Nathan awoke with a start, shooting upright in his bed, gasping for breath. "Nathan, are you alright?" asked a young woman standing at the foot of the bed, obviously startled. Nathan almost fell out of his bed, startled as he was.

            "Light's sake Rachel, don't scare me like that," he managed to gasp out. It was only Rachel Summers, youngest child of King Scottius and Queen Madelyne Summers of Genosha, and Nathan's little sister.

            "Scare you?" she asked, "You had me terribly frightened. You were twisting and turning violently in your sleep, calling out, and I couldn't wake you." Rachel looked considerably worried. She wore a white robe with a double red band around the neck and sleeves, indicating that she was an Apprentice in the Order of the Askani. Yet Rachel wasn't an Apprentice, only a Novice.

            "Who are you?" Nathan suddenly demanded, "And what did you do with my sister?" He rolled out of bed and grabbed the woman roughly by the wrists. Rachel wouldn't advance into the Apprentice level for over a year, and while they wore dual-banded robes, Novitiates only had a single band; a small detail for an imposter, but an important distinction to anyone affiliated with the Order.

            "Nathan let go! You're hurting me! What's come over you?" Nathan released her forcefully and the women fell backwards, stumbling in the dim bedroom. Dawn had not come yet, but was lingering just below the horizon.

            "I asked you once, imposter, who are you, and what have you done with my sister?"

            "I don't know what you're talking about!" The woman picked herself up, and brushed herself off, "You must be confused. You had a nightmare. It's alright, I'm here now." Her voice had smoothed, as she slowly moved towards him, arms outstretched for an embrace. Nathan's muscles relaxed for a second as doubt crept into his mind. But as she drew closer he saw a glint of steel and acted upon years of combat training. He parried the blow with his hand before the imposter could strike, and in one sweeping motion disarmed the woman, threw her back to the floor, and threatened her with the very weapon she had just tried to assault Nathan with. It was a long, curved knife, with jagged edges meant to do more damage being pulled from the body than the actual stab did.  Nathan straddled the robed woman, knife pressed to her breast.

            "One last chance, friend. Who are you, who sent you, and why are you wearing my sister's face?" The imposter laughed, her voicing changing to a cold reptilian rasp.

            "I may have failed, but there will be others. As long as you live you and your family will never be safe Kaluachi." Then, with remarkable force, the woman grasped Nathan's hands and drove the blade deep into her own chest. Her body began to shake violently, and green ooze began to pour from the wound and gurgle from her mouth. Nathan leapt to his feet, both surprised and disgusted at the same time. His mind knew that it was not his sister dead on the floor, but his stomach was not completely convinced as it rolled around inside him. He stared at the prone figure at his feet and noticed it had already begun to change, reverting back to its true form, he suspected. The assassin's skin began to turn green and more closely resembled a leathery hide. Long, clawed talons replaced human hands, and yellow pupil-less eyes removed any doubt about the imposter's identity.

            "A skrull." The word came out of Nathan's mouth like an epithet. But where had it come from? Skrulls had not been seen in the west for hundreds of years. Their kind had almost been wiped out during the Great War, after which they had fled to the caves of the eastern mountains, licking their wounds in the safety of darkness. They were a race of lizard-like beings that had the remarkable ability to take on the appearance of any other person, like a highly evolved chameleon. However, unlike reptiles, which spend their days in the sun, Skrulls were strictly nocturnal, direct sunlight was fatal to them - legend said it turned them to stone. "I guess we'll find out if that legend is true in a few minutes," Nathan mused staring out the window at the now rising sun.

            Nathan rummaged through his would be assassin's robe, hoping to find some clue as to the identity of the skrull's employer. Skrulls could impersonate anyone, but not easily, and not for very long. It usually took several hours for a skrull to metamorph, and if he or she stayed in disguise for longer than a few days, their personality would begin to fracture, eventually the creature forgot its true identity and believed itself the visage it saw in the mirror. That meant the Skrull had been near his sister recently. He had to find Rachel, Nathan thought, his mind racing through nightmare scenarios. He dressed hastily, throwing on what was nearby. He grabbed his leather belt and scabbard off the floor; within the scabbard was Graymalkin - one of the royal blades of Genosha. It was given to him by his father on his fifteenth birthday.

            "Forged from our land, to defend our land," his father had told him that day, over a decade ago. It was a long, light blade forged from mystical metal buried deep in the Genoshan mines; bearing the crest of the royal family - a single glowing ruby eye imbedded in the hilt. Ancient lore taught that a star had fell onto the island of Genosha centuries ago. It buried itself deep into the land, and imbued the island with otherworldly strength. Nathan wasn't sure he believed that, but he did know that Genoshan blades were some of the finest in the known world, and had protected his homeland many times in the past. Nathan strapped the scabbard hard to his side and darted from his chambers to find his younger sister. One skrull had perished tonight, and though not by his blade, many would if harm came to Rachel Summers.