Emranth. Lord of the Void. Envoy of Gygarth. Harbinger of the unseen abyss.
He moves among us, untouched by the sluggish pull of time, for time itself bends to his will. As he passes me, his presence thickens the air like tar, cloying, suffocating.
“Favored one,” he whispers, his voice layered with a thousand echoes, as if countless souls speak through him. He inhales slowly, as if tasting the air between us. “You look well. Strong. If only the same could be said for your master.”
The tentacles beneath his chin writhe with a slick, wet sound, twisting restlessly.
“You rule this land by his generosity, and yet you ignore the bargain that placed the crown upon your head. The pact that holds your kingdom in place. If you wish to keep your power, your master demands his taste.” He leans forward, his voice dropping. “He hungers. He starves. He must be fed.”
I try to speak, but even the smallest movement feels impossible, as though my body has been bound in invisible chains. Emranth does not require my response.
“If his hunger is not sated, then you and all who know you will fill his belly instead. Do you understand, little prince?”
Even if I wished to resist, I know there is no answer he would accept but obedience.
“Good.” His satisfaction slithers through the air. “But be mindful. Time is not on your side.”
With that, Emranth drifts backward, smooth and spectral, retreating into the void. The portal contracts around him, shrinking to a single silver speck before vanishing entirely. The moment he is gone, time snaps back into motion, and I stumble forward, gasping for breath.
I hear the ragged inhalations of my father and the queen. They slump weakly against their thrones, drained, their power meaningless against a force like Emranth. My father clenches his fists so tightly his knuckles are bone white, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“What have we done?” His voice is barely a breath.
“I’ve had enough of this,” I snarl through gritted teeth. “What use is this power, this sacrifice, if I’m to live my life as some puppet to Gygarth and his dog?”
“Watch your tongue, Daedalus,” the queen snaps. Her gaze flicks toward the darkened corners of the throne room. “You do not want to anger the Father Below.”
“Why? Because he’ll kill me? Take control of me? Tear away what’s left of my will, twist my mind until I wake with blood on my hands and no memory of how it got there?”
“Consider that a blessing, son,” my father says, voice grim and hollow.
I bark a laugh, sharp and bitter. “A blessing? Thenyoutake it. You offer yourself to the void. You become something worse than the monsters.”
A flash of thought rips through me, and my jaw clenches tight.
“We could end this,” I mutter, half to myself, half to them. “Take the Blades. Rally the armies of Mordorin. Unite the Fae houses. March on An’kel and bring the war tothem. To the gates of the abyss.”
The queen’s hands clutch the arms of her throne, nails scraping hard stone. “Silence, Daedalus.”
But I don’t stop. Ican’t.
“We could be free. All of us. We don’t have to live like this.”
And then, just for a breath, I see something stir in my father. A flicker of light in those frostbitten eyes. A spark of the warrior he once was, before time and terror turned him to stone.
“Walking the void is one thing, Daedalus,” he says quietly. “But opening a portal to An’kel… that is something else entirely. It is beyond even your power.”
“There is no time for regrets, Kaelus,” the queen snaps, her chest rising and falling in rapid, furious bursts. Then she turns to me. “If the word of your father and I is not enough to move you, Daedalus, then heed the warning of the void’s warden. If you do not wed, if you do not produce an heir, if you do not give Gygarth what was promised, then you risk the lives of all Mordorin.”
I turn away, but her voice cuts through the air like a lash.
“Do you hear me? You will bring ruin to your house! You must choose Daedalus, or we will choose for you. Do you understand?”
I inhale, steadying my breath, then roll my shoulders back, straightening beneath the weight of their demands. My gaze locks onto the queen, my stepmother, the thing I despise most in this world, second only to myself.
“I understand,” I say, voice low and seething, before turning my back on them and leaving the throne room.
After her.We find a local inn. Small, filthy, cheap. The kind of place where, if we’re lucky, the patrons are too drunk or too stupid to recognize what we are, let alone care enough to tell someone.
