Prologue
Bane
I stared at my sire with the ever-burning urge to kill him, slowly, painfully, and to laugh in his face as I tore him limb from limb. General Khutu, military leader of the Kryptid army was the true embodiment of evil. Malice or cruelty didn’t drive him, only ambition. Decades ago, he had decided the world would bow to him. He has ever since single-mindedly pursued that goal. People, whatever their species, age, or gender were mere tools for him to use in any and all ways that helped further his cause.
So many had suffered and died, sacrificed to the altar of his ego. He had exterminated or enslaved entire races, used their populations as guinea pigs in his twisted experiments first to create his hybrid sons—like me—and then to give life to nightmarish war creatures to bring the galaxy to its knees.
“Approach, my son,” Khutu said, his back facing me as he stared at his latest creation inside the lab.
I complied, cringing inwardly at the term of endearment, which he fortunately rarely used—and especially not in public. My feet sunk slightly in the cushiony surface of the floor made of thick, organic material.
I hated this liveship—or any of them for that matter. Entirely grown out of organic tissues shaped into a vessel, they were low maintenance, easily modifiable, and just as effective as a vessel built out of more traditional material. But who wanted to live inside a mindless creature eager for you to bleed or keel over so that it could digest you for self-repair and general maintenance?
Carved directly into the reddish-brown tissue that lined the walls of the ship, a transparent membrane acted as a window through which my sire was admiring the work of his bioengineers of mixed species—each one working against their will and under duress. In response to the General’s signal, they opened the front panels of a series of cylindrical, tinted glass tanks. The panels lowered into the ground revealing the naked form of a dozen Mimic females.
No. Modified Mimic females.
My anger and hatred rose another notch as I gazed on yet another desecration of a peaceful species by the General. Their normally dark blue skin was now covered with yellowish-brown chitin scales and plates. The texture of their usual black hair appeared odd, a little too shiny and almost plastic-looking from where I stood. None of them had their signature stormy eyes, but instead had black eyes lacking pupils or sclera, same as the Xian Warriors. I couldn’t tell if the originally aquatic creatures still possessed vertical gills alongside their necks because of the scales now covering them. A tiny pair of bug wings dangled lifelessly at their backs. If not for having seen their faces before the experiments, I’d have never guessed they’d originally been Mimics.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Khutu asked, grinning with needled teeth at the females.
I could kill him right now and end all of this.
As if he’d sensed my thoughts, he turned his multifaceted, oversized eyes towards me. The mandibles framing his oddly human mouth flexed in a clear sign of his blossoming annoyance that I hadn’t responded quickly enough to his question.
“Stunning,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t betray any of the disgust I felt for the mutations he’d imposed upon those females.
He cast a swift glance above my head, his lips pinching ever so slightly in further irritation that he couldn’t read my aura. I learned at an early age how to silence it after receiving one beating too many because it betrayed my true feelings. It was the first thing I’d also taught my half-brothers to spare them from our sire’s abuse.
“But what are they?” I asked, genuinely intrigued—and worried.
“Your queens,” he said, matter-of-factly.
I gaped at the females who had stepped out of their tanks and were standing still, evenly spread out in front of us, then turned a confused gaze towards the General.
“As in your new brides?” I asked, hesitantly.
“No. As in your new mates,” he answered mockingly.
My stomach dropped, a nauseous sensation twisting my insides at the thought of any of those females touching me or me touching them in any sexual way.
Khutu turned to look at one of the females, quite attractive, with full lips, a pointy chin, tall, slim body with generous breasts and sensually curved hips. She smiled and advanced one step. As soon as she started shapeshifting, I immediately guessed the General had telepathically ordered her to do so. Of all the wretched forms she could have picked, she took on his appearance.
Growing in height and mass, the Mimic turned into the General’s insect-like humanoid body, with broad shoulders and a hard face. Every detail was perfect, from the upper part of his head, shaped like a helmet with a crescent moon Deynian horn—which I’d inherited from him—to the spikes around his forehead. The same thick, black, chitin plates covered her muscular body, inhumanly narrow at the waist. She raised her now chitin-armored hands, splaying their five fingers to show their vicious claws gradually coming out of their tips. Then crouching down on the three segments of her legs, she vertically jumped at least two meters high, landing effortlessly on her feet.
Unsure how to react at this display, I gave Khutu an uncertain look.
He chuckled. “You’re wondering what’s so special about an enhanced Mimic that simply morphs into another being.”
“Yes,” I admitted, already dreading what would follow.
“Go on, Shuria,” Khutu said out loud.
When she didn’t react right away, the General frowned then must have reiterated the command telepathically because seconds later, her throat began to swell and undulate in a fearfully familiar fashion.
“No way,” I whispered.
That triggered the proud and gloating laughter of the General. Shuria turned towards a free-standing, tall metal panel on their right while the other modified Mimics and bioengineers stared on. Her lips parted and the glistening, sharp tip of a mouth dart appeared between her white teeth. She spit it out, and it flew at dizzying speed before embedding itself into the metal panel. I couldn’t hear the sound that it had made, but I knew the material enough to know how powerful her throw had been.
“Unlike the originals, these Mimics do not only take on the appearance of a target, they also take on their abilities while in that form,” Khutu boasted in that grating, clicking voice I so hated. “If she morphed into you instead, she could take on your battle form and be able to spit your venoms, darts, and fly just like you.”
My blood turned to ice realizing what a powerful creature the General had engineered.
“She could soul-transfer, too?” I asked, glad that my voice revealed nothing of my rising panic.
To my utter relief, Khutu lost some of his arrogance as he shook his head.
“That part remains a mystery I intend to solve. When they morph into one of my Soulcatcher brides, the ghost of a psychic vessel appears in their psychic minds,” Khutu said pensively. “I believe if they remained in that form long enough and trained their psychic muscles, the Mimics could act as real Soulcatchers.”
“But wouldn’t their vessel vanish the minute they morphed into something else? If they were holding one of our souls at that point…”
“It would make for a rather unpleasant experience,” Khutu said with a creepy smile. “But I have not created them to be Soulcatchers. They will birth the next generation of elite warriors… with you.”