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Harry stuck to the shadows, as not long later he sensed his father growing closer, heard the rumble of his growling breathes and the minor earthquakes of his consistent heavy steps.

He could hear the commotion of the various assembled Kaiju citizens;Very few showed themselves, many kept indistinguishable in the shadows save for their glowing eyes in a myriad of colors. They shone like variegated stars in the dark.

So he remained behind with the majority of the Kaiju- those who counted as the small, the weak, and the unimportant. The multitude; rather than the select important few that went ahead. The ones who slithered after his father were the ones he was more familiar with. One with many eyes in a beehive-like face and mandible teeth. He was sure if Ron got an eye of him, he'd be spamming spells all over the place, combined with screaming and running the opposite direction. Not that he'd blame him, if he hadn't been "equipped" as he was, he'd be running just as fast in the opposite direction of the beauty queen. As if sensing his thoughts as he crawled on by, he let a rotund armored shoulder slam into him, and he flew off his spot to land on the ground twenty metres below.

Of course he landed as he should. On his back, breath knocked out of him.

What did you expect? For all of his awesome reflexes, he hadn't had them for all that long, and he wasn't a cat. And while the impact didn't hurt, it was surprising. So the abomination continued forward, and from his uncomfortable position on the floor -he swore that he could feel some pretty nasty things on it, it wasn't like the Kaiju had bathrooms… did they? Did they even have to… you know? But nasty thought or not, it was going to have to remain a mystery, as there was absolutely no way, no matter how curious he might be, that he was going to have that kind of conversation with his father. But never mind that- he could hear the small Kaiju whispering, almost creepily chanting, "king, King, KING!" a chant that continued in the background and a softer "Prince, prince," and then he swore they took their eyes off his father, and turned them towards him, glowing bulbs slit and changed the chant by a single consonant, "Princes!"

He did really not want to be near that, so eyes forward on the creatures, but making sure to keep track of the light level around him, he backed away so he would be FAR away from the creepy things. He couldn't help a shudder that ran through him as their eyes followed his movements. Not to mention that Gomorrodon kept getting under his feet, with all of the large Kaiju around.

"THIS IS DUNCAN, MY HEIR."

And suddenly their attention wasn't on him anymore, and he was fine with that. But it drew his attention as well.

The words themselves were shocking, but were not that unexpected. He had little knowledge of the world he now found himself in, and only the greedy or the foolish (of which he liked to think he was neither) walked into a position of power blind.

So he was grateful that for all of his father's interest in his life and well-being up to this point (very little, mind you) he appreciated the opportunity to be part of another interesting and very frightening culture without risk of death from nowhere. While he was sure there would be just as many reasons for people to kill him now as ever, it was also obvious that he had much less people to worry about attacking him. For while the Kaiju were almost innumerable, the wizarding community was undoubtedly much larger. So it would most likely be easier to pinpoint any threats, rather than worrying about any stranger off the street. He also liked that no one was really expecting something from him-save for being the son. They didn't want him to be king, and there was no way he would take any position of power, unless he was ready for it, or wanted it. And he didn't see that happening any time in the future.

He climbed up to the top of the rock in leaps in bounds, conveniently stepping the heads of a few jerky monsters as he climbed to the top. Leaning up over the edge, only to see his father and some of the subjects mentioned earlier circled around a pit of simmering lava. The light from the lava made strange shadows, and he could just barely hear the sizzling and occasional pop of the molten earth. Clenched tightly, but seemingly loose enough to prevent damage, was his… brother.

He definitely wasn't what Harry was expecting, with his blonde hair and sharp features. He looked Harry's age, which he hadn't expected. His father had never told him how close they were in age, but he hadn't expected to be so close. His hair was styled in a rather strange shape, he had an overall straight nose. Harry supposed he wasn't bad looking, but then again, taking a look at himself once more, he decided that he wasn't one to judge. In fact, on the sliding scale of anthromorphism, he was definitely closer to human on the more human side than Harry, which he was more than a little jealous of. He wasn't sure if he would ever look that human again, save for some kind of glamour. He shook the uncomfortable thoughts out of his head and focused on his brother.

He was rather gangly, and if he was judging correctly… which he thought he was, the look on his brother's face seemed to be pretty even cut between enraged… and nervous. But he thought from somewhere he caught an undercurrent of fear.

His eyes though, he thought he might have seen them before, and then he realized. That shade of ochre, he had seen it before reflected off the crystal, and in larger size on his father's face. There was no doubt that the boy there was his brother.

He watched his father has his ferocious grin widened, and he opened his hand dropping his brother into the roiling lava below.

Duncan's P.O.V. (i.e. Falling to his death in a pit of lava)

OH DANG, OH NUTS, CRAP, CRAP, CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP.

Okay, okay. Calm down. When falling to your death, it is important to look for ways out of it, kids.

…

…

Okay, he had nothing.

He was so screwed. Thanks Dad. Thanks a lot, He hadn't even gotten to as Kenna out. WTH. He was going to die, young, freaky, and surrounded by giant monsters that were thousands of years old, ready to grab his crumbling corpse out of the lava and eat it. Great.

He was going to leave behind his new and most likely his only friends, that old fuddy-duddy Barnes, and his mom. Maybe he had time to tell his write his last will and testament before he hi-

Too late.

Hitting the lava wasn't as painful as he expected it to be, rather it wasn't painful at all. It felt more like doing a belly flop into a hot tub from a moderate height. Maybe at most ten feet. Which he knew it definitely wasn't considering that he was on a giant hand what was most likely at least seventy five feet in the air.

He didn't feel anything at first, and then it really started to burn.

HARRY P.O.V.

It had been several minutes since his father had dropped Duncan into the lava. All he could hear was the steady breathes of himself and those around him, and the increasing aggression on his part.

But he could only try to calm himself with the knowledge that his father wouldn't kill his heir. He had just announced it, there was no way that he could have changed his mind so fast.

But not long after, he could hear a soft rumble, and a muffled growl. The lava started to bubble, lapping up over the crusty edge. His father was speaking,

"The birthplace of our people. We came from it, and we all return to it, and it powers our bodies. So long as the Earth stays living, we will be on it, long past the others are rent on our claws and dead of frailty and old age. We were the first, and we will be the last. And my son will rule our clan. "Growls resounded in the cave, some approving, many in objection.

The rumbling ceased and then lava splattered across the cave.

His brother looked very different; his skin previously a light orange color, had gotten darker and strange indentations he'd come forth on his chest circled around a gem that was very similar to the one on his own, only the color was different. What he had in obvious weapons, blades, his brother lacked any visible weapons, but that became redundant as his brother immediately turned his face ceiling-wards, and let out a breathe of fire that let off heat that he could feel across the room. It lit the cave in it's entirety and he thought that it was close to-no, matched his father's flame in strength. It could flay the skin off bones and kill in seconds.

The aggression in the voice called for him to follow, it felt the answering call in his blood. The need to shred flesh and lap up spilt blood. To massacre and murder, to be the dominant species. But it was shook off, he wasn't a monster.

Behind him however, he could hear the scramble and scratches of claws and the shrill screams of a few dying creatures. The soft tearing of flesh and the occasional drip drop of spilt blood. The iron tang filled the air, with the sulfurous flavor and it became obvious that this place was Hell. The demons, "and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." He knew of the bible, having been with religious fanatics and their intolerance over the years, so he had at least a basic understanding of some of the passages, and he couldn't help how this one came to mind.

His brother faltered however, and he wasn't prepared for when out of nowhere he heard a whistle as something flew at colossal speed through the air. He ran forward, he could feel the destination, he felt that there was danger.

So, in direct opposition to the orders his father gave him earlier, he sped forward, going on all fours. He jumped off different bulges of rock, he had to be there, had to get there faster, he had to make it.

He pushed his brother out of the way and milliseconds later, giant blades dug into the ground at where he had been standing so shortly before.

His brother rumbled under him, and roughly pushed him off. He hadn't expect it, and quickly returned to bipedal form and stood up away. Duncan also stood, but it was slow, jerky and when he looked into his brother's eyes, what he saw wasn't what he expected.

They were slit, and his lips were creeping back into a grin. He knew that feeling, instincts to protect himself had activated. The urge to kill, and taste blood.

Bloodlust.

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