AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, everybody! I'm back again, finally. Some things you should know about this chapter (though I'm sure you could figure it out yourself anyway). It's just one huge flashback to right after the war. Not the battle they had on Earth, but the war they had on Antar way back when. Just showing what Khivar was doing all that time, what the skins were doing, etc. There's also a hint to what Serena was going to say buried in here somewhere. You didn't think I'd come right out and say it, did you? Anyway, onward through the pages. Read and enjoy. (

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Khivar stood on the balcony, looking out at his kingdom. His kingdom. He liked the sound of that. It just rolled off the tongue: Khivar, King of Antar and Carnath. Kyden, King of the Lythian System. That sounded even better. Smiling, he took a deep breath, taking in the musky stench of war and the pure ecstasy that came with the sweet smell of victory.

It was three days since he destroyed the King's army, two days since the General was burnt at the stake by his own people, and one day since he was crowned king. All in all, it was a good week. The only thing that could make it even better was the Granolith. He'd been searching for it since that whining cow otherwise known as his sister sent it off with her retarded brat of a son. The ship and the servant she sent with it were recovered, but the boy and the Granolith were never found. Now, twenty years later, it was finally in his grasp. He could feel it.

"My liege."

He turned to find a servant. He raised an eyebrow at him.

"T-the, uh, t-t-the Gran-granolith i-i-i-is." he stuttered, eyes trained on the floor.

"Spit it out," he barked.

"It's gone."

"What?" he growled.

"I-it's not in the chamber. We've checked every room."

"Show me." The man nodded his head, and led him to the Granolith Chamber.

Two burly guards stood in front of the large steel doors, each holding large laser guns. Guns so dangerous, so lethal that they were banned in the rest of the system, only allowed for the protection of the Granolith. Those guns were able to completely obliterate ten men with just one blast. On seeing their new king, the guards turned to open the lock. They each pulled out a key card and in a completely synchronised move; they ran it through the slots on either side of the lock. A red light started flashing at the top of the door and a silver podium rose out of the floor. The guards put their left hands on the two black screens on top of the podium. A green light slid across the screens as a laser scanned their hand sizes, fingerprints, DNA and pulse.

"These are the only people besides the Royal Four and the Queen Mother who can open this door." The servant felt a need to explain, getting more comfortable around his ruler. "It is programmed so that only one combination of people can open it. These two guards must be together to open it, as well as the other two. The other combinations are the King and the Queen, and the Princess and the Queen Mother. The scanner makes sure that the right combination of people are present and that they are actually alive."

Khivar tuned him out as the podium sunk back into the ground and the doors swung open. The room was huge. It was made entirely of black marble from the smooth floor to the high arched ceiling. In the centre sat.nothing. Khivar walked to the middle of the room in disbelief. It was gone. He walked over to where his prize should have been and brought his hand up to touch the air there. He could feel where the power had once been. The air was still sizzling with its energy.

Khivar roared with anger as he stormed out of the room, calling back, "Find it! I want every corner of the planet searched!"

********************************** *********************************

Nikaid stood silently in a corner as his leader paced up and down the room in anger. They'd just found out that the Queen Mother had sent off clones of the Royals to Earth with the Granolith. To say he was furious was an understatement. Now, not only was the Granolith out of his hands, but even if he did find it, it would still be controlled by that wretched waste of space, Zan.

Earlier that day, they had gone down to the dungeons to torture the whereabouts of the Granolith out of the Queen Mother. Khivar fingered the scar on his face as he remembered that harpy's claws trying to dig out his eyeballs. She would pay dearly for that. He would see to it. She could no longer look forward to a swift execution.

"What should we do now, sire?" Nikaid asked finally.

"Gather all the scientists on Antar and Carnath."

"May I ask why?"

"Because you are going to Earth to find them."

"But.I am Antarian. I can't survive there."

"Obviously. That's why I need the scientists," Khivar said matter-of- factly. "They are to build husks for you and at least a hundred soldiers. I want every square inch of that rock searched until they are found." He smiled evilly at him. "You are not to return until the Granolith is found."

"But the husks only last fifty Earth years at most."

"Then you'll have to be quick, won't you?" Nikaid nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Nikaid." He stopped. "Never question me again." Khivar laughed as the General of his army scurried out of the office.

*********************************** ********************************

Khivar stepped off the ship into the cold, dark night. The alleyway was dark, dank and deserted. The moonlight reflected off the wet, garbage- covered pavement, as Khivar looked around in disdain. So this was Earth. Nothing much to see but a lot to find. He breathed in the slightly heavy atmosphere and coughed. He would certainly be happy to get back home.

"My lord," a voice said behind him, in surprise. He didn't bother to turn.

"Nikaid." It wasn't much of a greeting. "Where is the Granolith?"

"Well, s-sir, um."

"Yes?"

"We, um, we haven't found it yet."

"I see," Khivar replied, calmly, still not turning around. "Do you know how long you've been here?" He turned, staring at the nervous form of the man before him. The tall frame and muscular physique of the husk shook with a nervousness that just didn't look befitting.

"W-well."

"Six years, Nikaid! I have been waiting six years for my prize! Where is it?!"

"We don't exactly know, sir. All we know is that it is with the Royals."

"Really? I would never have thought that," Khivar sneered sarcastically, "Now, after you asked the cows at the zoo for that little tidbit, what did you find out with that big, superior, Antarian brain you supposedly have?"

"Uh, they're called monkeys here, sir."

"I don't care! Where are they?"

"Well, we've tracked down one of the protectors the Queen Mother sent with them."

"And?"

"He knows where they are, and he's willing to give them up but he has conditions."

"Which are?"

"Free passage back to Antar with.benefits."

"Then what's the problem? Make the deal."

"We did, but apparently the Royals are the key to getting it. Apparently their incubation pods are housed in a Pod Chamber somewhere on this continent. Until they hatch, the chamber cannot be opened. The locking mechanism is connected to the breaking of the pods."

Khivar blinked. "That is by far the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"The Shifter swears it."

That interested him. "Shifter? He's Carnasian?"

"No. It seems the Queen's scientists developed a serum that allows Antarians to survive on Earth without husks. One of the bonuses is that they can shift shapes."

"Hmm," Khivar scratched his chin. "They didn't tell me that. Some torture seems to be needed." He smirked. "Find me the shifter. I want a talk with him." He clasped his hands behind his back.

"Yes sir." Nikaid turned to leave.

"General."

"Sir?"

"That husk. It's quite handsome. Strapping."

Nikaid smiled. "Thank you, sir, I."

Before Nikaid could even bat an eyelid, Khivar grabbed him by his thick neck and slammed him against the wall. Sweat trickled down his face as a pair of cold, grey eyes glared into his own. "It doesn't do you justice," Khivar growled with a wicked smile, inches from his face. Nikaid's brow furrowed in confusion as he felt a burning sensation slowly creep up his body from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He screamed in agony as the burning intensified and his whole body shook.

Khivar cackled evilly as the husk of his right-hand man transformed under his glowing red hands. Shrinking. Reshaping. Reforming. Satisfied with his work, Khivar let go and watched him topple to the floor, sobbing in pain.

"Get up," he said cruelly, kicking him in the ribs.

Nikaid pushed himself up on thin, shaky arms and legs, small hands hurriedly wiping away his tears, and looked up at his master.

Wait.

He felt short.

He looked at his hands in horror. They used to be bigger. He was sure they were bigger than this. He ran over to the nearest puddle and gasped in shock at his appearance. He was.

"I think that's much better, don't you?" Khivar laughed as he walked away, leaving him behind.

.a teenager.

************************* ************************

An hour later, as Khivar sat at a bar drinking a martini, he was still chuckling to himself. The look on Nikaid's face was priceless. One that would surely amuse him for years to come. Khivar swirled the drink in his glass as he turned on his barstool observing the natives. He couldn't see why his ancestors were so fascinated with this place. The people looked ridiculous in their brightly coloured shirts with huge lapels and overly tight pants doing some kind of imbecilic jig. He couldn't say that he was fond of the music either. From what he'd heard, it was called disco and he was thankful that it wasn't available in his system.

"Scotch on the rocks. Triple the scotch, half the rocks."

Khivar turned to the woman that just ordered. She was leaning on the counter just a few inches away from where he sat. She wore a bright red miniskirt that stopped high on her thigh with a white halter-top. Matching knee-high platform boots and a beret topped the outfit off. Her dark brown eyes were lined by long eyelashes coated with numerous layers of black mascara, some of which was smudged in long trails that marked the path of old tears down her smooth tanned skin, past fire engine red lips to slide off a delicate chin. Her long black hair hung carelessly around her face and down to the middle of her back.

Khivar watched as she slumped down onto a stool, running her slender fingers over the rim of her shot glass and thought she was too bright, too preppy to be in this dingy place. She didn't look like she fit in. Then suddenly, she picked up the glass and downed the drink in one swig. She tapped the glass on the counter in a request for more.

"Rough day?" he ventured to ask.

"Rough life," she groaned, rubbing the now empty glass against her forehead.

"What happened?" he asked, feigning interest. He was stuck on this worthless hunk of rock until his transport unit regenerated; there was no harm in having a little fun while he was here.

"Believe me, you don't wanna know," she said with a slight chuckle.

"Try me." He smiled, charm oozing out of every crevice of his body. He stopped the bartender as he was passing and ordered her another drink.

She downed it as soon as it was set in front of her, and then turned to the stranger next to her. Through her slightly blurred vision she could tell that he was very attractive with his piercing grey eyes and mischievous smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just talk to him. In fact, this way worked best. She could rant all she wanted, get as drunk as humanly possible and probably humiliate herself beyond belief and it wouldn't matter because she was on the wrong side of town anyway and would probably never see him again.

"It's just.why are men such jerks?" she said, slurring a bit.

"It's a mystery of life," Khivar answered. Of course, he didn't have a clue what a jerk was, but he assumed that was the right answer.

" 'Cause they jus' can't make up their mind. One minute they're dancin' wi' you, nex' they hustlin' wit' some hussy with big boobs and stickin' their tongue down her throat.

Khivar out her rambling and just sat back to watch her. Even in her drunken state, she was gorgeous. His stay here suddenly didn't look that bad.

".So, what's your name?" she was asking.

"Khi-Kyden."

"Celeste."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Celeste," he said, kissing the back of her hand. She giggled.

"Sorry about the rambling."

"It's no problem. I like to hear you talk," he lied. He barely heard a word she said.

Celeste smiled shyly and looked away from his gaze, instead concentrating on drawing pictures on the counter out of the water droplets left from her glass with her nails. Finally, making a decision, she glanced back up at him.

"You-do you wanna.go somewhere?"

********************************** **********************************

The room was dark, the only light filtering through the crack between the curtains that covered the small window. He was sitting on a lumpy armchair in a cheap motel in New York City, wondering just how he got here. He'd led a good life. He did his job to the best of his ability and obeyed orders. He'd been a good soldier, doing his leader proud, in his mind anyway. He supposed that was his first mistake. If he'd chosen a different profession, maybe a merchant, a teacher or a bloody basket weaver for all he cared, he would probably be back home right now with a wife and kids, maybe a pet, instead of being in this hellhole.

Then again, he could be dead. Could have perished in the war. Blown to bits before he knew what hit him.

Maybe he should be grateful.

His bitter laugh caught in his throat as he struggled to breathe in the atmosphere. He popped a few more Tictacs in his mouth, the cool mint somehow easing the passage of air through his body. He hadn't adapted as well as the others appeared to have. Maybe it was from all the experiments the government carried out on him. He knew, however, it was probably because he shifted into so many shapes so often, but maybe, on a subconscious level, he wanted to suffer. It made what he was about to do easier.

Suddenly, the door burst open, breaking him out of his reverie. He winced at the bright light as the intruder flipped the light switch.

"Why're you sitting in the dark, Shifter?"

He didn't even bother to hold in his snort of laughter. "What happened to you?" he asked, eyeing the teenage boy in front of him with a smirk.

Nikaid bristled, remembering his new form, and said nothing.

"I think I did a great job," Khivar said, haughtily, walking in behind him. He ruffled Nikaid's hair in what could only be described as a condescending manner. "It gives him.character." He patted him on the back before examining the room in disdain. "Is this how the protector of the Royal Four lives?"

"For the moment," he answered. Khivar nodded and sat scornfully on the bed.

"What's your name, Shifter?"

"Captain Brog'ed Haardayn."

"Brog'ed. You know where the Granolith is." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"And the Royals?"

"Yes."

"Where are they?"

"I cannot tell you. I will not until my conditions are met," he stated calmly. Khivar raised as eyebrow. This man had the gall to be unintimidated. He almost respected that. Almost. It mostly pissed him off.

"What are your conditions?"

"I want unhindered passage back to Antar and when I get there, I want a large piece of land in the southern quadrant with a mansion to rival the palace. And I want to be left alone."

Khivar nodded, thinking it over. "Deal. Now where are they?" To his surprise, and complete annoyance, the Shifter started laughing. Khivar growled. This man obviously did not value his life. "Whatever is so funny?"

"How stupid do you think I am? Do you think I don't know that you'll kill me as soon as I give you the information? Or worse yet, leave me high and dry? No, I want it in writing. Signed and bound."

Khivar scowled. The shifter was smarter than he thought. He motioned for Nikaid to get the papers ready, and then trained his eyes on the Captain.

"Nikaid told me that the Granolith can't be accessed without the Royals."

"That is true. The woman Rath sent with us was very competent at making locking mechanisms. The Granolith Chamber cannot be opened until all the Royals have hatched. I don't know how she did it, but she even made it so that it couldn't be opened even if the pods were destroyed and the Royals were killed. I guess a year on your own gives you the time."

"I bet it'll open if we blew the place up," Nikaid said.

"Wouldn't work. The other protector, Private Vardex, created a shield. The chamber cannot be destroyed whilst the Royals are inside. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion can get past it."

Khivar growled, getting up and pacing.

"And you have no way of getting past it? Disabling it?"

"Not until they are born, no."

Khivar roared in anger, punching a hole in the wall. He grabbed Captain Haardayn by the collar, scowling menacingly. "Then what good are you? I should just kill you right now."

"Then you'll never find them." He smiled smugly. "They'll hatch, grow and return to Antar before your little plebs have time to peel the last layer of skin from their faces." Khivar's eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger. "Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Khivar said, finally, stepping away from him. "But for the price you're asking, I want more." Brog'ed raised an eyebrow in question. "When they hatch," Khivar clasped his hands behind his back and resumed pacing the room. "You will ensure that the Queen produces an heir. Once she is with child, return them to Antar for execution."

"But sire," Nikaid piped up. "If the king has an heir, the Granolith will be passed to him."

"He's right," Brog'ed agreed.

Khivar rolled his eyes. "You think I don't know that that's a possibility? If you'd shut up for a minute, you just might learn something." Khivar's face was twisted in a mask of irritation. "When King Zan is executed, the power will automatically pass to the next in line. That would be his son, who would be an infant, if not a newborn baby at this point, if you do your job correctly." He looked pointedly at Brog'ed. "He'll have no allegiance with his real father. He'll be mine to mould and shape as I please. I could control the Granolith through him."

"And there'd be no chance that the power would transfer to some other random person," Nikaid said in realisation.

"Exactly."

"Brilliant."

Khivar nodded, then focused on the Shifter. "Well? Is it a deal?"

He seemed to be thinking about it, his conscience rearing its ugly head. It was sent scurrying back into the dark pit it was currently living in by his next coughing fit. Popping some more Tictacs in his mouth, he agreed.

"Excellent. Nikaid! The papers."

He finished writing up the contract, then handed it to his leader. Khivar quickly scanned it over before signing it at the bottom and handing it over to Brog'ed who did the same and put it in his pocket.

"Now you have to bind it," Brog'ed insisted.

Khivar cursed under his breath. The shifter was relentless. He'd hoped that he forgot about the binding. This was one of the customs he hated about his system. The binding was an offshoot of every Lythian's communication power. It was like a contract in one's subconscious that gave a painful kick in the head if it was ever broken. If he bound the deal with the shifter, there was no way he could get out of it. Then again, there was no way the shifter could get out of it, either.

Reluctantly, he cupped his hand in front of him, the familiar glowing ball appearing as Brog'ed did the same. Concentrating, he separated a tiny green ball from the whole, changing its colour from white to a mixture of all the other colours of the spectrum, red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo and finally violet, before it finally disappeared leaving only the tiny green ball.

Khivar glared into Brog'ed's eyes as the balls bobbed in front of his face, casting an eerie green glow over his features. With a nod, Brog'ed began the binding.

"I, Brog'ed Haardayn of Antar, hereby pledge to deliver the Royal Four and the King's heir to Khivar."his brow furrowed as he struggled to remember a last name. The binding had to be specific or it wouldn't work. He looked at him questioningly. Khivar rolled his eyes in annoyance and reluctantly gave his full name. The Granolith was worth two people knowing who he really was.

"Kyden Rathmeare," he grunted. The Shifter's eyes widened in surprise.

"Rathmeare? From the Royal family of Carnath?"

"Yeah, yeah. You pay attention to the news. Good for you," he said sarcastically. "Get on with it."

"He nodded, restarting. "I, Brog'ed Haardayn of Antar, hereby pledge to deliver the Royal Four and the King's heir to Kyden Rathmeare of Carnath as stated in the contract signed by my person without fail and without question," he recited.

"I, Kyden Rathmeare of Carnath, hereby pledge to reward Brog'ed Haardayn with a mansion on the Southern Quadrant of Antar and a title of nobility as stated in the contract signed by my person without fail and without question," he rattled off.

The two green balls flew towards each other at a fast speed until they collided in an explosion of a thousand sparks. The sparks moved in a circular motion through the air before converging in the centre as two glowing spheres, spinning on their axis.

Khivar and Brog'ed closed their eyes as their respective balls re-entered their bodies. With that, the ceremony was complete. They were bound in a contract that could only be broken by death, but could not be severed by death of one party caused by homicide on the part of the other party.

"There," Khivar said, gruffly. "The deal is done. I'll see you at the execution." With a flourish, he stalked out of the room, leaving Captain Brog'ed Haardayn alone in the brightly lit, cheap, run-down motel room to think about the deal he just made with the devil.

******************************** ********************************

Kyden knocked on the apartment door of his girlfriend of two Earth months. It was not going to be a happy date, for her at least. His transport unit had finally recharged enough to make it back to Antar and he was more that ready to leave. It had been mildly amusing here with her, but he couldn't leave his kingdoms too long. In the greater scheme of things, she wasn't worth anything. She'd get over him eventually.

"Come in," she called from inside. Running a hand through his hair, he walked into the familiar apartment. It was small, barely a studio apartment. The walls were painted a clean apple white with bright, colourful Native American paintings and artwork hanging form every corner. The cream carpet was old, but well kept. Celeste was sitting stiffly on an overstuffed orange armchair staring blankly at the TV. He raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"Celeste?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

"I have to tell you something," she stated quietly.

"What is it?"

She turned to him, tears running down her cheeks as he stooped down in front of her.

"I-I'm, uh, I'm pregnant."

He blinked. Once. Twice. "Okay." He paused. "Is it mine?"

If there was a slow motion instant replay to life, you would be able to pinpoint the exact moment her mood shifted from anxious and unsure to extremely pissed off. Her eyes squinted menacingly and turned a shade of black so dark, light could never return from its depths. Her face was twisted in an enraged scowl.

Kyden, as Khivar, may have been the most ruthless warlord Antar, heck, the whole Lythian system had ever seen, but even he knew when to back down and this was definitely a time to duck for cover.

"Is it yours?!" she shrieked. "No, I know you did not just ask me that. Look here, little man," she yelled, poking him in the chest with a perfectly manicured index finger. "I don't know who you think you are, coming in here and treating me like some $2 whore off the street! Well, I ain't takin' it!" She'd backed him up into a corner, his eyes wide with fear. "Is it mine?" she mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Please! Like I spread it around for every Tom, Dick and Joe that passes."

"I think it's Harry," he put in.

"Shut up! You're busy questioning my fidelity when you should be explaining how I got this." She lifted her shirt revealing two tiny silver handprints on either side of her navel. Khivar's hand reached out to touch it, but she backed away. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"I'm an, uh, an alien." She nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "I'm the King of Antar and Carnath, that makes him," he gestured to the handprint, "my heir." He studied her face. "You don't look surprised."

"I'm not. My father knew one of your kind, a shapeshifter." Kyden's interest peaked at that. "Screwed him over real good."

"I won't do that to you, baby," he said, trying to sweet talk his way back into her good graces. After all, she was bearing the heir to his thrones, and as an added bonus, she seemed to know where the shifter was, or had been, which would inevitably lead him straight to the Granolith ahead of schedule. He cupped her cheek and smiled when she didn't pull away. "I'll be here for you and our baby."

"Really?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Really." He kissed her forehead, then pulled away. "You know, seeing you so pissed off made me all hot."

Kissing him softly, she whispered. "I know. I can feel it." She rolled her hips against him slightly.

Kyden let out a groan before attacking her lips. Celeste moaned, grasping his hair in her hands. He was always a good kisser.

Too bad.

With the force of twenty football players, she rammed her knee in his groin. Kyden's bloodcurdling scream of pain could be heard from miles away as he dropped to his knees, hands cupping his balls in agony. He was in too much pain to even attempt to heal it, let alone think about retaliating.

"Aw, did I hurt you, baby?" she asked with an innocent pout. He nodded, moving his hand to wipe away the tears that formed in his eyes.

She smirked. Fatal mistake. With barely a second to aim, she swung her leg back and landed her foot right where it hurt the most. Again.

Kyden's mouth hung open in a silent scream of pure unadulterated pain as his head turned an outstanding shade of fire engine red and the blue veins in his forehead stood on end as the blood rushed around his head.

"Yeah, I hope it hurts, you jerk!" she screamed in his ear, spitting on him. "That's for thinking you could charm me that easily." She nudged him with the pointed toe of her boot. "Get out! Now!"

Kyden struggled to get up on shaky legs, then, with a final glance back, he limped out the door.

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So, what do you think?