The foot soldier dragged his feet as he made his way towards the Imperial throne room. An air of fear and sadness permeated the hallway; the smell of death lingered in the stagnant air, and the few staff, allowed to traverse the palace's grand floors, scurried about like frightened rats as they carried out their duties.
Not a smile could be seen, and only the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the cavernous corridors.
The man hunched his shoulders in fear as a group of purple-skinned soldiers passed him.
Once a place of happiness and warm light, the palace now felt like a darkened mausoleum. And even though he knew it had to be his imagination, the soldier swore a dark, icky blackness clung to every polished surface.
His skin shivered as invisible, sinister eyes watched his every move.
The soldiers disappeared down the corridor, and he paused at the throne room's imposing doorway, his heart thumping in his chest. The majestic mahogany doors carved with intricate spirals and reposing dragons had always been welcoming before, but now he dreaded walking through their gaping mall.
Placing his trembling hands against the ice-cold surface, the old soldier steeled himself for the bitter smell of blood and death that still lingered in the throne room's archaic depths. The man swore he could almost hear the cries of those who had been murdered in it mere days ago.
He breathed deeply.
Sickly, golden eyes appeared in his mind's eye, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he remembered who awaited him on the other side. Far worse than all the invisible gloom and shadow-filled halls was the man who now sat on the Imperial throne.
Vackzilian... the very man who was responsible for the Imperial Palace's degradation. The man who had single-handedly murdered every last member of the Imperial guard, turned the true Emperor into stone, and then massacred the House of Lirsdro, now sat on the Imperial throne as the one and only ruler of all Alfireá.
***
Vackzilian leaned back into his throne as he examined the three scryings depicting the inner workings of the Indonesian caverns.
He drummed his fingers on the pale stone.
With the loss of the Tokef, he now had to move up his timetable. Which was most irksome, the-
Suddenly, a dark power grabbed Vackzilian, ripped him out of the ancient dragon throne, and tossed him across the circular room. Dark curses in a long-forgotten language spewed from his mouth as he hit the marble floor and slid to a stop.
Streams of bluish-black energy erupted from the Emperor's skin and vanished through the domed ceiling as his boundless energy escaped into the ether.
As thunder echoed through the chamber, Vackzilian scrambled to his feet. His long black hair crackled in agitation. His narrowed eyes flashed in anger, and his right hand slashed out.
Water and light merged to form an image showing the shattered form of one of his blood oaths.
"Accursed fool," Vackzilian spat.
These magical backlashes had always been a calculated risk: one he had concluded wouldn't be a problem.
The Emperor had had people swear blood oaths to him in exchange for high positions in his new court. The oaths let them share a small portion of his immense magical power, but unbeknownst to any of them, he had altered the blood oath pack. Over time, all they were would slowly seep into him, giving him their power, skills, and knowledge and leaving them nothing but lifeless husks.
This, however, came with its own consequences. Anytime one of his blood oaths accidentally killed himself with Vackzilian's magic, a magical distortion formed, and large portions of Vackzilian's energy were sucked away as the natural forces scrambled to reach equilibrium.
When he had meticulously laid out his plan, The Emperor had never imagined such fools could exist, but three times this day alone, several of his blood oaths had managed to kill themselves using his magic.
The first one had collapsed a house upon himself as he attempted to form an earthen bench. Sadly, even a blood oath could not survive several tons of rubble landing upon one's head. The second one blew up a target at point-blank range with a fireball just to see what would happen, which, of course, resulted in his death.
And from what Vackzilian could tell, the third one had died while trying to use his Quasar ability, an ability which let its user convert the gasses in the air into a solid object at a moment's notice.
The foolish blood oath had formed a spear to impel some random cow, and from the looks of it, he had shot the spear back into himself instead of the animal.
Then, in his astounding lack of forethought, the imbecile had opened his hand, expanding the spear and causing himself to expire in an inglorious manner.
Vackzilian couldn't imagine how anyone could be so stinking stupid. And now he was paying for their stupidity. The three fools had utterly drained him by killing themselves, and now the Emperor had to figure out a way to restore his energy.
There were several options, but he dismissed all but one out of hand; the rest were too much trouble.
Straightening his royal garb, the Emperor smiled sinisterly as he picked his victim. Vackzilian motioned at his scrying, and an image of one of his more useless underlings came into view. This blood oath had nearly killed himself three times already, and Vackzilian was confident he wouldn't live long enough to mature to his full strength to be harvested later.
"Better to absorb him now than not at all," Vackzilian muttered to himself.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the area next to where the chosen blood oath stood in the scrying. The air popped as wind, and a host of frequencies converged, causing a perfect hologram of himself to form standing beside the blood oath.
Startled, the overly dressed man spun, his embellished robes swooshing and his silken clad feet sending plumes of dust into the air. His eyes widened as he quickly gave a deep bow. "Lord Vackzilian. Why are you here?"
A sinister smile played at the corner of Vackzilian's mouth. "To absorb you," he answered.
The blood oath stumbled back. "What?" he gasped.
"I believe I told you to watch over these miners as they procured the resources we need. Yet here you are playing in the dirt and mere moments away from bringing the entire mine down about your ears," Vackzilian's hologram answered, his eyes flicking meaningfully towards the poorly reinforced ceiling. "As such, I have decided that your energy would best be utilized elsewhere."
***
The old foot soldier's heart had nearly stopped in his chest when he'd heard the sound of thundering and cursing on the other side of the door. Now he stood petrified, too terrified to enter the throne room. But as the minutes ticked by, he knew if he didn't give Vackzilian the messages he had received, his life would be forfeit.
So, steeling himself and taking a deep breath, he pushed open one of the giant mahogany doors only to come face-to-face with Vackzilian himself as the door splashed through a scrying.
The Emperor of all Alfireá's eyes flickered open and stared at him with murderous intent. Then he raised his leather-clad arm into the air and lashed out as if he were giving the soldier a backhanded slap.
The man raised his hands in horror and desperately channeled a shield around himself. Milliseconds later, an invisible object smashed into the right side of his face, ripped him off his feet, and slammed him into the opposite door.
His shield shattered, and like a smashed pile of tinder, the soldier crumpled to the floor as intense pain flooded his body.
"If I lose that energy, I am taking it from you!" Vackzilian hissed, his narrow face twisted in agitation.
For the life of him, the soldier didn't know what Vackzilian was talking about, but he knew his life was in danger. Cradling his broken arm, he scrambled to his knees and bowed low. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but I have two messages."
Suddenly, the air blurred around Vackzilian, and visible, bluish-black strands of energy appeared out of nowhere, flowing into the Emperor.
Vackzilian breathed deeply, letting the power suffuse him. Then as the glow faded away, he turned his attention back to the soldier. "Well, what is it?" he snapped, his yellow eyes burning like volcanic embers.
"The spies you sent to the kingdom of Merinia confirmed there are caves underneath their capital city, but the king himself guards them, and there is no possible access without his permission."
"I see," Vackzilian answered as the otherworldly glow surrounding him faded away. "It appears we will be going to war quite soon."
The soldier's eyes grew wide, and his heart shrank inside him. The Empire hadn't seen war in over three hundred years, and the very thought of such an occurrence filled him with dread.
A barely perceptible smile appeared on Vackzilian's face as he saw his expression. "Ah, yes, I have forgotten that the weak are afraid of conflict. Don't worry. Your Emperor will wipe that pitiful little kingdom off the map."
The soldier swallowed and nodded. That was not what he was worried about, but he dared not voice his opinion.
"You said you had two messages?" the Emperor asked, cutting off his thoughts.
He nodded and swallowed again. "Your blood oaths have made contact with The Fallen One."
This time a full smile spread across Vackzilian's cold, handsome face. "This should be interesting," the Emperor stated and turned his back on him as he walked over to the Imperial throne. "You are dismissed."
The old foot soldier didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, pushed open one of the ancient doors, and hurriedly exited the throne room.
Dark times were descending upon the Empire. Alas, a very bleak and foreboding future stood in front of him. The soldier sighed deeply. He wished he'd done what Alec, the former Imperial advisor, had done and made himself scarce when Vackzilian had first appeared.
Now, there was no escape.