The soldier saw La Mort in his sight and came back running, screaming—shouting.

  “My king—my king, there was nothing we could do. Ezra slaughtered them all.”

  The soldier was frantic, his heart beating out of control as he struggled to gather his breath.

  La Mort didn’t rise to the frantic behaviour. Instead, his eyes closed, head tilting to the side as his hand rose toward the soldier’s cheek; his fingers gently slid down his face until they reached the bottom of his jaw.

  The soldier was perplexed. He stood there completely still, confused as much as he was scared.

  “You failed me, soldier,” came the words slowly, crippling the soldier’s body. His eyes were scrunched, his mouth hanging halfway open. He knew what those words meant—he had been on the other side so many times when those words were spoken to others.

  “Please, sire,” he begged, shaking with each word spoken. “Ezra… it was his fault, sire. There was nothing we could have done against him. He bent the earth—rained down fire. Electricity danced off every corner of his skin, a display of power that could only be eclipsed by you, sire.”

  Cane’s face began to twitch; he could not hold back his rage nor his disgust at the soldier’s words.

  “Bested by only my father—hmphhh. Ezra has and always will play second best to me, soldier. Just admit it,” he smiled. “Your men were simply not up to the task.”

  “I… err… it’s…” The soldier couldn’t muster the words; he was at a loss.

  “Silence,” commanded La Mort through a calm tongue. “Cane is right—you speak of defeat, and yet you stand before me able to fight without a single mark or graze on your skin.” The soldier’s eyes widened. He started to stagger back, creating distance between himself and the king.

  “I did not run,” he stated. “If I did not leave when I did, who would there be to tell you the tale of Ezra’s betrayal? I did what I felt was in the best interest of the kingdom.”

  “I could tell when the thunder roared and the lightning raged war across the skies that it was Ezra who helped that ship escape into the sky. I did not need word to travel from your lips. And yet here you are, delivering a message I already knew, soldier.”

  As La Mort continued to speak, he began to approach the soldier. The wind raged, and thunder shot down from the heavens every time he advanced forward. The soldier looked all around him—at the ships in the distance, at the scattered bodies that lay dismembered across the ground, and at his life before pledging loyalty to La Mort. A microcosm of thoughts all piled into one ball, filled to the brim and ready to explode.

  But the reality of it was:

  Where would he run?

  Who would he run to?

  This was all he had left in the world—and he and La Mort both knew it.

  You see, La Mort played the game perfectly. He would offer them something that looked great on the surface—a better life, purpose—but when they joined and peeled back the layers, they quickly realised it was anything but. But it was too late. With their planets destroyed, their people gone, La Mort and this godforsaken allegiance to an army that would replace them the moment their eyes closed for the final time was all they had. It was cruel, of course—vindictive—but it was a brotherhood, and those brothers would do anything for the cause and for their leader.

  The soldier’s head dropped as La Mort took his final steps and stood in front of him. Cane watched on, arms crossed, a smile carved from corner to corner.

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  “Kill him, Father,” he commanded, dripping poison into his father’s ear. “There is no exception to the rule. He is a coward who ran and must be dealt with accordingly, Father.”

  La Mort stood there, not acting—just looking down at the defeated soldier.

  “What are you waiting for, Father? Do what needs to be done. Do what you have done a thousand times before without hesitation!” Cane bellowed as he watched on.

  But La Mort just stood there, Cane’s words failing to penetrate his skin. He saw the soldier’s father’s eyes when their eyes first met—and everything blurred around him. Suddenly, he was somewhere else.

  The memory opened like a door he had no choice but to step into. He felt a push at his back and the door slam behind him; then the voices came.

  “I know what comes next—I know I can’t live,” said the soldier’s father to the younger version of La Mort as he sat across the table from him.

  La Mort stood in the corner, confused, watching the younger version of himself and the soldier’s father.

  “You should be proud. Your son has shown potential that none of your kind possess. But don’t worry, old man—your son will not know what happened here. He will be given a life beyond yours and his wildest dreams,” said La Mort as he got up from the table.

  As La Mort was halfway up from his seat, the soldier’s father pulled back on his arm. La Mort immediately turned to him.

  “I know I am not in a position to ask… but I will ask nonetheless. He is my son, and I would not be able to rest unless I asked.”

  La Mort looked at the old man, confusion etched across his face.

  “Don’t speak in riddles, old man—spit it out.”

  “We’ve all heard the stories and knew what would become of us if your eyes ever landed on our planet. We all prepared for that fateful day. So I accept my fate with welcome arms.”

  The old man gripped La Mort’s forearm tighter.

  “What I ask from you, La Mort… is to look after my boy. Help him, guide him. He comes from a good home, and he will be one of your most loyal soldiers if you invest in him.”

  La Mort had never seen such passion before—not when someone was having their child taken from them. It had always gone one of two ways: they either refused and were killed, then their child—driven by grief—sought vengeance and was killed as well; or they handed the child over, hoping La Mort would spare them for being cooperative.

  La Mort could feel the passion burning in the old man’s eyes and nodded. That was all the old man needed to go peacefully, without a fight. He let go of La Mort’s wrist and sat back down in his rocking chair, waiting for the inevitable as La Mort turned his back and walked off.

  As La Mort exited the brown cottage-like home, his men rushed in behind him. The lights from their blasters flashed through the gaps where the windows once were—and the old man was no more.

  La Mort wrapped his arm around the young boy’s shoulders, turning him away from the chaos, and walked him toward the ship.

  “This is your people’s fault. They were weak; they were negligent. They made this war happen and left you with no one. But you see—you have the chance now. You can become part of the greatest army this galaxy has ever seen and give your life purpose. Be part of a brotherhood that looks after one another.”

  The young man, tears still streaming down his eyes, looked up at La Mort.

  “I want to be a part of that. I never want to feel this weak or helpless ever again.”

  “Father!! Kill him!” Cane’s voice echoed, shattering the memory that held La Mort’s mind in place.

  La Mort snapped back, his arm shooting out, hand clamping around the soldier’s throat as he lifted him high.

  The moment of doubt had passed, and the sea of false promises that held him captive washed away—La Mort was back.

  “That’s it, Father—kill him. You offer but a sliver of weakness to these men, they will take a mile and see you as weak!” Cane shouted, staring at the remaining soldiers, knowing full well it was a lie.

  But La Mort fed on Cane’s venomous words; his poison finally penetrated his skin. His fingers tightened around the soldier’s nimbly built neck, bones grinding under the pressure as La Mort’s fingers dug in deeper. The soldier’s legs kicked helplessly as he dangled in the air, and Cane watched, eyes gleaming with pride, his tongue sweeping his bottom lip as he tasted the chaos.

  “Yes… yes, Father,” Cane whispered, unable to contain joy. “Crush him—kill him. Show them all why… you… are… king.”

  The soldier’s eyes began to blur. He could feel the surface of death’s door as La Mort squeezed tighter. His legs stopped kicking, and his resistance waned. He could feel the life being squeezed out of his body—

  But then—with a loud bang—Ezra hit the ground.

  “Father!”

  “Let him go,” he said confidently. “It’s me who you want.”

  Cane exhaled a slow breath, lips parting into a thin, poisonous smile.

  “And so the prodigal son returns…” he murmured.