Vahlok roared as he clawed at the walls of his cage. He had been trapped for three days, ever since he’d been caught stealing anti-ageing drugs. He needed those drugs. He needed them to not become a Varga.
Everything had been fine up until six months ago. Back then, Vahlok was the most loved Kalsa Warrior in the nest. Their head strategist. Their best fighter. How many Temthan pirates had he killed? How many invasions had he stopped in his brief life? How often had he prayed to The Overlord of Permeance? His constant sacrifices, and for what?
The Age Gene. The single, broken gene in his body that was causing him to rapidly age. But unlike most beings, Vohra aged differently. They normally found out their genders at the age of fourty, to become adults at fifty. Or get themselves neutered so they never grow up. Valok on the other hand, he was already growing up.
And not in a good way. Not only was Vahlok aging, he was the wrong gender. He was male. A young female, a Vayra, was appreciated. A male Varga was considered useless. Only the very best Varga got to mate with Vayra and have children. The rest would go insane and be thrown out to die. That was to be Vahlok’s fate.
Growing tired, Vahlok fell silent and leaned against the wall of his cell. There was no way out. Already, without the anti-ageing drugs, Vahlok could feel the changes start to happen. Everything about being a Varga was bad. The change was fast and painful. The aftermath was agonizing. Normally young males would be sedated during the change, but Vahlok’s crimes meant he had to endure it all without anesthetic. Annoyingly, if Vahlok had not tried to delay his fate, he would have been sedated. He might have even been able to mate with the Queens. He could have had a good, if brief time as a Varga.
Vahlok smiled at the irony of it all. His own actions caused this. But the amusement quickly faded. He was going to suffer, then he was going to die. All his achievements would be forgotten. Or worse, attributed to others.
The pain was getting harder. Deeper. As if his spine was burning. His skin was starting to ooze with a black goo, the sign that the change was about to start. With a sigh, Vahlok decided to make one last prayer. The Overlord of Permanence had ignored him for all these years, he probably wouldn’t answer now. But perhaps it would distract Vahlok from the pain. He got down on his knees, placing his hands flat on the floor, then lowered his head and closed his eyes.
“Blessed Overlord. Blessed Permanence. Blessed Void. Blessed Stasis…”
Vahlok sighed again. He was realising how futile all of this was.
“This is… most likely my last prayer to you. I am angry, my Lord. I am in pain. I feel that my life has been wasted.”
Vahlok didn’t expect a reply, but he paused anyway. It was only polite.
“I have tried to do my best. I know I have sinned. I have sinned greatly. I have killed rather than trying to control. I have forced rather than persuaded. I have stolen rather than asked. That last one was my undoing.”
A second pause. It was tradition to give HIM a chance to answer. HE never had.
“But I have never asked for anything for myself. Just this once…” Vahlok grunted with pain. His limbs felt cold. His back felt hot. Everything else felt painful. “My Overlord, I have nothing to offer but my life and my servitude. The pain, I can deal with. The monstrous form, I can deal with. But the loss of my mind… That will destroy me. I would do anything… ANYTHING to not lose my mind…”
Vahlok sighed. He was losing hope.
“Anything?”
The voice made Vahlok jump. Instinctively, he leaped to his feet, ready to attack. But there was no one around.
“Who’s there?”
“Perhaps an answer. Perhaps no one.”
Was this real? Had the Overlord heard his prayer?
“Are you…”
“Yes, Vahlok. I hear you. I have been watching you. And I must admit, I am impressed. I have… an offer for you.”
Vahlok almost couldn’t believe it. Surely this had to be an illusion. Becoming a Varga was always a traumatic experience. This was all…
“No, this is real, Vahlok. I have a new purpose for you. But I need you as a Varga. Physically. You Vohra, none of you realise the power of a Varga. The strength of so many Vohra. A mind can be kept sane, but the Vayra are not willing to do what is needed. I am.”
Vahlok didn’t understand. “You… want me to be a Varga?”
“Yes. A Varga with a complete mind. Working for me. Personally.”
The air started to vibrate. Something flashed into existence, then disappeared again. Valok swore he felt something poke into the back of his neck. But before he could think more about it, he felt his body explode in agony. Everything was sharp, as if he had been enveloped in layers of steam and ice. The ooze on his body started to condense, robbing Vahlok of his ability to move. A coccoon formed around his body, sealing Vahlok’s fate and keeping him still.
His body did not stay motionless for long. A process that would normally take a few hours was rushing through in seconds. The coccoon rapidly expanded as his body grew into a more powerful, more terrifying form.
As soon as it started, it all ended. Vahlok erupted from his shell, his soft, fleshy body replaced with solid armour. Bony plates ran up and down his body, talons replaced his little fingers, and his tail was tipped with terrible spikes. His head, covered in armour and filled with serrated teeth, now sported a pair of long, curved horns.
“What… have you done to me?” Vahlok growled. But his surprise was doubled as he realised he could still speak.
“I have made you perfect, Vahlok.”
A large black figure appeared, upright, with antlers and gold, ornamental armour. With a wave of its claws, the cage around Vahlok dissolved. A wave of revelation and relief washed over the newly reborn Varga.
“I… I humbly thank you for your gift…” Vahlok bowed. The creature though lifted him to his feet, treating him as an equal.
“No need to thank me, my Arch-Warrior. I have big plans for you. Together, we will make the universe perfect…” Stasis smiled as they teleported away.