Percral
Regardless of how much time passed, Percral found himself constantly fighting against the cowardice he'd shown as a hatchling. His little pack had been slaughtered by wolfstags, and he'd run away. When he was forced back to the scene, instead of growing past his initial weakness, he again indulged in his painful cowardice, running away and trying to usurp control from the Zaaktif, then Pack Alpha.
It had been years since then, and he had gone from a terrified Pack Alpha who knew he couldn't compare to Ashlani to a trusted member of the New Empire's government. In fact, he was considered the general, and the first war of the Nievtra was about to begin. He was positive that he would do exactly as he was commanded by his Zaaktif when the time came, and he now better understood his own abilities than ever before.
And still a part of him considered himself a coward. He'd survived the escape from the human lands, though that was mostly due to proximity to those better and stronger than himself, not his own worthiness. Rulac and Wisterl stood as shining examples of those who had deserved to escape and live. He was just lucky to have been born in the same brood as Ashlani.
This war against the Misti Hawar would serve as his proving ground as to how much he'd changed. In these coming days, Percral would purge himself of his shame, and there was nothing that he would allow to stand in the way of that goal. He'd been extended so much trust for these years, finally, he would prove himself as worthy of that, and worthy of being a leader in the Empire.
When he was called alongside the rest of the Zaaktif's elites to receive a report from Foire, Percral knew it was time. He commanded three of his most competent lieutenants to prepare squads of 50 each, two Alphas within each squad and leading 24 each. Then, in the meeting, he received the confirmation he saw desperately needed.
"Misti Hawar sign has been found in every direction, they are scouting the forests and setting small marks with their magic."
The Empire didn't know what these signs meant, but the heightened security they employed was pushed beyond everything that had seemed possible before then. Instead of hundreds of Kha and Khatif patrolling at all hours under Keel command, thousands were brought to the walls while the forests were scouted in deliberate, wide circles. Percral ensured he directly commanded these patrols as much as possible.
"No sign is insignificant! Anything you see, you report!"
Day after day, for weeks, Percral spent every waking moment, patrolling, looking for the enemy as winter fell in truth and snow coated the mountains. This time, though, he would stand against his people's enemies, and he would not leave until he found victory. When the first attack came by night, Percral was ready for them.
While they strode through the forest, everything blanketed with heavy snow that dampened all sound, the shadows started lashing at the feet of the Kha. Screams of pain went up, but the individual lieutenants and Alphas began issuing commands, light filling the area as they started to fight back against their attackers. Torches lit the air as the Misti Hawar coalesced from shadows and smoke. Their claws ripped into and through scaled flesh, but Percral held himself back only long enough to find one of the individuals who was remarkable enough to merit his attention.
Not that one.
That one was too weak.
That one was strong—it was already surrounded by two Khatif.
His fury bubbled inside of him, but then, alongside the back left flank, slicing ribbons of shadows grew deeper and shifted into wyrm facsimiles. The magic obscured all sight, and four Kha died in quick succession. Percral grinned as he saw his target, and he sprinted forward. As he entered the vicinity of the shadows, they all turned to him, but there was no physical body for him to attack. Not yet. As he compressed his magic inside of him, he threw back his head and roared an insult he learned in the Misti Hawar tongue.
Unsanki cobarki!
Honorless cowards.
As he said it, he exploded with a pulse of electricity that went in every direction. He hadn't given a warning to his people in the vicinity, but those who yet lived knew what he was going to do. As lightning ripped through shadows three of the Misti Hawar whelps were revealed only a couple dozen feet away, but this wasn't what he was looking for. Each one was stunned by his opening attack, and he strode with an overplayed confidence to the nearest one. He reached down, grabbed the twitching egg smasher by its head, raised it to his own head's height, where even its dangling tail couldn't touch the ground, and then casually spun it and snapped its neck.
The second victim saw what was coming and whimpered in its language, begging for mercy or for help. Percral didn't care which, he was slaughtering them to draw out their master, protector, or commander. Whichever it was, these three weren't the source of the impressive magic he'd seen. The second was also raised by its head, but instead of breaking its neck, he wrapped his other arm around its upper body, and in a deliberate motion while its trapped arms flailed, bit its throat out. Its blood stained his front, and as he turned his attention to the third, Percral felt a stirring in a nearby shadow. It was subtle, but the potency of its magic couldn't be denied. Finally, his target approached.
He made his approach, knowing he needed to goad his enemy into action before a real fight, so Percral repeated, "Unsanki cobarki."
As he raised his foot to crush the final creature's skull, shadows rushed towards him from his blind spot. He allowed the magic to strike him, and it fought to shred his tail to pieces, but managed only to make a surface wound in that opening attack.
Was this commander truly so weak? He'd offered as juicy of a target as possible, and this was all they had to offer? Percral put his full weight on the prostrate whelp and used that step to turn around and face his new enemy.
Three shadows, each seemingly as solid as the next, rushed towards him, and Percral laughed aloud as he sheathed his body in lightning. The first true warrior he'd seen from the Misti Hawar managed to not embarrass the entirety of its race, not fleeing or hiding from the fight that came to it.
Yes, this would be an opportunity to prove himself to the people he respected!
There was a substantiality to these shadows that let Percral know that their creator was one of the three, but he wasn't able to tell which. He threw himself at the first shadow, jaws wide open while his tail smashed into the midsection of the third. Somehow, the master was neither of the two, and his fangs and tail shredded only magic as his stores of lightning continued to diminish. Beyond that, the shadows were able to pierce several inches into his hide while the warrior threw itself on his back.
The feeling of an enemy jumping on his back was almost familiar, as it'd been a favorite move among others when they were trying to establish dominance as hatchlings. Unlike when he was only a keelish, not even a Kha, where he could do precious little but thrash, but now, his arms were more than long and flexible enough to grab the furry fiend by the scruff of its neck and dig his claws deep into the flesh.
It disengaged from the fight as Percral's claws cut deep through the ruff of fur on its neck. The Misti Hawar had learned that this was a beast it couldn't bear to the ground, and it attempted to fade into shadow to escape his grasp. With the electricity that covered Percral, the Misti Hawar commander was only able to escape his grasp, not the fight. Its shadows were dispelled by lightning, and there was no reason to allow it time to recover. The General of the New Empire threw himself forward, and the shadows fled away from his lightning. The commander flickered from one shadowy patch to the next, but they were too slow when injured. He lunged closer and caught his prey, slamming onto the still fiercely struggling creature.
"We will hunt you all," a low voice hissed as Percral pulsed again with electricity to dispel all of his enemy's magic. Then, while they twitched on the ground, he grinned.
"The Empire will never fall. Victory by fang and blood."
When he ripped the Misti Hawar's head from its body, he remembered the third Phrase of the Words of Power of his goddess: "We are the blade bared at the throats of those who dare oppose us."
He hoisted his enemy's head high and roared for everyone to hear, "Victory! Victory for the New Empire!"
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