Empyrean Iris Story Collection Vol. 3

At the Hand of the Son

The doors to the throne room open slowly, gliding over the floor too silent for their immense size. Wan grey light cuts a shaft down the hallway, Illuminating lord Avex as he steps slowly over the black marble and clear crystal of the palace floor. The doors boom once as rock strikes rock with the finality of funeral bells.

The hall has been cleaned, no longer do blood and corpses litter the floor. Great pillars line the immense room, and as he walks, he is given time to think. He wishes that he wouldn't have to, and still the thoughts worm into his head and down through his body, weighing down his feet like shackles, making his pace slow and measured.

Overhead, the grand skylights filter in the cloudy grey light, and he can hear the distant rain pattering against the colorful crystal glass. He is dwarfs in the large space, and he feels small as his feet strike over cold marble. He shouldn't feel small, not now, not with what he has come to do, but still he manages to feel like a child, a child that is raised in the cutthroat halls of the palace, fighting to get ahead on a tide of hungry Celzex, fighting for food, fighting for warmth, fighting to avoid the hunger of his own mother, who ate many of his weaker siblings.

His father has always enjoyed violent mates, each and ever last member of his harem are as cutthroat as the emperor himself, and it is a miracle none of them has murders the emperor of their own accord.

But his father is a hard one to kill, eyes in the back of his head, or so the humans would say.

At least he used to be.

At the head of the long room, his father sits on the obsidian throne, like he has for most of his life, like he has since his youth. His father, Lord Celex, even now he seems to fill the room with his presence, while lord Avex manages to feel small, the Emperor could tower a thousand feet above him, and still not feel as large as he is, as large as his influence and the things he has done throughout his lifetime.

Despite that.

He is not what he once was.

Little veins of orange light spider through his body, evident in his ears, his eyes, his face, and under the fur that covers his body.

He is a mass of old wounds, and scars.

His heart labors to beat.

Life has finally brought the great emperor to his knees, though lord Avex is the only one who knows this.

He plans on keeping it that way.

Which is why he must act quickly.

His feet are heavy as he makes his way forward and he stops below the throne eyes cast down.

He can feel his father's eyes on his back, and the two of them stand silent for a long moment, "So the day has come, has it?"

His father's voice is calm and collects, he senses no fear, no rage, no bargaining.

He has known this day would come, has expects it. In fact, he would probably have been disappointed otherwise, but still he cannot help but feel.... Soemthing. Shame fills his insides even as the strange and unknown emotion does, and he tries not to let his father see as lord Celex steps from his throne, landing on the floor before Lord Avex.

The two of them stand there silent facing each other.

He cannot meet his father's eyes.

"Why will you not look at me, boy." His father's voice is harsh, but it is not without.... Something?

It takes him a while to look up into his father's face, and though his expression is stern, there is soemthing in his eyes that....

He can't explain.