Thank you to everyone still reading this. I meant to update quicker, but wanted to fit everything into a last past chapter. After this I will go back to the ninjas.

Pythor woke up and stretched lazily. He felt very sore for some reason, as if he had been sleeping on a stone floor. It took a moment for his confused mind to catch up with his body. He sat up straight with a gasp, suddenly remembering the past few days.

He looked around and realized that he was no longer in the cramped and disgusting room. His scales were clean and the servant was nowhere in sight. Iron bars created a cage around him. Looking through them, Pythor noticed that he was in a cavernous room, very different from his last cell. At the one end was a door and at the other, an altar decorated with carvings of snakes and battles. All along the walls were scenes of flowing blood, Serpentine hybrids, and, most disturbing of all, female Serpentine.

Pythor didn't know much about the female Serpentine as they were before his time, but he did know that they weren't locked up by humans. There had been a war between the two sexes of the Serpentine, the oppressed males against the powerful females. In the end the males won and the females locked away. His father only spoke of them once, to explain why Pythor's mother was not with them in the tomb.

After examining the room, Pythor began devising a plan of escape. He was fairly slim, due to little food, and could possibly use his saliva to make himself slippery. From there, he could slip through the bars. It wasn't his favorite idea, but he couldn't think of another one.

Resigning himself, Pythor began to lick his arms and torso, using his long neck. It was disgusting and all through it Pythor shivered at the feeling of his on spit on his bare scales.

As he began to slather the liquid onto his back, the door at the far end opened. In walked Marissa. She walked cockily towards Pythor's cell, a smile upon her lips.

"Hello, my beautiful snake," she spoke possessively, "Do you like your new accommodations. Much nicer than your last ones, I must say. It was rather amusing, though, when you peed yourself."

Pythor stared defiantly at her, although worried about how she knew about that.

"And then there was that horrid man. Luke was his name?" she watched him closely.

Pythor wondered whether that was the man who made sure he ate and everything. If it weren't for that "horrid" man, Pythor would have died.

"But it doesn't matter now. He's about to be killed," she leered at him.

"No!" Pythor screamed.

He couldn't help it, Luke didn't deserve to die. That man was the first person who truly cared for him, since his father, but he couldn't think about that.

"Oh? And what are you going to do about it? You're stuck in here," Marissa laughed.

Pythor wanted to strike out at her, to make her hurt. He imagined ripping her apart with his teeth and eating her like that. But he kept his face devoid of emotions, having already reacted badly; wanting to make sure she got no more information from him.

"Of course, I could help him. I could choose someone else to sacrifice," she paused tauntingly, "But you would need to do something for me."

Pythor clung to every word she uttered next, although hating himself for it.

"I need you," she leaned in close and with every word her breath blew across his face, "to bless me with," her voice dropped to a whisper, "a child."

Pythor leapt back in surprise. She was even more insane than he had thought. Not thinking, he shook his head vigorously.

"Then I can't save your friend."

Pythor still shook his head, freaked out by her.

"Please let's get married," she was pleading.

Pythor was so shocked that he couldn't even shake his head.

"No," he said, as soon as he could.

Marissa became angry and turned beet red, "Then that stupid servant will die and you will rot in this cage!"

She spit at him and stormed out, leaving him alone. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but even then he could only sit down, his plan of escape forgotten.

No food came all that day, as though Marissa was punishing him. Although Pythor didn't know it, she actually was taking a small revenge. After storming out of the sacrificial chamber, as her family called it, she ordered that no one enter but her, even to deliver food.

Her anger was immeasurable. How could a dirty snake like him, rebuff her? He should have felt honored that she hadn't killed him. If she wanted to, she could have reduced him to a blubbering idiot, but she didn't. Since her husband died, she needed someone, a companion to fill her lonely nights.

Marissa, lost in thought, nicked her thumb with the knife that she was using to cut the cucumber. Blood ran across the table and Marissa watched in wonder. The dark red droplets shone on the gray countertop, glistening like rubies.

Andrew walked in to find his mother like that. He stopped in the doorway, startled by the look on her face.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

Marissa looked up suddenly. Andrew thought that she looked shattered, broken like glass after impact.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired," she gave him a small smile and wrapped a cloth around her cut.

Andrew found it hard to believe her, but he knew that she could react badly if he questioned her. He nodded his head and left the kitchen, suspicious of why she was acting strange. The guards at the entrance to the sacrificial chamber were reluctant to let Andrew enter. A few swift punches convinced them otherwise.

Pythor was pacing the cell, deep in thought, when Andrew walked in. He stopped when he saw the man. It was not in Pythor's nature to be weak, but after earlier, he was nervous around anyone related to that woman.

"My mother was in here, no?" Andrew kept his tone light and casual.

Pythor nodded, wishing that he hadn't followed Andrew, had eaten him and his brother right away.

"Would you tell me what she said?"

Thinking quickly, Pythor shook his head.

"All right, I'll tell you what I think she said. I think that she proposed for you and her to start a family. And I think that when you reacted badly, she threatened you. You and Luke. Am I correct?"

His guesses, if that's what they were, were spot on.

"I can tell by your silence that I am. This isn't good. She hasn't been the same since my father died. A little colder, more animated for the sacrifices. I overheard her talking about something like this, but I thought that it was just talk. I can't believe that she actually wants you to do… that," Andrew seemed to be talking to himself more than Pythor.

"We have to get you out of here."

Pythor felt relief at those words. He would be free and away from Marissa, if Andrew was telling him the truth. He seemed trust-worthy, but looks could always be deceiving.

"How?" Pythor asked.

He wanted to see whether there was truth behind this boy's words. If Andrew really was being truthful he would come up with a good plan.

"I'll come up with something by tonight. Just follow my lead when I come to get you."

Pythor watched as he turned on his heel and left.

There was no way for Pythor to know when night came, due to the lack of meals being brought in, but it seemed that Andrew missed the time that he said he would come. Pythor knew that the idea of escape was too good to be true. He knew that there was no one that he could trust.

And just as he thought that, the door burst open. Well, not really burst so much as swing out on its hinges, fast but silent. Andrew marched in, a key in his hand. He stood and faced Pythor, but didn't use the key. Pythor wasn't even sure that the key was for his cage.

Andrew spoke in low tones and quickly told Pythor of a plan to get him out. It wasn't fool-proof, not by a long shot, but the great snake was desperate. He did not plan on becoming Mr. Crazy Introvert. And he wasn't going to be a father.

Silent and invisible, Pythor stood in the corner of his cage. The door was broken and on the ground, bent by a great strength. He could leave the cage if he wanted to; simply slither out of there, but that would ruin the plan.

Pythor watched as Marissa, her father, Andrew, a few servants, and Luke entered. Luke was practically being carried, covered in bruises and untreated cuts. The serpentine felt an overwhelming feeling of hate. He hated Marissa and her family for being insane, hated Luke for being hurt, and hated himself for even caring. The man would die anyway, so it didn't matter. But Pythor had to work to quash his worry.

"Now, it is time," Marissa said, as Luke was fastened to the alter, "It's time for the sacrifice."

Her father pulled out a knife and stepped behind the altar.

He spoke words that were well rehearsed, "It was many years ago, too long to count. Many have forgotten, but we remember. We remember a time, long ago. When the Earth was without name and the towns not yet built. When peace lay across the world and the Serpentine reigned with fairness and strength.

"Despair, for this time of peace was not to last. The men of the Serpentine race were jealous of the power wielded by their wives and daughters and sought to take it for themselves. The leading men, Anacondrai in race, worked day and night to make them equal. They toiled in the basements of the world until they created an elixir that would grant them with the self-same, elementally based powers that the females possessed. However, the snakes are a tricky people and the Anacondrai tribe kept the greatest power for their own, magik.

"The hybnobrai got the power of hypnotism to complement the mesmerizing abilities of ice. The Fangpyre obtained the ability to transform other things into snakes, like fire spreading. The Venomari are able to cause delusions, as disorienting as lightning. The Constricti were given great strength, firm as Earth. And the Anacondrai were able to turn invisible, an illusion like the ones magik can create.

"All antidotes to their abilities were gathered and put into their staffs, which the generals of the rebellion kept close to themselves at all times, or destroyed. Then, they poisoned the food of the leaders and attacked. Without a strong core, the women fell and were locked behind iron doors, but it was close. The males were weakened and the time of humans came about.

"But we, the descendants of Queen Minotomi's servants, remember the greatness of the time of the Serpentine. And so, we sacrifice our own servants and kin to those in the afterlife and pray that the female Serpentine escape one day to bring back the peace!"

The last word hung in the air, a quavering, ominous note. Pythor wished that Andrew would give the sign and that they could leave. He didn't want to watch this, didn't even want to think about it. They were all crazy and he wanted to be safely away from them.

"With magik we cut down this servants sanity. With fire, we burned away his will to fight. We froze his escape attempts with ice. Earth crushed his hope. And now, with lightning, we will fry his system."

The old man raised the knife to the sky and a bolt of lightning struck it. Instead of electrocuting the Patriarch, the electricity stayed confined within the blade. Andrew chose this time to send the signal.

Jolted out of a horrified trance, Pythor slithered towards the door. At the same time, Marissa's father sent the blade in his hand towards the cage. It stuck in midair right where Pythor had previously been standing. Andrew walked up to his grandfather hand pulled out a second blade, which he stabbed the elder man with.

Marissa ran towards the cage and grabbed the hilt of the knife that she thought impaled her prisoner. It sent her to the floor where she writhed in pain. Andrew undid the restraints on Luke and pulled him to his feet. They, along with Pythor ran out of the chamber and house.

They were running across the field. The damp grass felt nice under his scales after being held captive for so long. With Luke right behind him and the sky above him, Pythor felt undeniably at peace. In fact, he hadn't been so comfortable in all his life. Being served in the house didn't count, because what came from it was almost the worse experience in his life.

Andrew was fast and in the front, never looking back, simply assuming that the escapees were following. Of course, the two never thought to stop following him. He had done enough to earn their trust. Saving two people's lives when all hope was lost tended to incite trust, even if those that are trusted aren't really trustworthy.

Eventually, Luke, Andrew, and Pythor came to a halt. They wheezed heavily, trying to get air back into their lungs. The sun shone down brightly, making them very hot, and Andrew knew that they would need water eventually. He just hoped that they wouldn't get caught.

Although Pythor and Luke lay down in the grass, Andrew couldn't sit still. He paced around their small area. He didn't like being so out in the open, where everyone could see them.

After about five minutes, Andrew told the other two to get up. If memory served him correctly, his mother and her hounds were most likely getting close. To is severe frustration, the two didn't move. They waved off his warnings.

Then, in the distance, wolves howling could be heard. The barking caused Pythor to jump right up, but Luke found that he could no longer move his tired muscles. Predictably, Pythor tried to help, but at that point they could see the wolves, advancing towards their prey.

As Luke and Andrew did their best to convince Pythor that they should both move on, the wolves stopped their hunt. They lined up on top of the closest hill and watched. Andrew doubled his efforts, he knew what was coming next. Giving up on words, Andrew lifted Pythor into the air and carried him away, right as a small device landed next to Luke. Two seconds later, the device exploded, showering Andrew and Pythor with blood and dirt. It was too late, Luke was dead.

Pythor collapsed and felt sobs well up in his body. Then, he thought about the freedom of not caring about anyone again. Instead of letting himself release his grief, he swallowed it and stood up. Brushing himself off, he continued to walk, a cool expression on his face, as though he had not just seen his first friend in years die. But ever after, he preferred spaces underground to ones out in the open.