Ulysses Slaydon

Alpha's world narrowed to the cramped confines of the trunk. Scotch tape on his lips, the smell of fear. Everything happened in a flash: a shadow at the entrance, a sting in his neck, a lapse into unconsciousness.

The car stopped. Ulysses' calm voice could be heard through the metal: "Yes, he's with me. Unharmed. For now." He saw the Codex. The power he sensed intrigued him. Typical of his kind.

In response, there was an indistinct hum. "No, re-education is too harsh a word. I prefer the term 'enlightenment.' I'm taking him to the White Spire. His alpha nature will meet what existed before any hierarchies."

A pause full of cold animenia.

• Don't worry. I'll just show him his true place.

The silence after these words became deafening. The click of the lock sounded like a gunshot. The trunk swung open, letting in the chill of the night and the silhouette of the ghostly glowing tower. Towering over the bound Alpha was the imperturbable figure of his captor—the Enigma who had decided to become his judge.