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. The feeling of 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.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  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 sister 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.