be. The Human Queen must never be permitted to possess this very last piece of her puzzle - it could very well be the utter ruination of all species nonhuman if she were to get her traitorous fingers on them.

The cub whined and nudged the woman's swollen belly with her nose again, anxiously making sure that the life within her had not extinguished upon another gush of corrupted blood. She was rewarded with another kick, and with the innocence possessed only by babes, gently licked the flesh of the woman's stomach in a gentle caress.

The cub backed away a few paces and lifted her head towards the sky, letting out an eery, mournful howl as the moon above blessed her with its light. Now, even with almost an entire species on the run and fleeing the mainland, the Humans were still intimidated by the thought of driving the Werewolves out during the darkest hours of the night. Regardless of the lethal silver and Alabastar weapons they had managed to get their filthy, unworthy hands on, Werewolves were still formidable opponents. Especially during the night and with a moon almost at the peak of its cycle, blessing the beasts within with its power. No Human in his or her right mind would brave fighting one when the moon was full, especially not when they could hear the blood-lust in their howls.

The small cub sat on its haunches by the Human female. She was a silent sentinel as she awaited the answer of her call. She did not have to wait long.

Her father emerged in full Changed form from the trees, yet was walking upright as men do. Thick fur coated his entire body, and gleaming diamond claws were at the end of each finger. His mouth was dripping saliva as he raised his upper lip in a snarl against the stench of the woman's womb-blood, his diamond fangs gleaming in the moonlight. The scent both repulsed him and struck fear within him. Did this unknown have the potential to hurt or even kill all of them?

The Warlord of the Werewolves, mate to the Pack's deceased Queen, looked toward his baby daughter for guidance. Werewolf law was both clear and firm: Regardless of her age, the next Queen assumed power the moment her mother breathed her last. Her wishes would always be honored, and her commands would be obeyed without question.

The cub nudged the Human woman onto her back, whimpering and wagging her tail as her three elder brothers approached as well. They were soon followed by a party of warriors. Soon, all predators present formed a protective circle around their Queen and the Human woman she had chosen to not only spare, but to protect.

The cub Queen couldn't convey her wishes with words in the telepathic communication all Werewolves were capable of, but she could show them images of her intentions as she searched their minds for the information she sought. A Werewolf Queen, no matter her age, was able to draw upon the memories and wisdom possessed by others of her race at will and use said memories for the betterment of her rule. Werewolf Queens were considered to be amongst the wisest of all beings, all-knowing and able to learn from the mistakes of the past - spared the woe of repeating it.

The particular image she chose showed two of her brothers. Both were facing the same direction, with one approximately five feet behind the other. On each of their shoulders was a sturdy branch; the one on the right shoulder of the brother in front reached back to the same shoulder of the brother behind, same for the left. Between the two branches, the fabric of the woman's skirts had been rent into strips and tied each branch to the other at equal intervals, creating a bridge. Large leaves, blades of grass and other forest materials were then woven together and laid over the strips of fabric. This reinforced the contraption and so long as weight was distributed evenly, it could bear much. It was thus that she intended the Human female to travel with them. It was how they would deliver the woman and the life within her from the clutches of their enemies.

The Werewolves immediately sought to do their Queen's bidding. With many helping hands, the stretcher was soon fabricated and the cub's father himself gently hoisted the limp woman off the ground before laying her upon it. Her brothers grasped the branches at each end in either hand, slowly lifting their burden onto their shoulders.

The Queen of Werewolves snuffed happily and wagged her tail at the success. She was soon chirping when she was suddenly lifted into the air and held against a firm, furry chest.

Her father. The one male who would lay down his life for her without thought and protect her more fiercely than any other. Encased in the circle of his arms, the Werewolf Queen was enveloped in the warm glow of the love a father holds for his daughter.

She snuggled tightly against him as he carried her ahead of her brothers and their burden. The screams of Humans and Werewolves alike rent the night air, evidence of the Werewolves' battle to maintain their foothold on the mainland. Seeing all through her own peoples' eyes, the cub realized that her people were being forced to flee the lethal weapons being used against them. And, for some reason, the Humans were pushing one of their former oppressors further and further south. Toward the desolate, barren, sand covered lands known as the Scorch.

For the first time, the young Werewolf Queen was afraid.

The Reaper found himself in a trance of sort as the images that had been dancing in front of his eyes suddenly vanished. He desired so strongly that what he had been shown was an elaborate lie, but as Khepri pulled her teeth from his flesh and licked his wound to help seal it, he knew that she had been entirely truthful. As much as it pained him to admit it... the Werewolves had helped both his mother and himself once upon a time. They had gotten his mother away from the lands surrounding Queen's Lance, and he inferred that they had also escorted her to safety somewhere within or near the Scorch. He didn't know quite what he should make of this revelation. He felt no small amount of guilt for the scourge that he had been to the Werewolf race for his entire life, yet he also felt a bit of anger towards his mother for never divulging the information of her salvation.

In fact, his mother had lived in hateful fear of the Werewolves for her entire life. She'd encouraged him to kill their former predators when he stumbled across them and was able to do so, she'd never had one good thing to say about their race as a whole. The Verheiin was beyond bewildered, and could only hope that he'd somehow puzzle everything out. How he had spent the past eight centuries plus of his life hunting the very species that had protected him while he was still in the womb was beyond him. His thoughts led him to contemplate whether or not Cressa had even fully realized who it was that had saved his life.

"That's part of why we brought you here, my Lord Reaper," Khepri's voice startled him from his reverie. As he met her crystalline gaze and noted the blood trickling from the corners of her mouth, he swallowed hard. "We wanted you to know the part of your story that took place even before your birth... and we seek your aid."

"My aid?" he rasped. "What could you do-... Wolves possibly need my aid for?"

Jase was a silent sentinel behind the Verheiin, just as Ajax was behind Khepri; both of them seemed highly wary of interrupting the exchange between the two predators. To each of them, these moments felt like little eternities, all other outside time felt suspended upon it.

Khepri took a breath, bracing herself to speak the truth to this still-potential enemy. "My mother seeks a parlay with the Vampire leaders towards a potential alliance against the Human Bitch Queen's descendant and her Kingdom of tyranny. She would ask you to accompany her journey to Nazra's mainland and to the Bridge of the Ancients. She would ask you to aid us in being an envoy for peace, a delegate of sorts, between us and the vampires."

It made sense. Centuries ago, that endless passing of time before the Reckoning, Vampires had held dominion over all except for mature Dragons. The Humans had kept their stomachs to the ground as they scurried about as rats, constantly fearful of falling prey to a more powerful being, and lived below ground in their attempts to conceal themselves. The Werewolves had been moderately less fearful of the powerful Vampires, but would still cower submissively before their enemy if the odds of battle were not in their favor. The Dragons had been aloof at best and a miserable pain in the arse for all at the worst, for they cared not about the petty squabbles of beings they deemed inferior.

As the Reaper pondered over this revelation in his own mind, Jase was aghast. "You would seek his help... With Vampires?!" He demanded, his tone appalled. "He has never had the misfortune of dealing with them before!'

Khepri grinned her wolfish grin at that. "Precisely." She flipped a stray lock of hair back over her shoulder, it was getting too long. When she fully Changed, even the little hair her wolf possessed was shaggy now. "My Lord Verheiin has never had to trouble himself with the extermination of a rogue Vampire, only Werewolves thus far. We thought he might appreciate a new challenge along with the chance to see some new, interesting things and happenings."

She had the Verheiin by the short hairs on that one.

"I... I concede to your logic on that, Heiress," Jase's tone was much softer, and he inclined his head in her direction respectfully.

"I'm still struggling to fully comprehend why in the fuck you think that I wish to leave the Scorch, journey to distant lands with a pack of wolves as my ally, serve as an ambassador of sorts for peace, yet also be a glorified bodyguard and assassin when necessary? With the ultimate endgame being the overthrow of the Human Queen and her empire and re-subjugation of her entire race? Retribution?" The Reaper finally found full control of his voice; it was tinged with a halting respect now when directed towards Khepri, yet still possessed its ability to express emotions.

Khepri found herself stifling laughter at the hilarity she found in the way that he summarized it all so simply. "If he only knew the half of it..." She reached out to Ajax via their private telepathic path of communication. She heard his husky laughter resonating in her head and couldn't stop a genuine grin from lighting her features and a few smoky chuckles from escaping her lips. "Well... to put it simply." Her shoulders shrugged.

Jase and the Verheiin found themselves unable to stop from joining her soft, breathy laughter. Never in the Dracgon's wildest dreams would he ever have believed that his journey searching for and following the Sands Reaper would have resulted in a battle betwixt the Reaper, himself, and Werewolf Wardens on the sands of the Scorch. He would never have thought it possible that he would fight to keep a Werewolf female alive on a journey to parlay with her Maharani and being allowed access to the Underden itself. He would never believe that he would be set upon by assassins in that very place, and fiercely defended by the Heiress and her Wardens after having massacred many of her people. He would never have dreamt that said Heiress would execute her own blood publicly for violating guest laws, and then divulge one of the great secrets of her people by biting the Verheiin and showing him the memories of her ancestors.

Jase only knew that's what she had done because he had been bitten and shown himself... twice. Once it had been forced upon him, and he found the knowledge impossible to truly believe, utterly blasphemous even; so he had strangled the She-Wolf that had bitten him, left her naked body atop the sheets, and fled. Eventually, during the course of his wanderings, he had stumbled across a lone Werewolf, one proclaimed Feral, and had promised the worthless being his life in exchange for being bitten. He had told the wolf that he wanted to see all memories pertaining to the Reckoning. And so he had.

The revelation that everything had been real had caused him to leave mainland Nazra permanently and abandon his post on the border of the Scorch. He had forsaken his vows to Queen Lesna and the Human race, to his brother Dracgons, and his family in the face of his new knowledge. To utter those truths would be treason - a death sentence for not only himself, but his family and servants as well.

Khepri slowly managed to regain control of herself, and raised a hand to wipe away the tears of mirth that were streaming from her eyes. "Just think about it..." She requested of the Verheiin. "I mean, just think about what you've been doing to us for centuries. Now imagine what you could do to those who've never even bothered with your existence and would be your instant enemy." She winked at him.

Both the Verheiin and his Dracgon companion were left momentarily speechless, and Khepri used that moment to wave two nearby servants over to lead the two males to their chambers.

"Go get 'em, rider." Her voice was a purr before she turned and walked the opposite direction of that which the servants were beckoning them toward, her hips swaying and her posture confident in her retreat.