???, Underground Meeting, Present

  A large round table sits eight. Other than the table, the room presents a dark environment, with the only source of light being that from a campfire in the middle of one long wall of the rectangular room. On the other wall is the door with stairs leading down to it. Three people are present, sitting around the table in no particular order: Venus adjusts his tie, Mars sits quietly and prepares his infiltration, and Pluto clutches a bag of crystals.

  Venus speaks first. "He's taken 40% of the country in three hours. Where is everyone?"

  "Sol remains on his mission," Mars says calmly. "Mercury died to the boy days ago; I don’t know how that boy managed to kill him. Saturn as well. Both gone. Dead." Mars’ voice carries no remorse but now grows to anger. “Both of them died in their specialized area: Mercury trapped the boy in a room and killed his friend while Saturn was naturally hidden by the darkness of the cave. It is apparent Sol made a mistake in picking those two; they could not accomplish anything if their life depended on it.”

  The door opens. In walks Neptune.

  “You too,” Mars says, keeping his same disgusted tone but turning to look at Neptune. “I saw the news. You looked so clueless as that boy sliced your head off.”

  “Yes,” the interrogator Neptune replies. “I wasn’t being careful. However, it seems like we now have bigger problems. Another one has joined; his name is Almajara.”

  “What do you mean ‘another one’ as if there was ever one to contest us? Niche is being monitored constantly. We have not let the situation grow out of control, and with our process it will never be too difficult to handle. Didn’t Sol tell to track the sun bearer anyways? How have you been completing your assignment?"

  Neptune leans back in his chair. "My son. He has brought me a great deal of information about that sun bearer."

  "Your son?" Mars asks.

  "Yes. He is friends with Niche. Close friendship provides better intel than any surveillance." Neptune's voice stays flat. "He's been quite helpful. I’ve learned just about everything about the bearer’s tendencies."

  The other empty seats bear nameplates, with Sol's throne towering above all. His plate sits at the head of this table, but he is nowhere to be seen. Mercury and Saturn's seats have black ribbons, while Jupiter's seat is simply dusty from absence.

  Mars asks hesitantly, “Isn’t that kind of messed up to use your son like that?”

  "We must get back to the business at hand. Stop getting off track, Mars.” Neptune looks around the room at the table. “Sol is still gone, huh? And Jupiter does as he pleases, as always," Neptune adds, rolling his eyes and sitting down in his seat. "That 'Boss' never follows protocol.”

  "Then we four must handle this." Venus's fingers twitch. "We may not be able to kill the boy, but he can be destroyed politically."

  Mars nods. "I’ll trap his mind."

  "And I'll become him," Venus adds. "Make Almajara so despised—"

  "Who leads the resistance? Saturn's dead," Pluto interrupts, crystals clinking in his bag.

  "I'll play both parts if needed," Venus assures. "This ends tonight."

  Neptune leans in his chair. "He knows I'm immortal. There was something in that boy’s eyes when he walked over to me…it was like it was telling me, ‘this isn’t over, I’m sure of it.” I felt like he knew I wasn’t going to die. This could be superstition, but I feel like he knows about all of us."

  "Then we move fast," Mars stands. "I'll infiltrate as an advisor. Tonight, the alias Almajara dies in disgrace."

  Niche walks into the dimly lit meeting room. The Vestige Court members freeze mid-conversation.

  "I heard some murmur from up there and I got FOMO, so I came down here,” Almajara says, his face looking completely bored. “Why is it so dark in here?" He looks around casually, like he wandered in by accident. "Who are you guys again?” he asks, flipping on a light switch that illuminates the room, making it look like an office room. “Like, what do you do here? I saw you on my payroll for more than all of the other employees combined. My payroll says I need to pay this whole ‘Vestige Court’ section – which I assume are you bums - more than my other expenses combined. Why the hell do you get paid so much? Are you guys like HR or something?" Almajara asks, chuckling.

  Venus recovers first. "This is a private meeting. You need to leave."

  "Private?" Niche squints at Neptune. "Hey, aren't you...? What are you doing here?"

  Neptune's jaw tightens. The others exchange glances.

  "And you—" Almajara points at Venus. "You look familiar too. Do I know you from somewhere?"

  Jupiter mutters, "How did he even find—"

  "Is this like a club or something?" Niche interrupts, walking further in. "Pretty fancy setup for a basement meeting. Looking real official."

  Mars materializes wisps, ready to trap him. Venus raises a hand to stop him.

  "Who even are you anyway?" Venus asks, feigning ignorance.

  "Oh shit, forgot to introduce myself." Niche grins. "So, yeah. I'm Almajara, your ruler. And…right now I am disbanding this meeting. All of you, go…home or something. Eh, you probably live here in this basement anyways.”

  Jupiter laughs. "Our ruler? Kid, do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

  "Some shadow government corruption ring meeting in a basement?" Niche shrugs. "Pretty stereotypical honestly."

  "You can't 'disband' us," Neptune says carefully. "We're not some student council."

  "No, but you operating in my city now. Under Almajara's new order." Niche's casual tone doesn't match his words. "Which means you follow my rules or face public execution."

  "You're Almajara? There’s no way this teenager is our ruler. Former overthrower of the government? Yeah, that’s not ” Venus blurts arrogantly.

  "Yeah, that’s me! Hey, maybe you guys want to do an interview? I'm exposing corruption and you seem pretty suspicious meeting in the dark like this. What are your names?" Niche scans the room, and, when he spots the nameplates, ostentatiously looked towards them, grabbing the attention of everyone there. “Huh. Interesting. Well, the jig is up now. I know your names,” Niche sneers.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Mars starts, "This child is delusional—"

  "Am I? Check the news." Niche pulls up his phone. "Sixty percent approval rating. Military's confused and standing down. Police don't know what to do. I own the information flow."

  "For now," Venus says quietly.

  "Yeah, for now. But now is all I need to expose you." He starts recording. "So, want to confess your crimes to the camera? Or should I just tell them what I already know?"

  The threat hangs there. They can't attack him on livestream. But letting him leave means exposure.

  "Turn off the phone," Venus says.

  "Make me."

  The phone explodes in Niche's hand. Pieces scatter, his palm bleeding from shrapnel.

  "Woah, how'd you do that?" Niche excitedly asks.

  Putting his hand in his pocket, Almajara regenerates it under cover. But it is too late. The livestream is dead, and there are no witnesses now.

  "Now we can have a real conversation," Neptune says, a smile growing on his face.

  "Or not." Niche backs toward the door. "The world has seen you. They know I came here. That’s all I needed."

  "They saw actors in a basement," Jupiter corrects. "You have no evidence we're anything else."

  "The phone explosion—"

  "What explosion? You dropped your phone, and it broke." Venus holds up the remains. "See? Just a shattered screen. Could happen to anyone."

  Mars's dream wisps are getting thicker. "You should leave, boy."

  "Not without answers."

  "You want answers?" Venus steps closer. "Here's one: You're playing a game where we wrote the rules. Your little revolution only exists because we allow it."

  "Bullshit."

  "Is it? How do you think you've survived this long? A teenager overthrowing the government in days?" he laughs. "You're our entertainment. But if you bore us..."

  The threat hangs there. Niche realizes he's surrounded, and they're done pretending.

  A hand gently lands on Niche's shoulder from behind.

  "I think it's time you leave,” the voice says.

  Niche spins around. A man he doesn't recognize looks down at him from the dark hallway. Most of the Vestige Court has gone rigid.

  "Sol,” Venus says, his voice carefully neutral. "We didn't expect—"

  "Clearly." Sol doesn't look at anyone but Niche. "You're broadcasting?"

  "Was. Phone broke," Niche chuckles. “Who are you, big guy? Should I know you?”

  "Convenient,” Sol says, ignoring Niche’s sarcastic question but applying slight pressure to Niche's shoulder and guiding him toward the door.

  “Boss,” Jupiter starts, unafraid to speak out against their leader. “Has your mission been completed?”

  “No, Jupiter.” Sol’s eyes are locked onto Niche’s wrapped bandage on his hand. “You could say I heard what was going on down here and got FOMO.” Sol forcefully turns Niche around, facing him towards the door. “You’ve made your point boy. Now leave."

  "This meeting's over," Niche says, walking out of the door and up the steps to the exit.

  "For now," Venus agrees. "We'll be watching your next broadcast with great interest, Almajara."

  Almajara’s Palace, Evening, Present

  Almajara lays down on the throne that is too big for him with his legs elevated on the right armrest. He reviews the latest surrenders.

  Despite this news, Niche cannot stuff away his realization anymore; he must confront it.

  "Your excellency?" an aide says, approaching with documents, wearing white gloves.

  “Yeah, what’s wrong?” Almajara asks.

  "Your excellency, there's an urgent matter in the communications room,” the aide responds.

  The aide extends his gloved hand to help Niche up from the throne. As their hands touch, a tiny spark of static electricity jumps between them. Niche barely notices but instinctively retracts his hand. Niche gets up on his own and hops down from the throne.

  "What kind of urgent matter?" Niche asks, suspicious of this servant.

  "The resistance networks, sir. We've intercepted their channels,” the assistant replies.

  Palace Gardens, Present

  Niche follows the man outside the main palace to one of the side sheds. The walk is long, reflecting the vastness of not just the palace but also the beautiful gardens encompassing it. Niche reviews some transcripts the assistant hands him for a few minutes.

  “Alright, good work,” Niche insincerely thanks the assistant. “You can…take the rest of the day off.”

  Five minutes after he came, Niche walks on the same trail back to his palace.

  When Niche returns to the large palace gates, he sees something different from a distance regarding his throne: someone else is sitting properly in his seat, staring straight at Niche with a large grin on his face. This man has the same face Niche is wearing now: the face of Almajara.

  "What?" Niche stops, confused.

  Niche suddenly is made aware of the mass on his back.

  “Hey, who the hell are you?” Niche calls out with anger, pointing at this intruder.

  The false Almajara sits, crossing his legs.

  This imposter taps into the PA system of the palace. This announcement plays as an emergency broadcast, interrupting every program and playing on every screen in the country. The broadcast is as follows: “Now that my authority is absolute, the reign of Almajara is in session. For my first order, we will execute all the ones who opposed me. Their names are listed here."

  A screen materializes in front of Almajara. Additionally, wherever this broadcast is playing, the list also appears. Near the top of this death list reads a name that makes Niche shudder when he reads it: Mika Sutori. The broadcast ends with that message.

  "What? Who is this fraud?" Niche's flames start sparking. "And he's going after my sister?"

  "Commence the cleansing," the false Almajara commands. Guards start mobilizing.

  Niche calmly walks towards Venus, Niche’s arms completely on fire with eternal flames.

  Suddenly, rapid footsteps behind Niche accompany a familiar voice.

  “Come, this way, quick! We need to stop this!" the assistant from earlier tells Niche.

  The assistant pulls off his right glove while running and reaches for Niche's hand, jumping to try to grab it before Niche realizes what’s happening.

  "Hurry!" the assistant exclaims in mid-air.

  “I ain't letting you touch me,” Niche says, igniting himself completely in eternal flames.

  Mars retracts his hand, which burned after he tried to touch Niche.

  "Fuck!" Mars exclaims.

  "This isn't how this is supposed to happen," Venus mutters from the throne, disappointed.

  Venus raises his hand. Suddenly, a black hole manifests near Niche; it’s relatively small – about the size of a baseball – but it has a massive pull. The sudden gravity change causes Niche to release his flames. The pull also yanks both Niche and Mars together.

  "No—" Niche tries to resist, but physics doesn't care about his protests.

  Mars's hand slams into Niche's chest. Mars’ hand turns white along with the area on Niche’s chest Mars’ hand touched. The black hole disappears, but the connection has already been made. The dream wisps invade Niche instantly.

  Both collapse instantly. Niche's eyes roll back as he's pulled into the dream realm and Mars falls beside him.

  Mars allows himself a small smile before his consciousness fades away. "Sweet dreams, king Almajara."

  Venus, still wearing Almajara's face and sitting on the throne, doesn't even glance at the two unconscious bodies.

  "Dispose of those," he tells a guard. "The palace has no room for the weak."

  Neptune walks in.

  "How long will you keep him?" Neptune asks.

  "Until his mind breaks or his revolution dies. Whichever comes first." Venus says. "I have a persona to steal."

  Looking at Niche, Venus shifts into a more complete form of Almajara. Almajara's face, voice, everything. It looks completely indistinguishable from Niche’s Almajara.

  "Time to show the world what their hero really believes," he says in Almajara’s voice.

  The guard drags Niche, Mars, and Raizen away, stuffing them in a supply closet.

  Venus starts another broadcast. "Effective immediately, all children over ten will serve the state. Military training begins at dawn."