Prometheus

and Pyr

I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the DarkEmpress is dead. After all, that is what mortals do, isn’t it? Live, only to die; they come and go like the pages of a book, each one taking up a little bit of time before it must be relinquished to another. But not us, my brother. Forever, we will live; together (because I cannot think of your probable mortality without grasping at rage to mask the sorrow) we will show them how merciful death might be (how they might welcome it). We have done it before; watched as the body’s light faded away to give into perdition, and ignite the havoc they so desperately deserved.

Suddenly my tongue is wet with hunger, an appetite that is so rarely satiated, and I meet the Reaper’s stare with an equal gaze. “What a shame,” I murmur, for a moment wondering what had finally brought the DarkEmpress to her demise. Trivial details, really—what matters is what has become of the Basin’s empire in her absence. My thoughts trail to memories of Snowspot, how much of a disappointment he had become, and my expectations tremble beneath the weight of his disgrace. I can only hope the Reaper has been a more capable leader.

My glowing eyes shift to him when he speaks, questioning what my intentions are with this herd. I allow his words to settle before responding, breathing in the silent, frosty air with the shadow of a sneer creeping along my perfect, cunning lips. “I suppose that depends on what the Basin might need,” I speak slowly, softly (as if to draw him closer), with a pointedness behind my words. What I intend is to find out if this mountain valley is worth my time, if it deserves my allegiance; and since I’m sure the king’s time is ever so precious, I don’t leave him guessing for long.

“What exactly has become of the Basin under your hand, Lord Deimos? Does it still stand superior to the others? Does it still charge like a lion into the face of the enemy? Does it still inspire fear into the hearts of those who dare challenge its people?” My voice rises steadily with each phrase, but I never lose control. Each word is pronounced clearly, deliberately, meaning to strip away the walls and see what the heart of this kingdom is now. We have no use for a weak empire, my brother. “Or has its icy peaks melted into shallow, trembling puddles?” I stare unblinkingly, hardly challenging his authority—but his capability.

‘Tread carefully, brother.’

I clench my jaw, wanting to throw your cautioning aside, for a moment too prideful to see that you are right. I cannot lose myself to condemnation now—not when we have waited too long to come so close. Narrowing my eyes, I exhale a sigh from my nostrils before continuing. “I only intend to do what is best for this empire, as I’m sure you do,” one side of my brow rises, and I conceal a smirk before leaning a step forward. “I offer you my services, Lord Deimos,” I incline my long horn, and I feel the warmth of your flames rise to lick across your back, “perhaps I can counsel you, as I had done with the DarkEmpress?”


“Speech.”