He walked with purpose. Weaving in and out of shadows between the moonlight. His expression a solemn one, when visible. This part of the castle was rarely used, for only the King and a select few were even permitted where he now walked. His coronation was merely hours away, and being the Crown Prince gave him cause for no concern to quickly attend the festivities below. Antares mulled his thoughts, wondering what he would say and how he would say it. He was unsure of their reaction to what he had done today, to the ruthlessness he displayed.

  He did not care to mask his footsteps this night, for the caucasus noise vibrating below his feet did the job for him. It had been a long time since he heard the castle in such uproar, music reached even his keen ears. His heart fluttered slightly for he knew why they had all come tonight, for him. A celebration in his name, the last time he would ever be seen as an equal amongst his people. But as he thought to himself, it had already been quite some time since his kin had seen him as similar. His title of Lord of War made sure that Antares would always be thought of as something more, something greater in the eyes of everyone. A cold and lonely existence seldom could be understood, and even fewer could feel. The young crown prince knew this would be a reality that would follow him for as long as he lived. The title of King was only going to push him further into solitude. He thought it a fitting punishment, no one was more equipped for such an undertaking than he himself. As the sounds and music from down below rumbled on, his thoughts wandered to his father and a thin smile came across his face. He knew the late king hated gatherings like these. The constant posturing and games that were played all in the pursuit of a misguided sense of power. If there was one thing Antares knew about his father, it was that he did not like playing games. In many ways that is what he loved most about his father, he was too honest to a fault at times. Such that events like the one below his feet made him feel uncomfortable and out of place. But Antares differed with his father on this. For the king to be, enjoyed the games. He found amusement in how people carried themselves and wished to find favor with those of higher standings. The things they would be willing to say and do. For Antares it reminded him how there was no difference between the common folk and the nobility who looked down upon them in droves. All answered to a higher power, even the King.

  Before long he reached his destination. A thick marble door stood between him and the other side. He looked intently at the door, various Stygian carvings were engraved on it. The ancient language of his people felt cold to the touch, the words still biting a millennia after. He studied what they said and the tale they sang. He laughed slightly to himself, for it was a tale he had already read before. A tale of love and loss, a tale of blood and fire and the all encompassing ice. A Stygian tale like all the others. Under his breath, he uttered the name of the one whose tale was engraved. The carved snakes on the door began to writhe and slither their way, creating an opening for the prince. Both eyes of the snakes glimmered an obsidian purple, as though recognizing the soon to be monarch.

  Antares gathered himself and passed through the door. Upon crossing the threshold he was surrounded by an expansive nothingness that filled the room. It was a darkness that rivaled the color of his own hair. Had he stretched his hand into the dark it would disappear in front of him. Such suffocating and suppressive energy filled the room. Not even with his Akashic eyes could he see the boundary of what was within. To him it seemed to extend endlessly in every direction. An ocean of black without end. This sensation was familiar to him. A chill ran down his spine, although he could not see anything he felt the presence of several entities examining him. Seeming as though the room was reading his thoughts, thirteen mirrors appeared out of the darkness all around him. Each mirror breaking and unbreaking itself rhythmically. In one moment there were only two eyes staring back at him, in the next twenty-six.

  "We did not think you would come." The voice coming from the mirror in front of him.

  He steadied himself, choosing his next words carefully as he looked into his reflection.

  Two.

  "I thought it necessary to come to you all given the nature of..." Antares trailed off, unsure of the right word to use.

  Twenty-six.

  "...Given the nature of the massacre you carried out across Akkad this morning and the killings of Lord Omiros, Aldios and their families." The voice stressed the inclusion of the families of the late Lords making it known their displeasure was apparent.

  Antares remained silent.

  "You will say nothing boy?" boomed the mirror behind him, a gush of air blowing over him.

  Two.

  "I did what I was commanded to do, what I have always done. That is to keep Iliad safe." Antares maintained the same indifferent expression, he refused to show those who watched him even a drop of discomfort.

  Twenty-six.

  "Had you asked, we would have permitted what you did." A soft air blew across his cheeks as though comforting him.

  "It would have shown weakness. That I was unsure, and that I needed your guidance so quickly." Antares took a step forward stressing his last word. "But this way, this action is mine alone."

  There was a pause as though the mirrors were all in silent debate. Antares had hoped his words came off far more commanding than he thought they were. He had been in this room once before, accompanied by his father back then. But nothing compared to what he felt now, the pressure each mirror exuded was suffocating. He could see nothing in the darkness but he could feel the massive presence lurking in the shadows just behind the mirrors. Thirteen predators, deciding his fate. He hated them.

  "Very well," the mirror facing him breaking almost into a smile. "Your actions have been deemed as no consequence to the Final Design." A second mirror shattered next to him.

  The Final Design he thought to himself. It had been years since he last heard those words. Those accursed words that once robbed him of his future and almost his life. The obsession of the elders, and in his eyes their greatest weakness. It was what allowed the elders to view life, especially Stygian life as expendable. For all they did and all the ancestors who they communed with, it was in the pursuit of the Final Design. As much as the rest of Aurum would believe that the Stygians had no Gods they need not look further than that thing. That which the elders worshipped. The Final Design.

  He exhaled calmly. His gamble had paid off. The elders showed no signs of true opposition to what he did. They too had viewed Aldios and Omiros as a nuisance. Their desire for control over Iliad was something that had been allowed to fester for too long. With his quick action Antares had hoped this would show to those in this room and those below his feet celebrating him, that he would not allow the continued abuse of his home. His reign would be different from his fathers, it would be piercing, with direction. An unwavering approach to order within his realm and beyond. No longer would Iliad toil away in stagnation. The elders would not meddle with his plans and he would not allow it. Unlike his father before him, he would be the one to fashion the path Iliad would walk. Not them.

  "And what of Daimion?" the voice coming from behind him. Pain ran across his neck as though each word stabbed into his back. "He lives still?" it finished.

  "He is unimportant."

  Shit. Antares thought to himself. So far he had done and said everything correctly. He had hoped to keep the conversation away from his little brother. To keep him safe. But the question had caught him off guard. All it took was the pitch in his voice to rise half a note. No human would be able to notice the difference, very few Stygians would be able to tell as well. But the elders were different, every word he said, every action he made they saw and this time was no different. The quickened pace of his response so soon after the question was asked was enough to tell the elders all they needed to know and the true reason behind the massacre committed on that day.

  "He is why you did not come to us?" laughter echoed through the now shattered mirrors all round him. "Such cunning, for a hatchling."

  Antares held his tongue, assessing what the best course of action would be. He foolishly believed they wouldn't have gleaned that much about him from his mistake. Even still this did not shake his resolve. Instead he continued to remain silent, he would not falter again. Daimion and his family's lives were of the utmost importance.

  "You think the blood you have spilt today is enough for his life? For his family?" began a voice to his left. "He conspired in treachery against the crown. To take your birthright. You know what the penalty is for such hubris," continued another next to him, feeling their breath on his face.

  And another spoke and another and another. Different voices, some chastising him, others offering words of comfort. Others were disgusted with his show of weakness. Each voice rattling in his brain, wearing him down with each thought they forced into his head. Visions of his brother laying dead at his feet, his niece and nephew's throats cut open with their hearts removed. He endured the words of his elders as they continued to probe his thoughts. More voices began to speak, at first Antares could make out thirteen, their numbers growing until eventually hundreds spoke with such fervor and command. Each giving their own reasoning on what should be done to Daimion. He was drowning in their behest for action, for violence.

  "Silence!" Antares demanded. A deafening stillness shattered all the mirrors around him and shook the room with enough force he was sure those below would have felt it.

  Twice today he had used Kingspeak. And twice today all around him moved as he commanded. All was quiet as he compelled. His head becoming clearer as the silence continued. He ran his hand through his hair, he grew tired of the elders games.

  "My brother is ignorant, foolhardy, and envious." Antares began taking a beat. "But he is my brother, and I will do whatever is necessary to protect him." He said, unsure if he meant to convince the elders or himself.

  Antares wondered just how much he had failed Daimion. Was his absence so great that it led to this outcome for his brother? The Daimion he remembered was a naive and well read boy even more than himself. He was braggadocious and proud like any young man. But most importantly the Daimion Antares remembered was a kind man. Now whenever he looked at him all he could see was rage and hate. Unlike his twin sister Guinevere, Daimion was no warrior. He was raised to be a scholar, to be a man who instead of the blade would use words and logic to win battles. There was even a time before his exile that Antares thought of Daimion as being a worthy Lord Regent. But those thoughts seemed like a lifetime ago. Antares knew his father never wanted Daimion to pick up the blade as much as the young prince protested. Perhaps there was something his father saw in Daimion that he could not, even with his accursed eyes. It pained Antares greatly to see his brother as he was now. Of all his duties that laid out in front of him, he did not know where to begin in trying to save Daimion's soul. He lowered his gaze.

  "What arrogance to use such power freely," began the broken mirror in front of him. "You truly would let him go unpunished?"

  He straightened himself, "Make no mistake, he will be punished." Antares said sternly.

  There was further conversation on what the punishment Antares had in mind for his brother. He saw no reason to withhold this from the elders, for he was not going to change his mind regardless of their opinions on the matter. He did his best to state his thinking clearly and precise to those who remained in the shadows. He knew of their desire to make an example of those who threatened the order of things but he would not allow his brother to be that example. Enough blood had been spilt on this day, Antares would not allow another drop. He played their game and when they had convinced themselves that his punishment for Daimion was their own, they accepted his demands.

  "It is done," the mirrors exclaimed with indifferent satisfaction.

  "And what of Guinevere?" Antares asked, biding his time to ask the last of his questions.

  "What of her?"

  "She should be rewarded for the commitment to the protection of the crown."

  "Perhaps," stated one mirror. "Perhaps this is merely enough to escape any consequences for the failure to secure Hightower from the Nephilim."

  "She was given an impossible task." Antares responded.

  "There is no such thing as an impossibility." The tone in the voice was impenetrable in its claim, he could feel the power behind every word. "You know this better than most."

  "Guinevere is not a Lord of War."

  "We are aware," another chimed in, growing bored of Antares presence. "Painfully aware of her shortcomings in your absence."

  "Choose your next words carefully." Antares spoke in the old tongue, Kingspeak worming its way into his words involuntarily. A wicked look came across his face in the mirror next to him, his reflection himself and at the same time it was not. As though he were something else. "I will not allow you to mock my general so casually. I have killed for far less slights."

  The mirror exploded with so much force it sent glass shards flying around in every direction. For a brief moment the glass shards sparkled in the darkness like the constellations of a night sky. They shimmered and slowly disappeared into the void. Where the mirror once floated an outline of a man now stood in similar size to the prince. Its eyes glowed a menacing purplish blue. The skies within the eyes were filled with turmoil and hate.

  "I have lived long enough to see glaciers move and grind the very ground beneath my feet. My spear has severed more bloodlines than there are stars in the sky. You will do well to remember what I am. The horrors I have caused." Such violence cut a figure in the very dark. An elder was crossing the boundary.

  Antares, like any of his kin, knew the power the elders possessed. They were Stygians who had lived for thousands of years, who had seen much of their recorded history. Tales of who they were before they became elders was often fabricated and greatly exaggerated for effect. But standing in this room as the mere spectral image of one gazed at him with such killing intent. it filled him with the rare feeling of fear. What stood before him was not a being but a force of nature itself. Such power was something he had only ever felt twice before. He steeled himself, but the presence gave him no time to do so. It would not allow him a moment of reprieve.

  "Now elder, there is no need for that." The mirror in front of Antares vibrated as it broke. "You would do well to regard it is you who must remember who it is you're talking to. This is your King."

  The presence stopped forming itself and had begun to dissolve slowly. In their place, mirror pieces appeared out of the shadow reforming to reflect Antares.

  "King Antares, we have taken too much of your time. There is a celebration you must attend." The voice did not leave room for debate. "We do not believe there is a need for a Lord Commander with a Lord of War sitting on the throne. And another as Lord Regent. But we will still include General Guinevere in our consideration. Is this satisfactory?"

  Antares took a deep breath.

  "It is. Have a good evening, elders." Antares bowed as he left.

  "May the ancestors show us your favor." The voice returned as the mirrors faded back into the darkness.

  He was now alone in the room. The darkness was the only thing there with him. He adjusted his royal attire for the evening, recomposing himself. The purple and gold trims on his sleeved coat glimmered brightly. Stygian kingly attire was different to those of the royal garments. Its striking black that grabbed the attention of all in the room and shimmered with a cool glow. Antares liked the feel of his clothes, he once more ran a hand through his hair and left the room.

  He knocked lightly on her door. A moment passed and he did it again. He could hear shuffling inside but still waited for a response. It did not take him long to find her room. How many times had he walked these halls with her over the years? He knew this castle better than most, and so when he debated going straight to the celebration below or to see her, his legs had made the decision for him. So he hoped she would at least speak to him just once more before he became her king.

  "Come in," she said softly.

  Antares took a deep breath and opened the door. As he entered he was greeted with a lovely cinnamon sent. Her room had not changed much in the years since, it was spacious even more so than his. Weapons hung on the walls, different armors, some in good condition, others that had seen battles. On a table near the corner sat a frozen butterfly that he recognized. For he was the one that made it for her some decade or so ago. A sad smile came across his face, he hadn't thought she would still have it after all this time. He made his way across the room there stood in the center, a lovely dress suspended in the air.

  Antares approached the dress and studied its details, it seemed it was specifically made for her, it was a crimson red gown accented by bright orange lines running across the bottom. The lower half of the dress poured out like fire. The top was adorned with various metal wiring across the shoulders that held it together delicately. The waist of the dress sported a black silk cloth that ran around it. A ruby jewel was floating in between the shoulders of the dress. Where the wearer's neck would be. It was beautiful.

  He turned his gaze to the bed and moved over to one of the sides, and sat down. He moved the veiled covers and red hair spilled out all over him. He knew she was not asleep, he could hear her breathing. She buried herself in her blankets and had her back to him, Antares understood why she wouldn't want to see him.

  "Everyone is waiting." Antares began, "This is as much a celebration for me as it is for you."

  She said nothing.

  "I spoke to the elders." He could see her shrink further. "They are pleased with your actions today. There is consideration to make you Lord Commander."

  Guinevere remained silent. Now faced with the possibility of what she wanted, she felt unsure of what to do. The day had drained her, the deaths of Bracca and his family were only one of a myriad of things that filled her mind. But she felt shame not for their deaths or her hand in it. Her displeasure came from her brother not trusting her. The sending of Azariah was a painful sting to accept.

  "If this is about Azariah," began Antares.

  "Was it necessary?" she did not turn to face him. she could not bear to look into his eyes.

  Antares took a moment to answer. Had he responded too soon she would think him dismissing her question, take too long and she would begin to think he would perhaps lie.

  "Yes," he lied. "You know I would only ever do what was necessary." A soft hand placed on her shoulder, she relaxed slightly.

  Guinevere reached over her shoulder to grasp his hand. "I know, I...I just had to ask," she squeezed his hand. "I did not feel knightly today. I do not understand how the slaughter of women and children as necessary."

  "Their deaths were necessary to save Daimion's life. It was a message to all out there and down there." He tapped his feet on the floor. "The Stygians no longer sleep. We come back to claim what is ours."

  Antares hoped his words at the very least if they could not reach his sister, they would reach the general within her. He could not have Guinevere doubt her belief in him, not so soon after his return. He chastised himself for ignoring his instincts and Casspien. Guinevere was not ready for such a test. His desire to show the elders and all those around him that Gwen was a worthy general proved to be wrong for his eagerness now cost him.

  "I am sorry for sending Azariah. It was not that I did not trust you, I wished to protect you." Antares said softly, pulling his hand away.

  "You were not here to protect me over the last five years." Antares lowered his head in shame hearing the words from his sister. She turned over to look at him. Sitting up. "Yet here I remain, whole all the same."

  She caressed the side of his cheek and ran her hand through his hair. His beautiful face glowed in the dim candle light of her room, mahogany skin cleared of any imperfection. His snake earrings sparkled as they reflected the light. She wondered how he could be even more handsome now than he was all those years ago. His soft smile melted her heart and with it any doubts she had for her brother. She knew all he did was to protect her, it is what he had always done.

  "I know you mean well, you always have. But I need you to trust me, not as a sister, but as a warrior and knight. Let me be your blade," she pleaded.

  Antares smiled gently and kissed Guinevere on the forehead. She tried as she might to hide her flustered expression but she could not. He stood up and stretched.

  "Very well, sister." He said walking towards the door. "Do well to not disappoint me my blade."

  "You will not ask me to attend?" she called back after him.

  "If you do not want to, you do not have to. I can give you that much freedom, can I not?" he laughed as he left her room. "Goodnight little Guinevere."

  "Goodnight my king," she responded falling back to bed.

  A smile came across Gwen's face as she giggled to herself. She was glad he came to see her, she could not bring herself to go to him when she returned. Thoughts of the day swirled around her head, her battle with Bracca, and the welcoming of blood she saw covered the streets of Akkad. Many people had died today but as her brother had said, it was all for the protection of Daimion and the crown. She better than most was aware of the corruption that poisoned her home. Something took root after their father lost his first wife and never let go. A cloud of darkness hung over her family. But as she lay there as sleep washed over her eyes. She could not help but wonder what if that poison also took root in her king as it did their father? For as all knew, Antares was the one to watch the first queen die.

  "He is late." Casspien groaned, tapping his finger against his drink.

  "He did say it would be a while." The tall man next to him grinned, sipping his drink. "You know how the elders are. They're just upset he acted without their approval."

  "That's my concern," Casspien finished the last of his drink. "They are not known for being reasonable when they are upset."

  He looked out across the vibrant main hall as guests gathered and mingled. It had been years since he last saw the castle halls like this filled with people. Colors danced as the garments worn by the guests ranged from Stygian black, purple and gold to exotic colors seen from further south of Aurum. The high ceilings within the castle allowed for light to be placed further up than most structures. The light beams bounced off the colored glass that acted as windows and bathed the room in a warm glow. Music carried laughter throughout the air from various people. Warriors, scholars, commonfolk, nobility, all mingled in the hall. Here their differences meant little, this is where alliances were formed, weddings were made and money was spent. Those who understood the value of the celebration were quick to work, moving from one group to another. As Casspien watched them all from the distance, he felt disdain.

  "Smile Casspien," the tall man said, motioning his slender finger into a smile across his face. "Everyone is far too scared to approach us."

  "Good." Casspien snapped his fingers and out of the crowd a servant brought him a second drink. "I don't have time for pointless praise."

  "It is just a celebration."

  "Siegfried..."

  He raised his hands in surrender, "Alright, I yield." He folded his arms and grinned.

  Siegfried cut a towering appearance. He was one of the few people who did not have to completely look up to speak to Typhon. He did not have the giant Stygians frame, but his slender constitution was not a fragile one. His broad shoulders gave him a commanding presence that easily allowed him to fill whatever room he stepped into. He sported braided white hair that flowed all the way down to his shoulders. The golden bands tightly held them together, much like Casspiens. The shaved sides of his head gave his hair the appearance of spikes on a dragon's back. Such a striking appearance was complimented with a fine face, soft and beautiful, like all Stygians. But unlike the cold indifferent beauty that most Stygians carried. Siegfried was youthful and full of life. His violet-navy eyes carried within them sparks of yellow flames. His eyes looked onward with hopeful determinism. One need not talk to him to know he was a kind man.

  Although none would dare approach the two Lords of War without their permission, many could not help but steal glances at them. For their feats throughout the years were spoken of as the stuff of legends. Siegfried especially drew the gaze of plenty women who were in attendance. Most did not care for the truth in his tales. But they could all agree when they spoke of his beauty, the bards did not embellish when it came to Siegfried Xerxes.

  "I see you have some admirers in the audience this evening," Casspien cracked a sparse smile.

  "I am happily married," Siegfried waved his hand dismissively. "And I have three lovely children to show for it."

  "When has that ever stopped anyone?" A rare anecdote from the Lord Regent.

  "Besides they would admire you too, if you managed to learn how to express emotion." Siegfried added.

  Casspien rolled his eyes, "I do express emotion."

  "Being banal is not an emotion." Siegfried lightly jabbed his dear cousin.

  They both shared a laugh. Despite his apprehension and disdain for large celebrations like this. Casspien was glad that it allowed him the opportunity to see those he rarely had the time to talk with. One such person was Siegfried who along with his family lived all the way in the western edges of Iliad past the ancient city of Kish, in a town called Euphrates. Siegfried was the Lord of the town and the surrounding area. And as such was far too busy to regularly come this far east. So Casspien savored such meetings with great glee. It had been years so there was much for them to talk about. Of all the Lords of War that were created well over a decade ago. Outside of Antares and Nykolas, Casspien found it easiest to speak with Siegfried. His cool temperament and wise nature often allowed him insight into a different mind than his but similar in the ways that mattered most.

  "And what of your family? I hope all is well?" Casspien turned to him.

  Siegfried smiled, "It is. They are all I could have ever asked for, brother."

  "I am glad," Casspien said content.

  "You know, you need only ask. There are plenty of suitors for you. I talk about you constantly." Siegfried nodded as he cycled through the various candidates he had for Casspien.

  The young Lord Regent raised his glass protectively, "I do not have time for such things."

  "You know you are allowed to be happy."

  "Happy huh?" Casspien repeated the words, foreign in his mouth. The taste unfamiliar to him. A memory in the distance caught his eyes and in it Siegfried could see a great sadness. "I think the rest of us left that to you." A soft smile came across his face.

  Siegfried was prepared to protest but his voice was quickly drowned out by the appearance of the king to be atop the highest staircase. All turned to look as Antares looked back down upon them. The air was fervent, all waited with baited breath watching to see what he would do. Antares scanned across the crowd until his eyes rested on Casspiens in the corner. He bowed and in unison the crowd did too. Antares raised a hand in acknowledgement and the festivities resumed. As he approached the foot of the stairs the crowd moved towards him. Various noble kin and human alike shook his hand offering praise and congratulations. Barons and dukes swore allegiance and fealty. Baroness's and Dames hinted at their chastity being unclaimed. They swarmed him all with their wishes and desires, and through it all Antares saw them all for what they were; distractions. But no matter, he would use them. He would rebuild what his father let destroy, what his brother let destroy. Tonight he would look upon their faces and they would no longer see a prince, but a king.

  Casspien looked on as Antares was surrounded by guests pledging themselves. He wondered what Antares felt in that moment, he turned his attention to the musicians playing in the corner. The magic they used to bring instruments to life left a pleasant smell in the air. He hung on to each note playing and followed along closely. Such soft music held his attention for some time, his thoughts carried him back to his childhood.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Was I keeping you?" Antares said with a warm smile.

  Casspien returned one in kind. "It is not much of a celebration if the guest of honor is not here." He bowed politely.

  "Oh come now, none of that." Antares stopped himself realizing who bowed next to Casspien. "Siegfried?"

  Before he could offer congratulations Antares embraced Siegfried with frightening speed. He was taken aback by his cousin's lack of action befitting a king. Siegfried had always been grateful for them being friendly. Their childhood was a harsh one save for moments they spent together. It was lost on none, not even Siegfried himself that his continued existence was at the whim of King Barranagan for much of his life. He was glad the king to be would be someone he did not have to fear.

  "What is all this for?" Siegfried said laughing. "This is not the action of a king."

  "I am not king yet cousin, allow me this night at least." Antares responded, while putting Siegfried down. "It is good to see you."

  He nodded his head in agreement. "And you Ant." He flashed a look at the crowd and they returned to their conversations, knowing to give them room to talk . "I am sorry for not attending the late king's funeral."

  Antares waved his hand dismissively. "Do not even bother with that," he placed a hand on his shoulder. "He got the end that he wanted. I am satisfied with that."

  Siegfried was about to plead his case when from through the crowd a young boy ran without a care in the world. The child sported a similar look to Siegfried down to the style of hair. His clothes might have once looked regal, but the scars of playing in the castle courtyards were far too apparent to ignore. Across his face a wild grin, he ran into Siegfried arms and he picked him up.

  "Dad!" the boy yelled as Siegfried spun him around.

  "Kai, you troublemaker." He ruffled his son's hair. "Aren't you supposed to be with your mother?"

  As though on que stepped forth Kai's mother, Siegfried's wife, Himari Xerxes. Despite being of common birth, the woman carried herself with the presence of one of noble blood. She dressed in matching attire with Siegfried, both wearing Stygian noble garments with an embroiled dragon haori. Her tan skin gave way to an oval face full of features only found in Ichika, the allied realm to the west. Her long black hair was straightened all the way down to her waist. And chestnut colored eyes were vibrant and alive. Himari was beautiful, even still now as she carried a bump, her fourth child on the way with her husband. The other children followed close behind, hugging their mothers clothes.

  "There you are!" Himari exclaimed. "Siegfried tame your son or I will have the stable boys do so." Himari placed both hands on her swollen belly, her expression one full of annoyance.

  "Oh? Look who's improved their tongue in the old ways." Antares gave Himari a sly look. "You sound like a native. I could almost understand you this time."

  Himari wagged a finger at Antares, "You. You are not king yet, do not test my patience."

  Antares raised his hands in defense and they all started laughing. It had been ages since all four of them last saw each other. The times had barely aged them, still each of them experienced so much. Antares was glad Siegfried and Himari had the family they always wanted. To see them now and his nieces and nephew he was glad to have had this celebration. No doubt he would continue to meet others he held dear. Siegfried placed Kai back down on the floor.

  "All right children, introduce yourselves to your uncle," he motioned to Antares and the children hesitated. They looked to their mother for further approval and she nodded softly.

  Kai fidgeted with his clothes, the previous child full of energy and wonder hid now exposed to the towering presence of his king. He summoned what little courage he had to impress his father.

  "M-my king, my name is Kai." he bowed awkwardly and Antares laughed. "Nice to meet you."

  Antares lowered himself until his eyes met Kai's. He patted his head gently. It filled him with joy to know that Siegfried had a son, that when they became Lord of Wars their lives were not over. That duty would not be the only thing they would ever be beholden to, Kai was proof that there was more for them.

  "It is a pleasure to meet you Kai," a beaming smile flashed across his face. "You look so much like your father."

  Kai blushed at the compliment. Antares turned to the other two children next to Himari and they introduced themselves as Phoebe Xerxes and Yui Xerxes. Both daughters resemble their mother in different ways. Their temperament being reserved, amused Antares, he no doubt knew that was due to Himaris' doing. She far better represented Stygian nobility than some Stygian nobles themselves. Although not as shy as Kai, both of them offered hugs which Antares accepted gladly.

  Casspien smiled to himself. He was glad Antares was home, though he never perhaps fully expressed those beliefs to him. He hoped his constant nagging on having the celebration was proof enough of his joy of having him home. They had been lost for so long, swept up by the responsibilities of their duties, but now for the first time in a long time. Casspien hoped this celebration would show Antares that there was a future worth living for. That there were people who they needed to protect. He wanted the young king to regain his belief and purpose in not only himself but Casspien as well. All was not lost and Antares could guide them, save them.

  Antares spoke with Himari and Siegfried for some time. As they regaled him with their time in the town of Euphrates and all that went on that far west. As he listened to them in the back of his mind he recalled how much they both meant to each other. Some part of him was envious at their love for he once experienced what they shared. But circumstances could not allow it to bloom to fruition. Nevertheless, to see his cousin have the life that he so desperately fought for he was happy for him. A large grin crossed Antares face as they spoke. When he looked at Siegfried and his family, they were the future that he envisioned for Iliad. And now he saw that future all too clearly.

  "Alright come along children," Himari, motioned to her little ones. "Your father has much to discuss with the king."

  "Can't I stay?" Kai begged looking at Antares and Siegfried.

  "Well I am sure-" began Antares before he caught Himari's devilish glare. He cleared his throat. " I am sure you should listen to your mother little one. One day soon you will join us in our conversations."

  "But father!" Kai turned to his father with puffed cheeks.

  Siegfried nodded his head, doing his best not to meet the eyes of his wife for fear of death, or worse. "Now the king has spoken. Listen to your mother, my son."

  Kai grumbled and went along. All his life he had heard those around him claim his father to be as strong as Antares and some even saying he was stronger. But he wondered how strong his father truly was, when he showed such fear in the presence of his mother. And now even king Antares showed that same fear. He did not know his mother to be a great warrior, but she must have been for her to make them feel that way. As he passed her Himari looked back at the men cheerfully and began on her way. Siegfried grabbed her, placed a hand on her swollen belly and kissed her. And with that Himari and the children disappeared into the crowd leaving the three men to continue their conversation.

  "Has she always been that scary?" Antares asked.

  "Yes." Siegfried and Casspien said in unison. The former with a smile on his face and the latter with distress.

  "Now that I have you both here. I spoke with Azariah and he told me of what happened with Guinevere." Antares rubbed his chin interested to hear what they both had to say.

  "It was nearly a disaster." Casspien began, "As I said it would be."

  "Come now Casspien, she fought not just Bracca but his siblings and their men." Siegfried said, championing Guinevere. "It was a commendable feat."

  "And her decision to spare the boy and the rest of the family?"

  Siegfried chuckled, "She is a knight. I'm surprised you would expect anything less from her."

  "I do not." Casspien said matter of fact. "But he does." They both turned to Antares.

  The crown prince sighed he knew Casspien was holding back from speaking his true feelings. Siegfried tried as he might support Guinevere. But Antares was aware her inability to go through with what he asked of her, ordered her to do was somewhat unsettling. If not for Azariah's presence, Lord Omiros and Aldios may have escaped. Or worse yet, returned to the city looking for absolution. But still, Antares did not wish to put any blame on Guinevere.

  "The fault lies with me," he began. "You are right to be upset Casspien." He lowered his eyes.

  Casspiens expression softened. "I do not blame you or am I upset. Guinevere is a knight, Antares. She is sworn to a code to uphold honor and justice for all. To be your blade, your Lord Commander is a position that is honor less and exists to carry out your justice. You wish to make her into something she is not."

  A moment of silence passed and Casspien continued.

  "And I know you know this too. Because you would not have asked Azariah to watch over her. You can use me, you can use Siegfried or Typhon, or any of the others. It is why we were made. But she is different. As king you must learn how to wield all of us differently."

  Antares allowed Casspien's words to worm their way into his head. He understood the gravity of what he asked of Guinevere and in some ways the danger he placed upon her shoulders. As a Lord of War there was no task he could not do, no task that was too great. It was one of the many things about himself that he learned early on during his ritual. He could not afford to look upon those who served him with the same eyes. Before him was a necessary example of what could go wrong. It was a mistake he made, and one he vowed never to make again. He would never put Guinevere in such a position that she needed to wrestle with her duties as a knight. There was still so much for him to learn about himself, about ruling. And he was glad that Casspien was here to help him. As the days went on, Casspien continued to prove to him why he was right to make him his Lord Regent. With him by his side Antares slowly found confidence in himself again.

  "I understand," the young prince acknowledged. "I will not make this mistake again."

  "You will," Siegfried chimed in place a hand over his shoulder. "But you will have Casspien here to guide you when you can't guide yourself," a warm smile came across his face.

  Antares smiled.

  The celebrations continued long into the night. It was often an affair that was meant to stretch until early hours leading to the crowning ceremony. The night dragged on as the large crowd moved through different halls. Castle Xerxes was constructed to house the egos of its various rulers, hence why each room the guests walked into felt as though they stepped into a different castle. Each hall felt as though one was stepping into a divergent point in history, a distinct time. Such magnificent architecture highlighted the beauty that was Stygian culture. Each of these great kings and queens of their time engraved their mark within these hallowed halls. This was not just a celebration of the monarch to be, but of all those who came before. The songs the bards sang was a testament to this. Songs of great Stygian monarchs all who had walked these halls. Even the bards themselves sang of how this night would echo throughout history. Chandelier lights floated high above as fire danced in their reflections. The party had moved to one of the several dining halls. Here guests who had spent the long night getting acquainted with each other, would put the final touches on any alliances formed; sharing a meal. The king to be would address those congregated here in his honor, spoil them with words of power and wisdom. Give them purpose. The marble walls were adorned with portraits of various Stygian rulers, many famous for their tales sung in these very halls. The smell of various meats and drinks mixed in the air. A true feast was about to commence. The guests settled into their seats. There he stood in the doorway, facing them.

  They all sat with anticipation, even those who had merely ever caught a glimpse of him were transfixed at the appearance he cut. He was the spitting image of his father and the same air of arrogance his father carried, he did so too. He made his way towards the kings table, a thousand eyes following him, burning his every action into their minds eye. They would tell stories of this night for centuries to come, a millennia and more. He walked up the steps and looked across to see members of his family sitting in their respective seats. Casspien and Typhon were to be found next to him, both men giving him an acknowledging nod. The chair next to his empty, for if he had a Queen she would sit there. Faye crossed his mind for a moment. Lady Alena, Xenon, Siegfried, Daimion and their families and Anastasia's murderous glare round out the remaining seats. Guinevere's' was empty next to Ana's. He stopped at the table and looked at Daimion. Antares did not hide the look of disappointment he had in his younger brother and his wife. Both of them were unable to meet his eyes. All the same Daimion forced himself up, and approached his brother. He turned to face the onlookers.

  "I-I would like to thank my brother for his mercy." He swallowed hard, the words hurting him as he spoke. "I was confused... My desire to protect our home forced me to align with those who would exploit my naivety. I brought shame to my family, to my people and for that it is only right I do not accept the regency. Instead Lord Casspien should be the one to lead alongside my brother."

  A stunned look came across Casspien's face. He did not think Antares would be so bold as to announce it so suddenly. They exchanged looks and Antares nodded in support. Casspien would have responded in kind but Typhon had swarmed him with congratulations. Cheers rang out throughout the hall. The people were familiar with Casspien and his many achievements, his tales were often sung across many towns. Their glasses raised in the air as three cheers for Casspien rang out. Casspien managed to wring free of Typhon and bowed deeply first towards Antares and secondly towards the crowd. Daimion stumbled back to his seat and slunk into his chair, Cirella tried to no avail to comfort him.

  The night was filled with Daimion prostrating himself amongst the crowd. So many had he scorned and belittled over the last years, so many did he have to admit his faults to. Cirella burst into their chambers with tears running down her face. Her conversation with his brother left her needing safety. Daimion would have challenged his brother for leaving his wife in such a state but through tear filled sobs, she told him all of which they spoke. Cirella told Antares the truth and the names of those who would conspire against him. In return she and her husband were the only ones allowed to live. The night was in many ways a celebration for many, but for one it served as humiliation. To reduce the young prince to nothing but a bumbling buffoon who was led by greedy vile Stygians and merchant humans no less was a great suffering Daimion could not swallow. He sat there in his seat glaring at his silver plate before him. His reflection twisted and unrecognizable. He did not need to look at the audience to know they snickered and mocked him. This was a slight by his brother he would not recover from. Decades would be required for his opinion in the royal court, or in any court to carry favor ever again. He fought back tears.

  Antares looked to Lady Alena for guidance, for what he was about to do, what he was about to embark on would change their lives. In this room here the first lines of a new history would be written. Her sunset eyes looked back into his, burning with a purplish glow. She did not have to speak for her words to reach him. She had always believed in him. He was the son of Barranagan Xerxes, that was enough. The blood of king's flowed through him, that was enough. In his absence he would rule, he would be enough. Antares whispered his fathers name to himself, both a prayer and a battle cry. He turned to face his subjects.

  "Eight years ago I took both of my uncle's lives." He examined his hands, remembering the sensation of their blood. "I sat there covered in it, not sure whose blood I was covered in. The feeling of taking the life of people I called kin was not foreign to me. I thought their deaths would fill me with sadness, cloud my mind, but it did not. In that darkness I saw purpose, I saw the path forward."

  Murmurs began to break out within the crowd. The events of the Storm Islands rebellion were well documented. Twin Storm Lords and older brothers to the late Queen Myrra, Magni and Modi led an uprising. They refused to accept Antares as Lord King of Iliad and their home. They already had cursed him for being named a Storm Lord despite being a Stygian. Emboldened by the flames of victory over Barranagan Xerxes a decade earlier. In an attempt to avenge the death of their sister. Their violence was snuffed out by a nineteen year old Antares and the other Lords of War. Four of them made their way to the Storm Islands. And a bloodbath ensued. To hear him speak, the fabled young warrior of legend. They hung on his every word.

  "My fathers indecisiveness has allowed for other realms to look at us as a bygone era. He stood upon the scorched Fields of Asphodel holding the head of the mad Emperor Dioxeyes. Millions kneeled at his feet, shouting his name to the heavens. With the power to unite the nine realms once more for the first time in ten thousand years. He rejected his purpose, abandoning Aurum to her madness."

  Lady Alena looked at the crowd, hiding her concern as best as she could. Antares brashness was a risk, especially so soon after his fathers passing. From where she sat, she could see confusion come across the crowd. There were those who did not know how to react, yet still as many remained stoic and unmoving. Some amongst them nodded their heads agreeingly. That was enough to give her some calm. Her son's words were beginning to resonate. Antares was being heard.

  "And what has happened in the hundred years since such cowardice?"

  The crowd did not have time to react to such blasphemy, for Anastasia did so for them. Such piercing hatred emanated from her and she stood up blowing her chair back. The youngest child of Barranagan would not allow such insolence to be spoken, not about her father, not even from her own brother. A chill ran throughout the crowd, she may have only been eighteen years old but many in the audience feared Anastasia. The warden of White Mountain and Queen of the Nightsisters was not one to be taken lightly. Beauty so striking even now as she glared at her brother with the intensity of the wildest storms, many drawn to her sable skin and snow white hair.

  "You see?" Antares pointed at his youngest sister not missing a beat. "I only speak what has been said, by those in the south and some of you here in this very room. And still my sister reacts with such anger. For even such words spoken by her own brother, her king necessitates violence. Too long have we slept, ignoring Aurum as those around us circled and fed upon our idleness. Our voices are unheard. When the Jade Empire turned the shores of Ichika and Hathor to oceans of red. Who was it that halted the Samsara? When the Empire of The Four Kings of Man sought to eat the stars. Who was it that blackened the night sky hiding them? Every threat to Aurum has been faced by us. Stopped by us."

  More heads were nodding, Stygian and human alike. It was only here in Iliad did they live in such harmony, through the millennia their differences dissolved all in service of the throne. House Xerxes stood tall, and all in the crowd here today were remembering that. Anastasia, sat back down her chair brought to her by a servant. Lady Alena gripped her armrest. Antares was close, the crowd swept up in his aura. She herself focused on his words. For all their similarities Antares and his father had one glaring difference, Antares had ambition.

  "I will not abandon you, never again. My reign will not be marked with quelling dissidents within my realm, no. I am beyond that. What I will be remembered for is fixing a mistake, my forefathers and those like them have made. I seek to right a ninety thousand year false step. I seek the return of the Nine Grimoires of Nyx and with it control of our destiny."

  What he had said was an impossibility. And yet the thunderous applause rang out like wildfire. Hundreds rose to their feet, cheering with renewed jubilation and fervor. He spoke the words many of them wished to hear. The words they carried in their hearts for many of them, for centuries. What Antares had done was give them purpose once more. His name echoed throughout the halls with such force the glass windows shook with anticipation. Antares looked upon his audience with a deterministic look, even still a smile escaped his lips. Iliad would no longer be resigned to fade into history like so many hoped both within and outside her borders. He would not let her, there was still much of his plans he did not reveal, not to them, not to anyone. He would succeed where so many before had failed. The elders and the ancestors would not shape their future. It would be done by his hands.

  Typhon sat on the cold obsidian steps leading out of the castle. His massive frame covering at least a third of the steps. In one hand he held a bottle of aged Stygian wine, the other he used to support his head. He took a large swig of the drink which he held between his large fingers. Thoughts of the night and Antares words swam through his head. He looked out across the courtyard as various wagons came and went. The celebrations were still carrying on inside, but some had decided to end their night. Sunrise was a few hours away, he knew himself he would not sleep this night. How could he? The speech Antares gave electrified him, filled him with power.

  "Don't look so fucking grim." Xenon snatched the bottle from Typhon. "Isn't this what we've been waiting for our whole lives?"

  He was right, Typhon thought. Though he did not want to admit it, most of all to Xenon.

  "He is scared," Azariah took the bottle from Xenon. "Now he actually has to prove himself against real warriors. Not those Islanders anymore."

  Typhon grumbled. He hated how well Xenon and Azariah got along. He had hoped he would be able to ignore their presence but their incessant need to talk proved far too difficult an endeavor to execute.

  "Aza, Xenon, stop making fun of him," called Siegfried at the top of the stairs.

  Azariah quickly stood up and bowed as Siegfried approached with Casspien carrying a crate of wine bottles.

  "Lord Siegfried, I-I thought you would be asleep." Azariah tried hiding the bottle behind him.

  Siegfried proudly displayed the bottles of wine he had brought for them all. His beaming smile lit up an atmosphere that had begun to dampen.

  "I wanted to drink with my friends," he said extending a bottle to Azariah.

  "Since when were we all friends?" Xenon responded by snatching the bottle from Siegfried.

  "Not tonight," Casspien glared at his brother.

  "Please, join us." Azariah said, not hiding his angered expression as Xenon drank the wine meant for him.

  "I would have thought you both would still be inside." Typhon said, making room for Casspien.

  "Only so many ways you can say 'thank you' before it loses its meaning,

  "Casspien sighed. He opened a bottle of wine and downed half the bottle. He then passed it to a laughing Typhon.

  They all sat there for some time drinking in silence. Words were not needed amongst them. Their shared history was enough to fill the space. Long ago in their youth they were once considered outcasts by their people. Even though they were regarded as princes in their own right. But King Barranagan came to them. Offered each of them the opportunity to become something, to become more. And they took his hand. A lifetime later, they sat atop the steps of the greatest castle throughout the nine realms as Lords of War. The greatest protectors of their people. They could feel it in their very bones, when the sun arose. It would be the birth of a new age, and much would be asked of them by Antares. And once again they would answer his call.

  "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Aster, Lyrik or Kyron, with you Xenon. Why did they not accompany you?" Siegfried asked, finishing his second drink. The effects are already hitting him.

  "Same reason you left dumb and dumber back home, light weight." Xenon said laying back on the steps. "Can't leave the nest unattended."

  "Their names are Zephyr and Leander." Azariah snapped.

  "You say it like I asked." Xenon closed his eyes trying to sleep. "His speech was nice, but there are still dangers within our borders. Lord Regent, isn't it your job to advise him on that?"

  "I do not start on the job until after the ceremony. Give me a break." Casspien answered, while he drank his fourth bottle. Both brothers shared a rare laugh together.

  "Five years we were forced into the shadows." Typhon began, "Now with him back we can truly change things. Save our people."

  "Save people?" Xenon snickered. "Don't group me with yourselves. I'm doing this for the money."

  "You are a disgrace." Azariah chimed in.

  "Hey Casspien, doesn't he sound like father?"

  "He is missing a few more insults. But he is getting there." the new Lord Regent added.

  For the second time tonight the half-brothers shared a rare laugh. Which for Azariah did not bode well.

  "Yes we will succeed, we have no choice." Siegfried followed Xenon's lead and laid back.

  "None of you are concerned about what the southerners will say? They still perceive us negatively, even after a millennia." Azariah reminded them.

  "What will it matter in a thousand years?" Xenon looked at Azariah, the moonlight overhead illuminated the purplish red sun that swirled in his eyes. "When the realms are united and Antares is Emperor of Aurum. When thousands upon hundreds of thousands are born knowing only one ruler. What will it matter?"

  The cool night air blew softly resting upon the silence that hung after Xenon's words. They all knew he was right. The average lifespan of a Stygian was a thousand years and it eclipsed the measly average of two hundred and fifty years that was the human lifespan. Once they achieved their goals they simply had to outlive the survivors and they could rewrite the future to change the past. That was the true purpose of the Grimoires of Nyx. It gave whoever wielded the complete set the ability to see all pasts and all possible futures. The greatest treasure Aurum had, a weapon sought by all. Yet each one of the nine grimoires were held by each of the nine realms. The alliances Iliad had with Ichika, Avalon and Laconia, would grant it four of the nine grimoires. The true test would come from how they took the grimoires from the southern realms.

  "He is right." Siegfried stated, "We can worry about what people think when it is all over."

  "We cannot fail him." Casspien stated.

  "We will not." Typhon assured.

  Crowning rituals differed throughout the nine realms. In Avalon one could only be crowned King if they managed to retrieve the One Sword from the Lake of Tears. In Ichika the King was selected through several trials, each meant to discern the worthy from the unworthy. All nine realms approached the search for a true monarch differently. Even for the Storm Islands, where rituals were carved into their very way of life, succession was not a simple task. To be crowned was to be accepted as the singular force capable of willing an entire nation to action, to stand unopposed in the face of any threat. At least in most instances. It was no simple feat, perhaps why the rituals themselves all served to be large spectacles. But of all the crowning rituals that dominated Aurum, both those still carried out today and those forgotten in the halls of time. Even the southern realms would have to admit, no crowning ritual came close to the utter magnitude that was Iliad's.

  They had gathered long before the sun rose. It was meant to be a cool day but as they packed together so tightly, each one was able to feel the hot breath of the other. Beads of sweat poured down their faces. It was still dark outside and not much was discernable. Further towards the castle road people pushed and pulled their way, each of them wanting to get a good look. Akkad was a large city holding room for two million inhabitants, but on a day like this her size doubled. People from all corners of the realm made their way to the holy city. Many trekked for days on end without stopping in hopes of merely gazing upon Akkad during such a holy time. Stygian and human alike stood together in anticipation, full of bated breath. The last seven days were filled with unending celebrations. The praise and worship of Antares and good fortune for their people rang out for nearly a fortnight. Homes were decorated with the Stygian colors, and markings. There was no room to differentiate the divergent parts of Akkad for they were swarmed by millions of people. And they were all here for him.

  He exited the carriage at the end of the city. He examined all around as even this far removed from the city hundreds of thousands had still gathered. They studied him fearfully, some with desperation, many with reverence. Whenever he looked at them they prostrated themselves in great worship. Several Nightsisters exited the carriage after him. Their ceremonial garb completely masking their features. The various robes were bound tightly to their body, shades of black seeped in and out of their clothes. They spoke to him even though their mouths did not move. They told him to undress and he did so, throwing away the large blanket he wrapped himself in.

  He stood there nude, as the Nightsisters gazed upon his naked flesh. Each one approached him carefully. Their words were intelligible and still they reached him. Each Nightsister took to mark his body with various symbols and words. Their fingers were cold enough that even he could feel the biting frost. Energy surged through his body, he felt the magics written upon him begin to stir, he felt the ritual begin. They caressed his face, rubbed their hand over his body and threw themselves on him. Each time they touched him tiny explosions occurred across his flesh. The magics from the substance they rubbed on him took root. The first rays of the sun began to poke out behind him and Antares walked.

  It is said every action takes power, and all power is born from a desire to take action. A ritual repeated at a specific time heightens the level of potency of the energy created. No matter how inconsequential a ritual may look or seem. One that is maintained over ages will generate energy. That is one of the absolute laws of their world. A crowning ritual was no different. The power accumulated in the air was intoxicating. As Antares walked through the crowd tens of thousands of people reached for him. In him they saw their future, their survival, their God. For many this would be a journey they would never make again, they would return to their towns and villages with tales that would last centuries. As many looked upon Antares they shed tears of adoration. Hands reached out for him, none ever reaching him. In this moment surrounded by millions he felt the cold embrace of loneliness.

  He watched as the people around him no longer looked at him as an equal but instead as something greater than any of them. They called out to him, in different tongues. They used his name as a prayer, as mercy and as sacrifice. Such unquenchable desire was suffocating. Millions cleared a path for him, he walked unobstructed through the city streets. At every step he took, thousands gathered to pray at it. They were enchanted with his very presence. As the sun continued to rise he cut an elegant figure through the streets. There was no cause for embarrassment because his naked form did not bother him. His bared flesh was revered, even his genitals as it hung free. Sculptors and artists alike did well to remember the proportions and size of his manhood.

  As he reached the castle he looked up at the road ahead. Those who looked at him saw the somber face of a king, but within he felt a thousand emotions. Barely able to contain himself. Passing through the crowd he could hear all of their pleas and prayers. Thousands prayed to him for deliverance from suffering, and millions more did so with their hearts. The entire realm on its knees, save for Antares. He drowned in the image of a sea of corpses all dragging him below. Such intense magic he had not felt in ages. Blood dripped from his nose. He continued to walk as the tormenting was unrelenting. He had long lost sensation throughout his body by the time he reached the steps of the castle. Will power moved him alone. The voices of millions deafened him, robbing him of his sight. The only thought he clung to was that he could not stop. He could never stop. Each step he climbed, the heavier his feet felt. Although they could not see them, he was not alone. For within the crowds he alone could see the faces of those who did not belong. Long had they followed him from the city center whispering half truths and complete lies. They saw his reign in its entirety and they tried to lead him astray with what they knew.

  He doesn't know how he got there but he stands before a large room. On either side stand Casspien, Guinevere and the others. They look at him with worry and stoic apprehension. The innermost chambers of the castle, is where the ritual takes place. As he walks through his home, now foreign to him, it moves and changes to bring him to the sacred room. He places a hand on the marble doors. The symbol of his people frozen into it. Reacting to his touch, the doors open. He pulls himself through the doors as they close behind him. In the center of the room a large black pool, on the edges of it his language carved crudely. Every step he takes weighs him down significantly, as he reaches the shores of the black ooze. He cannot bear it anymore, the weight of countless souls, no mortal could do so. He screams internally but he dares not make a sound. Millions begging for salvation unable to escape the horrors they suffer. Children burn in the fires of a thousand wars all because of inaction. Ash falls like snow. And water tastes like sulfur. The collective suffering of his people over an innumerable amount of millennia floods his veins. He buckles under the pressure and falls head first into the black pit.

  He was pulled deeper into the black waters, deeper than he thought there was room within it. The crushing weight of numerous souls eased off his back, the pain lessening across his entire body. Eventually he felt nothing. Floating endlessly in the black abyss. And then he fell. He fell long and hard through nothing. The sensation like being pulled by a great force. He slammed hard into the floor. Struggling to pick himself up. There in the nothing surrounded by darkness, alone. Far from his home, from his ancestors. Where none could reach even if they dared. The lonely boy met the World Eater, the first Serpent and its thousand screaming faces. And it spoke to him.

  King Antares burst out of the pool reborn, covered in the darkness. A tar-like substance coated his skin. He looked around gasping for air, unable to recall how long he had been there or what he saw. His thoughts filled with an emptiness growing within him. Voices other than his own roaring for mercy as they faded to nothing but a whisper. Around him they all stood with baited breath, looking at him trying to discern any change. Guinevere looked at him in a way he had never seen before, Casspien too. Even Anastasia who for much of his return looked at him with nothing but hatred. But now in her as well, he could see a hint of lust wrapped in envy. He liked how it made him feel.

  The priestess approached from out of the crowd carrying a gilded crown adorned with crystalline jewels. The crown weaved together like two great serpents intertwining with each other. At various open points sparkled jewels rested softly in them. Both snakes wrapped around each other to rest back in the front ready to attack. Stygian steel folded so carefully the crown felt light in her hands. The eyes of both snakes were obsidian black. She placed the crown atop his head. She spoke of ancient prophecies and rites that are to be honored. She talked of what was to come. All of this she did in the common tongue, so for all to hear. Her words did not reach his ears, no words did anymore. He waited for what only mattered. She grabbed his face in her hand, the oozing tar bathed her fingers and she looked into his eyes. Golden rays hung low covered by purple storms. Screaming faces looked back defiantly.

  You are the one who will devour this mad world.

  Her blue eyes sparkled into his as she spoke to him. She spoke the old tongue, the words of his ancestors. Her words would be heard by only him. She talked about things to come and what this meant for their people. Her words spoke of the glorious future he would usher them to. He would return Aurum to what it once was. And his name would be carried across the oceans, to the furthest lands of new worlds. All of this she foretold and more. But he would not remember what she said. The spell she weaved into her words would make him forget, until the time he would need to remember. Just as She had asked of her. Her sermon went on for some time, but like all things they too ended. And she fell to her hands and knees, she exclaimed that he would never again kneel in front of another. King Antares rose covered in tar and a head of steel. The weight of his people meant nothing to him, the doors on the other side of the room opened. And the early morning sunlight burst through, illuminating the area. He raised his hand to shield himself from the light. The light hit in between his fingers and he studied it. His eyes adjusted to the light and he moved closer to the opened door. His every step calculated and weighted, the doorway was an opening to a large balcony that overlooked a massive courtyard. The backdrop of all of it, Akkad down below. Even those all the way at the bottom could see the balcony area. They all gathered and pushed to get close.

  As he walked through the door, the sun's rays finally passed over the mountain side, hitting his visage completely. The black tar reflected in the sunlight and his eyes burned brightly with power. The sun danced off the Stygian crown and it shimmered with energy. Thunderous applause shook the heavens. Cheers rang out in every direction, it was as though the entire city itself had come alive. The voices shook the very castle itself. Still he did not react. He looked upon his kingdom, his realm, and once more cheers shook the earth. They roared his name over and over. Drunk off the image of their King. Babies were raised towards him, men and women climbed over their shoulders, all to get a glimpse at him, to meet his eyes. Those here gathered would have a story to tell for ages, a holy rebirth unlike any other. The union of two cultures into one. His name rang even louder, their fervor reaching him so high. This intensity would carry on for some time, such energy could not easily be displaced. Pleasure parties would commence over the coming days as people found other ways to celebrate the birth of a new reign. As he breathed in the early air and sun, he studied them as they worshiped him. All of them absorbed in the action. King Antares felt like a God.