Aside from a well lit bonfire fire, no real light source was anywhere to be seen in the darkness. No stars to be seen, distant town lights or even the fabled “Mare in the moon” showed her face tonight. Of course there were glowing eyes of all colors watching the scene intently, but that was hardly a welcome sight for any other race but the owners of said eyes.

Changelings.

Several of them. Not quite fully grown adults yet, but not yet far from that time. Many were tired, exhausted from either the intensive training or the simple fact that none of them have gotten any sleep yet, but none of them were showing it, either out discipline or fear.

Each one was well disciplined indeed. All handpicked for to be part of something new, something greater than themselves. All were training to be a whole new caste of warriors, or rather ‘Silencers’ as they have been referred to. Most if not all were immensely proud to have this honor.

One in particular surveyed his comrades Most of his comrades were of the typical blue, but his carapace was red, as was his eyes, one of the more uncommon colors among his kind. Now he was the only red remaining. There were once a few others, back when their number was over twice the size it was now. Since his first day with them, he had seen some die from the training, from punishment and from accidents. Some even just “disappeared”, usually after making some snarky little comment about the the new queen, their commander or just whining in general.

Those who were still alive had learned well, so far. They kept their mouths shut and did what they were told to. Not that he had anything bad to say about it at all. The fact that he was still alive gave him great pride, but he knew there was the chance that many here, even him, could still meet their end before they prove themselves ready. Today was yet another one of those lessons.

In front of the group were two changelings in front of the bonfire. One was not unlike the trainees. young and still with going to do, but unlike them, he was looking the worst of his life. Both of his wings had been torn off, with his chitin shell cracked and bleeding out in several places. He was chained upright to a post, hanging to from helpless in a daze from all he had just endured.

The other changeling stood out among the rest. A full grown male with eyes white a snow as was his carapace. His face held a subtle, but powerful stare into the group before him. A simple, but deadly sharp knife was held from his hoof on the ground. He looked to the broken and chained youngster and then to the group before him. They all knew him as Vesp, an advisor to the new Queen and their commander.

“All of you, every single one of you, has been given a great honor.” Vesp spoke not to just one, but the entire group.”I personally chose each of you not because I cared or liked any of you, but because of your potential. You all have the ability to do great things for your queen one day. But first, you must prove you have what it takes first. That you have the strength, skill, intelligence, and most importantly, the inalienable loyalty to do so.”

He pointed to the chained one. ”This one here saw fit to speak against our queen. Calling her “usurper” or “Tyrant”. To think I was once thought something of him. He makes me sick”

The chained one lifted his broken face up to try to look at his former comrades. Many either made silents snarls to him or turned their heads in disgust, but the red one kept his gaze. He did what he could to keep his expression, but he was almost screaming on the inside. He knew this changeling. Him and Gaunt had always been by each others’ side since day one. It broke his heart to see him like this. This was the last thing he had hoped he would have to see in his life.

Vesp walked his way slowly over to the prisoner before turning to the others. “All of you best remember this day. Let it be a reminder to you to all that the price for treason and disloyalty,” Vesp reached around to his side and drew a dagger. The black outline of the blade was highlighted by the flames, giving it a pitch black appearance. “Is death.”

Author's Note

Not really that good of a prologue in my opinion, but it does at least try to shed some light on what Myrmox had to go through in his early life.