Tales of the Snake Men: Book Two – Chapter 6
Chapter 6: A Serpent’s Final Prayer
King Hiss, towering and regal, standing before the Snake Men in the sacred chamber of Snake Mountain. His voice, a deep thunder, filled the room.
“Kobra Khan,” he said, eyes sharp with approval.
“You are the venom in our fangs. The whisper before the strike. You’ve earned your place beside me as General of the Snake Men.”
Khan remembered the honored moment, the pride swelling in his chest.
The way the others—Tung Lashor, Scales, even Rattlor—nodded in respect. Finally, he had been more than a weapon. He had been seen.
But the memory flickered.
The light in the sacred chamber dimmed. King Hiss’s face twisted—not with pride, but with contempt. His voice turned cold.
“You failed me, Khan. You let Skeletor live. You failed.”
Khan staggered, eyes wide. “No…”
The other Snake Men sneered now. Rattlor looked away. Tung Lashor hissed in disappointment.
“You were never one of us,” their voices layered in unison.
“Just a tool. Disposable and forgotten.”
Khan clutched his temples, shaking.
“That’s not what happened! That’s not what he said!”
“King Hiss trusts me with his army.”
But the Slime laughed. A wet, echoing, suffocating sound that slithered into every corner of his mind.
“Of course it isn’t, little serpent. But it could have been. And now… it’s all that remains. Its time… Let it go. Let them all go.”
Kobra Khan whimpered as the corrupted memory played again and again, each version darker, more shameful. The pride he had once clung to—now a weapon turned against him.
The ooze made its final descent, coating his trembling legs. The thick, glowing substance clung to him like a second skin unwilling to let go. Khan’s claws curled instinctively as the ooze reached his ankles. The Slime pool at the base of the pit was thick—almost gelatinous—but with a strangely silken texture, like warm oil poured over velvet.
“Stop… please… I just need to think… I just—need to feel anything else…”he desperately pleaded.
And deeper within his breaking mind, another whisper:
“Let this pain end. Stop remembering. Stop fighting. Just… obey.”
The warmth was too deep now. It wasn’t just on his skin—it was inside him. With every breath, he felt it whisper, in comfort. The kind of comfort that comes after surrender. The kind that asked for nothing but silence.
And he was so… tired.
He looked down. What he saw wasn’t familiar.
- His arms were sheathed in thick, congealed Slime. It clung like living armor.
- His hands, once weapons of claw and venom, now flexed sluggishly beneath a translucent coat, no longer his own.
- His chest—a battlefield of symbols—was now mostly buried. Only a sliver of the Snake Men emblem remained visible beneath the ooze, flickering in and out as another layer crawled across it. He stared at it, eyes wide, as it sank beneath the surface.
- His legs, once strong and grounded, were trembling in the swirling pool of Slime at his feet. Every toe was coated. Every scale muted. The ooze welcomed him there. He could feel it sliding inward, deeper than flesh, filling hollow spaces he didn’t know existed.
His breath hitched. He didn’t try to move. Didn’t clench his fists. Didn’t resist the warmth crawling over his ribs. He only watched.
The General tilted his head back, eyelids heavy, face bathed in green. His body trembled, not from pain, but from the overwhelming relief that came when resistance finally faded. The claw still held him, but it didn’t have to.
And yet – a flicker remained. A single thread. A single name.
“King Hiss…” as he bowed his head slightly.
The whisper left his throat like a dying breath—raw, thin, fragile.
“I’m sorry…”
“I tried. I did. I fought as long as I could.”
“But it’s stronger than me…”
“I can’t hold on anymore.”
The Slime pulsed across his chest, caressing the last trace of the Snake Men symbol as it disappeared beneath the green.
“I know you’ll see this as betrayal…”
“But I swear—this isn’t who I was.”
“I just… wasn’t enough.”
His voice broke.
A single tear rolled down his scaled cheek, only to be caught and dissolved by the Slime. He reached out, hands trembling, dripping of ooze.
“Forgive me, my King.”
“For being too weak… to stay yours.”
Then came the moment.
