The dais he was standing on had become the centre of attention. He looked from one eager expression to the next. They all looked expectant. At the lip of the platform sat the young boy. His eyes looked puffy and their corners were clogged with the residue of sleep. He had been awakened prematurely. This meeting had been called without delay. Standing at the front of the assembly were some of Ezekiel’s trusted lieutenants. The huge figure of Thalamus split the front row apart, his massive shoulders the width of two vampires. His dark hair hung in long, interwoven dreadlocks from which protruded bones, turning it into a mane of white scales. Like the man standing before him, Thalamus had risen from the brutal ghettos of the inner city; and together, he and Ezekiel had ascended from degradation to become leaders of this new world. Flanking the towering Thalamus were Brothers Trask and Franklin. Barely reaching as high as Thalamus’s chest, Trask had a disposition that would have looked more at home in a suit and tie, rather than the plated armour that decorated his ample bulk.
