The throne room smelled of death
Ruvan stood barefoot on marble slick with blood. Bodies lay everywhere, twisted and broken at unnatural angles. Nobles wrapped in silks that now clung wet and red to lifeless flesh. Servants crumpled beside shattered pillars. Guards lay folded within their dented armor, swords still clutched in cold fingers
The Emperor's corpse slumped upon the throne. His head drooped sideways, mouth frozen in silent agony. Blood dripped from his neck stump down obsidian steps, pooling around the dais like a dark mirror
Moonlight poured through fractured stained glass, casting blue and silver shadows across ruined walls. Flickering braziers painted the blood in flickers of orange. The shadows along the walls seemed to breathe with him
He inhaled. Shadows curled around his ankles. Threads of sin flickered from each corpse before fading into his darkness. Memories brushed his mind. Whispers of betrayal traded for coins. Lust hidden beneath sacred robes. Poison slipped into goblets at royal banquets. Screams behind locked nursery doors
They tasted bitter. But they were his now
He walked forward slowly. Cold marble numbed the soles of his feet. Each step splashed through crimson pools. Shadows parted at his approach. He climbed the dais until he stood before the Emperor's corpse
He looked into the dead eyes. This was the man who ordered his mother dragged through the streets with chains around her neck. The man who laughed when his father's tongue was ripped out before the council. The man who forced him to kneel on gravel as a child until his knees bled black
He reached out and closed the Emperor's eyes with two fingers. The eyelids felt thin as paper. There was no triumph in his chest. Only silence
He turned away. The iron crown lay broken beside the throne. He bent down and picked up a twisted fragment. Its jagged edge sliced his palm open. Warm blood dripped down his wrist, mingling with stains that no longer belonged to anyone
He let the fragment fall. Its clatter rang through the ruined hall like a funeral bell
Footsteps rang beyond the shattered gates
He turned as a squad of imperial knights stormed into the throne room. Their armor gleamed beneath moonlight. They froze at the sight. Their Emperor dead. Nobles slaughtered. A barefoot boy wrapped in shadows standing among corpses
The first knight stepped forward. His voice cracked with fear as he raised his sword
Monster
Ruvan said nothing. Shadows rippled across his arms and shoulders. He raised his hand
Darkness erupted from beneath the knights. Tendrils shot upward, coiling around armored legs before blades could swing. Screams tore through the hall as metal crumpled under crushing force. Blood sprayed across broken tiles. When the shadows fell silent, twisted corpses slumped upon bloodstained marble
One knight remained. He stumbled back, sword shaking in his grip. His eyes darted from the Emperor's corpse to Ruvan
What are you
His voice broke with terror
Ruvan stepped forward. Shadows slithered around his feet
I am what you made me
He raised his hand. Darkness surged forward, wrapping around the knight's throat. Boots kicked against marble. Fingers clawed at invisible bindings. Veins darkened beneath his skin as shadows sank into his flesh. His eyes rolled back. His mouth opened in a silent scream before his body fell limp. Ruvan released him. The corpse collapsed upon stone with a dull thud
He lowered his hand. Shadows receded into the floor. Silence swallowed the hall once more
He turned to the throne. Blood pooled around its base. Slowly he climbed the steps and sat upon the obsidian seat. The cold stone pressed into his bones. Shadows gathered at his shoulders, weaving into a mantle that trailed down the steps
The hall lay before him in silent reverence. A kingdom of corpses. Their last prayers whispered to gods who never listened
He closed his eyes. Memories flickered in darkness. A boy beaten until his ribs cracked. A boy whipped until skin split from flesh. A boy forced to drink sewer water while nobles laughed. A boy praying to silent gods until his voice bled dry
No god saved him then. None would now
He opened his eyes. Dawn had begun to rise beyond shattered windows. Pale gold spilled across the ruined hall. Blood shimmered under its touch like rubies caught in black marble
A quiet laugh escaped his lips. The sun rose. Even when kings fell and empires rotted. Even when shadows swallowed gods and thrones alike. The sun rose. Indifferent
He stood. Shadows trailed behind him as he stepped down from the dais. Bare feet splashed through cooling blood. He walked past the corpses and shattered columns. Past overturned braziers still smoldering with dying embers. He walked through the broken gates into the silent courtyard
The cold air brushed his bloodstained skin. He paused at the balcony overlooking the imperial capital. Rooftops stretched before him bathed in dawn's pale glow. Threads pulsed faintly through streets and towers weaving like veins through stone and flesh. Each flicker revealed sleeping hearts unaware of the darkness rising to claim them
He inhaled slowly
Mercy is for gods. And there are no gods here
He stepped forward into the dawn. Shadows curled around his ankles like loyal hounds. The empire waited. He would teach them fear
And he would start with the last prince hiding beneath temple walls. He would drag him out by his golden hair and rip the coward's heart from his chest before the entire city. He would grind priests into silent stains upon marble altars. He would split open nobles and let the crows feast upon secrets rotting within their bellies
He would burn their banners. Salt their palaces. Collapse their libraries into dust. He would scatter their bones into nameless graves and carve new prayers from their screams
He would not be their king
He would be their sin
The dawn touched his face with gentle warmth. Shadows rose behind him like a stormcloud as he began to walk
The empire waited
And he would become the fear etched into their bloodlines for generations yet unborn