“Pssst.”
Levik glanced up from the bowl of mushroom sludge he had been eating from. This whole hall had been designed with each individual in mind, from the shape of the chairs to the food on the table. However, this Vohran spread didn’t look luxurious at first glance. Compared to the other tables, coated in fabulously rich dishes, all Levik had was an assortment of either mushroom-based messes or honey-like syrups.
However the little psst was a big distraction for Levik. Mostly because he had seen who was trying to get his attention. Peering from the other end of the plain, wooden table was Lord Kohra, the current ruler of the Kronospasts. Immediately, Levik tensed up.
“What are you do-”
“Please stop…” Levik growled, lowing his voice. His words hissed for a little too long, before becoming inaudible and finally switching to his Vohran telepathy. “You are going to blow this for me.”
“Blow this for you?” the Kronospast spoke aloud at first, but realised what Levik was trying to do. “I… Oh. Never mind, I’ll wait until you’re finished eating.”
Lord Kohra stepped back, then made his way to his own little space, made for Kronospasts. No one else seemed to pay much attention, but Levik noticed that the Rethavok had glanced at Kohra briefly. As the Kronospast laid itself out on its luxurious, silk-laden bed, a voice sneaked into Levik’s head.
“Can we talk now?”
“Via telepathy? Fine.” Levik thought.
“Good!” Kohra inaudibly exclaimed. “Because I have no fucking clue what you’re doing here, brother! Somehow you’ve managed to convince everyone but me!”
The heavily built Vahrga rolled its eyes as it licked the bowl clean, then moved on to a smaller bowl of honey-water, flavoured with hints of tropical flowers. “As far as anyone is concerned, I AM a Vohra now. I gave up my former life.”
Levik glanced across the room, where Kohra was lounging, swirling a drink in his hand.
“Never understood why though.”
“You don’t get why I abandoned a race of selfish cunts that threatened all others?”
“You joined the Vohra, the definition of Manifest Destiny and overwhelming with numbers, brother. I’d have understood if you’d, I dunno, joined the tribal-torn Ksithans or the splintered Temthans or whatever. But you… became a Vahrga.”
Levik snorted out loud. “That would be boring. I wanted to completely distance myself from the rest of you. Most Kronospasts hated me because I was too good of a shapeshifter, they wanted me gone. So I left. I successfully integrated myself with one of the most closed-off races in the universe. The middle son of Lord Avra, disappearing in the night. And no one found out, no one noticed and no one even bothered to ask. Until now.”
With a snarl, Levik watched the Kronospast, waiting for a reaction. However, he was surprised when Kohra simply shrugged.
“Well, me and Tahnahos knew. Just didn’t want to get in your way. But I’m in charge of the Kronospasts now, and I do want to keep my kin accounted for. And I’m changing things for all of us, hopefully for the better.”
“I… do not follow.”
Kohra appeared to smile as he sipped his drink. “You are welcome home, if you so desire.”
Levik sighed, shaking his head. “No. I am a Vahrga now. I represent millions. I am happy.”
“Very well. I’ll leave you to it then, and the option is always here if you change your mind. In the mean time, your secret is safe with me.”
The armour-clad brute watched as Kohra raised his glass. With a grunt, Levik lifted his bowl back, before returning to his meal.