The brief moments before the heart-breaking event brought flashes of
life, upbringing and death to the tear swelled and petrified eyes of
Atlak. He envisioned his first days in Mellor's company. He recalled
the sweet scent of the geeroh fohwuhr-s, a type of flower native to the
Unarran continent. He remembered the pleasant sounds of other Tresed as
they witnessed the miracle that brought new life to the land of
But the moments of joy soon turned foul. The echoes of the telepathic
screams were pooled with the roaring sounds of the Pikatan.
Concentration was impossible. "What did they just say?" Atlak thought
with urgency. He knew something was amiss and perhaps it was his
distaste for the Pikatan that sent his thoughts to the correct
It no longer mattered that light and telepathy travelled much faster
than the average Pikatan. Stealth and dexterity were unimportant.
Agility was irrelevant. The anger of the untamed Pikatan was too
great. Through his screams, Atlak attempted to communicate with the
Pikatan; he tried desperately to summon help from any other beasts or
any Unarra in the area. His attempts were met with no success. Thump
thump. Heart beating faster than a Tyrusian riding a wild Tekkor,
Atlak made one last attempt to do something - anything - but he simply
could not move. Thump thump. Terror struck, he took in sharp, painful
breaths. Blurry vision that somehow focussed on Mellor showed nothing
but bent, wavering shapes of black surrounding the object of his
attention. On top of the mortal blackness, dazzling lights filled the
corners of his eyes. Thump thump. He cried in that one brutal moment
of contact - an instant which would live forever in his heart.
And then it was over. When Atlak regained his self control he looked
up, then quickly turned and walked away. Ashamed was the word he most
commonly used to describe his feelings of that night. He thought that
by foul-mouthing the Pikatan he had somehow broken the Great Chain of
Being - that he personally threw off the sacred balance between the
Unarra and the beasts of the land. He felt remorse as he considered
that perhaps it was his stray empathic thoughts that invoked the instant
of violence in the Pikatan tribe.
As any good spawn would, Atlak held the holy Death Ritual for Mellor.
He tried hard not to think of the death as he half-saw Mellor being
placed on the tree branch, all wrapped up in his cocoon. Rather, he
tried to think of the good times that they had shared. Still though,
nothing but bitterness for the Pikatan resided deep within his heart.
As the attendees of the ceremony quietly left the planes, Atlak sat
staring up at the night sky. He could almost feel the blazing heat of
Devar, imagining it hurling balls of pure fire directly at him, almost
wishing it were true.
That was the last time Atlak thought with such naivety. For though the
official ritual had been completed, this was when Atlak completed his
personal journey. Within the hidden chambers of his mind, he realised
for the first time since Mellor's death that Mellor was not truly gone.
He understood that as Mellor's spawn, Mellor would always remain a part
of him. Yet, there was something more. Atlak felt a sort of presence
and understood that he had inherited something special from Mellor,
something that not even the most revered of Tresed could give him. He
inherited Mellor's spirit, and knew with great content that it would
stand by him through all times - good and bad - for the rest of his