Thawed

Regulus shifted from the spot he died.

He stood, glaring at the strange beast that crawled up on him, howling like a dying animal. He was going to kick it out of the way, before he took a chance to glance around.

There seemed to be… a black path covering his grave. Massive buildings towered over him, far larger than what he would have considered normal. And the beast… there was a human man inside.

The Emperor pondered this. How long had he been dead? Where was Diana? For that matter, where was his kit? He reached into the space where he kept the divine tool, and quickly donned it. He raised the spear toward the beast… and…

Unimaginable pain took every part of him. Genuine agony was his every breath. If there was a Christian god, this was what his Hell was. For a moment, the emperor merely spasmed puking blood onto the sidewalk.

He glanced around, like a cornered beast and dove into the nearest alleyway. What in the fuck was that? The beasts continued crawling by as he sat there in his armor.

Diana, his Eidolon, appeared. “Sorry for the wait, Regulus. Some of the spirits in the Ward wanted to play a game of cards and you-“ Diana, realizing her descendant was on the ground, trying and failing to keep stubborn tears from falling, came to his side.

It was then that the purple light appeared over him, and Regulus glared. ”So the great destroyer left his whore here to finish me off? Fine then. Come at me, wench.” Regulus raised his spear, and created a wall of pure cyan light over him.

The Frozen Emperor was back.

”No, that was impossible!” she wanted to say, but she knew with the Descendants, nothing was impossible. Powers were never something able to be predicted, even with her oft-lauded gift of foresight. But he was defeated, the greatest enemy the Duke of Ravens had ever encountered. He had even managed to injure Shiwa in their final battle, forcing him to use more of his power than Blanche had ever seen. And then … his annihilation of the country. It was something that she could not forgive, every last man, woman, and child ripped to shreds by the energy Shiwa wielded.

It was one of the factors that made her leave his service. It was so cruel and pointless, much like the Emperor himself. She could only sigh as, despite being weakened, he still urged to fight her; such tenacity for a man with a broken crown. Despite the pain wracking his body, he still had the nerve to insult her and try to defend himself. She could only stare blankly at the cyan wall as it bloomed into existence; she could tell it was weaker than normal, and despite him utilizing his Divine Instrument, there was not the swirl of power around him that indicated he was Awakened. And within him, the tell-tale sign of a curse.

Instinctively, her hand went to her core, right below her breast.

”Peace, Emperor.”

A flash of light, and the ends of her hairs burned white; a single flower appeared in his hair, and the world slowed down. Every little motion was exaggerated, every feature focused and thrown into sharp relief. Time itself seemed to have slowed down, a single heartbeat stretched into eternity. Her violet eyes were corrupted with white light, and she crouched in front of him; even with her full speed, it took a moment. And this slowing gave him time to process the world around him. She held it for a second more, and then time slammed back into them like a barreling rhino, her eyes and hair returning to normal.

”The world is not as you left it, Regulus. Many years have passed, and much more has changed. Come, stand. I will show you, if you will let me.”

She offered her hand, the white dress billowing about her thighs absolutely scandalous for what he was familiar with, but looking around, practically modest compared to modern fashion.

Regulus lowered the weapon, he stared at the ground. He glanced at the place where his arm once was… he sneered angrily and slammed his palm against the ground. They had killed him. This harlot and her master had succeeded in destroying his empire.

He glared up at the woman, before Diana touched his leg with her trunk. ”Listen to her, Regulus. We have no idea where we are in this world.”

The Emperor grit his teeth and created a platform under his feet that he raised to meet Blanche. ”Before I agree to go with you, witch. I am not keen to trust you.” He narrowed his eyes. ”What happened to the so called “Nevermore King”? Why are you offering me this assistance? What happened to my realm?”

Regulus needed to know. If Blanche refused to answer, he would have his answer. Even weakened as he was, he knew he could still conquest like the days of old. He didn’t need her. But if the Nevermore King continued to draw breath…

Blanche didn’t know what to say. To be struck down at your lowest point, stricken from all memory and then reawake in a world you do not recognize? ‘Twould be horrendous. Her heart went out to him, but now was not the time for Compassion. A breeze blew through the alley, catching her hair like a million hands, obscuring her features for a moment; there were tears in her eyes, tears for him and what happened to him. A car whizzed by and the distant sound of laughing children was quickly drowned out by the approach of a low-flying plane, coming in for a landing at the airport. It was a different world, truly. She didn’t think about it much, but to the nigh-immortals like her, were she to lose her memories of even the last fifty years, it would be like going to a different planet.

”Your people were killed, Regulus. Don’t you remember?”

She tried to distance herself from the memory, but like so many things these days, it came back full force, violent rips appearing around her, as if the memory itself was ripping into reality. It was a always like this; memories like waves surged around her, bursting through the dam of her mind, washing away reason and senses and leaving her stranded to the past; she could grip onto the driftwood of reality to remain afloat.

It started as a fog, dense and thick, so thick you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. It descended upon the city like the maw of hell, a black cloud of death. Thousands died in an instant without a sound. Then, the screaming. From the cloud came creatures of the darkest nightmares, ripping through man, woman, and child without a care. Blood caked the streets in a gory show of pure horror, entrails draped across banister and bed. The lucky few who escaped the initial onslaught were torn apart from the inside as they breathed in the darkness Shiwa created, rotting their lungs and twisting their flesh into goo.

A single tear glistened like a diamond on her cheek.

”And you were, too. And yet you’re back, what lucky day. ‘The broken emperor’, it all makes sense!”

Her eyes flicked up towards the blackened sun, particularly notable as there was no plans for an eclipse today. The closest was four months away, on the other side of the world.

”Your resurrection is a true miracle. But if I remember you, then so does Shiwa- The Nevermore King. He lives, Regulus. And I believe you will be instrumental in ending his reign.”

She was appealing to his pride, a sin he was all too guilty of, she knew, but her manipulation didn’t matter right now. What did matter was the plea; it was earnest, honest. And if he looked into her purple eyes, he would see change. Older, more mature; no longer a girl, the weight of a thousand years weighed on her. She just had to make him see. Her regrets, her pains and sorrows, they were tied up in him, and in Shiwa. And she had a chance to make things right.

As the visions washed over him, the pain and regret washed over him. But moreso… Regulus felt the hate. His people were innocents. What right did he have to steal their lives? None… and Blanche helped.

His eyes began swirling with inky darkness, before being entirely consumed by black. His face shifted, for but a moment one could see the skull beneath flesh as the Emperor corrupted. [color:a433=Darkcyan ]”You had no right.” The armor that the Emperor wore was burned away in black fire, revealing a dark cyan tunic underneath. His bare legs open to the air, pale as a corpse. ”You stole them away. Ended their existence.” His hand reached out for Blanche’s throat, slowly. As it did so, the black fire consumed the skin of his hand, revealing a gauntlet with clawed grip.

[color=Darkcyan]”No. That won’t hurt you as much. Extinction will.” He allowed the construct holding him to break, and he walked into traffic. The driver, clearly panicked, tried to swerve out of the way but failed to do so. He honked with all his might, but found that nothing moved the emperor until the gauntleted hand was wrapped around his throat.

”We all have our domains, witch. Mine is memory… and if memory serves.” The color drained from the man's face, and he visibly weakened. ”Emotion is yours.” He dropped the husk of a man to the ground. ”How did that man feel, Blanche? Fear? Agony? Rage at the indignity of it all? He raised a finger to point to the figure in the sky.

”I will raze this pretender domain, and I will make you feel all of the pain that they feel. Then I will tear out the Nevermore Kings heart myself. So says Regulus Amitale, the Frozen Emperor.

Emotions like waves washed over them again, but not from Blanche; Regulus was losing control, and there was little to do to stop it. Indeed, it was hard to do anything with the sheer vitriol pouring off the fallen king. She staggered backwards, placing a hand on the wall of the alley for support. It took a second to recover, steeling herself against the wall of emotion that slammed into her, almost a physical thing. By the time she separated herself from the twisted webs of Regulus emotion, the Frozen Emperor had stepped past him, radiating waves of that same intense hatred.

It was not a feeling unknown to her, the domain of the Nevermore King. Black and hate and corruption, coalescing into a pure aura around Regulus that she had never hoped to feel again. It parted around in a visible kaleidoscope of black and violet, dissipating against the walls like thrown-away memory. She was too slow, too damn slow, just like that time in the market. The man in the car withered away, car crumpling around the Descendants, the words like jagged barbs into her brain. She felt the rage and hate coil like hidden snakes in her mind, black and red waging an equal war in her soul.

In the end, hate won.

Hate always won, in the end.

The sun was blotted out by a dome of night, violet stars twinkling in them; though not black, it was so dark violet as to be nearly so. And standing in the alley was the visage of death. Blanche’s pretty features were obscured by a cloak of energy, sweeping behind her, filling empty space like a gas. A scythe was in her hand, an oscillating blade of energy, forming the crescent, a blackened oon against the alley. Her voice vibrated in the town; the dome that formed didn’t appear spontaneously, but rather had formed from an infinitesimal point, expanding outward so rapidly, it appeared to be sudden. The result was everyone and everything covered in a layer of energy, reliving her best memories. Except for the Emperor. If he tried to target another, he would find them protected in stasis of a sort, and impossible to escape the dome.

Not that he would get a chance.

“You are right, you flawed, fallen, wannabe emperor.”

Her voice was vibrating and reverberating, a timbre to it that alluded to the terrifying power she wielded. Like a flash- no, flash indicated there was some warning, some sign that she was moving. One moment she was there, the next her clawed hand like the limb of satan was curling around his face, immeasurable strength lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the ground; for a second the asphalt seemed to hold, but it was an illusion, the ground cracking, collapsing, a crater forming from where his body impacted. The second her hand left, she kicked, sending him flying.

”I feel everything, Amitale.  Do you know what it is like?”

A bolt of pure energy flew towards him at speeds that would put a jet to shame. But she continued her speech, not caring if it landed.

”Every emotion, every little complaint, every bitch and gripe and little nuisance that bugs every last person around me … every emotion comes with memory, and then I live it, Amitale. I have lived hundreds, thousands of lives, gleaning experiences from the minds of the lesser beings around me. Do you understand what it was like? The world we tore down, Shiwa and I, it was one that held no secrets to me. I felt their thoughts, I was them, Amitale!”

And then the black turned to violet, the cloak fading, scythe turning into a guandao- and on her head something like a crown, feathers surrounding her head and jutting from the corner of her eyes that seemed to fade into eternity. A look of bliss was on her face, the dark violet disappearing into the roots of her hair like water seeping into soil. A burst of violet, and a swan with purple feathers and ancient eyes appeared, walking beside Blanche as an equal.

”But I learned to love them, Regulus, love them as a mother would a child. These dear, precious, stupid children. They have so much potential, and all they need is a … guiding hand.”

Her hand clenched, and the dome dissipated into a million stars, raining down amongst their ears.

”And Shiwa, he wants to tear it all down. Can you imagine? Hating all of this?”

Her hand swept through the air, and a million images appeared, rainbows and waterfalls, a swarm of butterflies, a protestor putting a flower in the barrel of a gun. These living images crashed and coalesced, turning into each other, mingling for a show of proportions unknown to humanity.

”And for all their wrath and pain-”

The images changed, to war, famine, hate, crime and death, and amongst them Shiwa was prominent, spreading them with magic and blade, a spider on a web that spans time and space.

”They are capable of things you could not imagine. So much potential, so much love and kindness is kept deep in their hearts, and you want to exterminate them?”

Disapproval crossed her face, the spear held out lateral to the ground.

”I cannot let that happen. That is why I oppose the Nevermore King, Regulus. You are not the only person who lost something that day.”

Over his many years trapped inside the plane of Grief, the Weeping Ward, Regulus found that his mind could never focus on that intense hatred he felt. That burning black coal in his heart. But now that he was free… this black flame could destroy the world and he was it’s harbinger.

This is what he thought before the younger descendant sent him flying into a nearby building. The hatred in his heart wouldn’t fade, he stood, using his skeletal arm to push against the ground hard enough to leave a crater nearly 5 feet deep, and almost as wide.

He tried to speak, but the sheer weight of his hatred for this woman before him contorted his face and burned his throat. The best he could manage was a bestial roar, as he leapt for a target, trying to grab them by their face; he found that he couldn’t. He felt the dart impact his chest, but he ignored it entirely. Pain was no longer a concern. He needed to kill, to corrupt, to destroy this modern world.

She spoke of knowing how everyone felt all of the time, but the words fell hollow on the man’s ears, she lost the black hues and became violet once more.

The moment the dome fell, the Emperor leapt for her. He swung at her face, at her stomach, at abt piece of exposed skin that he could find, only to be stopped by the violet shield once more. He could do this for days, if he wished. So then… why did he suddenly feel…. So tired.

The darkness left him, and knelt to the ground. ”Why…” For a moment, the Emperors face was the mask of death. But soon it became the face of Regulus Amitale, only older. Wizened. His goatee sprinkled with white, his regal face cracked with wrinkles of a life he had never really lived. ”If you felt them… if you felt him… why did you allow him to do such a terrible thing?”

Finally, the unbidden tears fell. Grief finally won out for the Grief descendant. ”Show me. Show me the memory of that day. And I will join your cause…”

”I was in love …”

His words were daggers, jagged edges cutting deep, ripping out her heart and carving fresh the wounds long healed. Like a broken mirror, the image behind her shattered, the images of the Nevermore King replaced by the man he used to be, hundreds of fractured images showing the same thing; Shiwa, without the pallor and glamour of his Descendancy. He was young, surrounded by ancient buildings. The images were from Blanche’s point of view, flowers offered to her, the dark glimmer of Shiwa’s eyes thrown into a different light when viewed from the eyes of a woman in love.

The scene changed; romance and love and sex, a rapid montage of a wild relationship through years, months, decades until it settled on a scene. Unlike those flickering before, this was odd, the contrast weird; Shiwa was thrown in high relief, but the image around him, of a vast, gorgeous field of flowers in a meadow bordered by a picturesque wood, was indistinct and fuzzy, as if seen through clouded glass. When he smiled, his dark eyes seeming to burn right through her, it made flowers bloom. She was happy, knowing that only she could elicit that kind of response from him.

”... people do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Like feathers, the aura of power around her faded, including the image written in the air, lingering for only a moment on the smile. It was difficult to see in the uncertain light, dappled dots from the clouds and buildings scattering the sun on her, but she might be crying, tears like liquid diamonds falling from her face. Hands clenched nothing, grasping at what once had been, memories jagged vines strangling her throat and wrenching a ragged breath from her lungs. For a brief moment, she would see her feelings; Blanche loved him still, and it tore her apart to hate him.

”It was that day, as your great empire and all its people died, without remorse, without mercy, that I could no longer stand by and abide his evil. And for it, he cursed me.”

Her hand splayed against her chest, the glow of magic flaring up; a violet mirror again showed an image, more clear this time. It showed Blanche, in the regalia she wore as one of his Valkyrie, arguing with him on his onyx throne. The crown that dictated as the Queen of the Valkyrie was thrown at his ground, and only here did Shiwa move, stooping to grab it. It seemed it was over, but as Blanche turned to leave, she stopped; a hand was thrust through her back, blood splattering on the floor. Five words echoed throughout the alley, the last words Shiwa ever said to her.

”You will never oppose me.”

The memory faded, leaving only the faint smell of cinnamon behind, and Blanche turned to him. Now was not the time to be lost in memories, to get lost in the twisting rivers of emotion. Even as the feelings of times long past threatened to sweep her away like a tsunami, she had to get past it. She can cry later, when she is alone in her quarters.

”So you ask me why I let him do such a thing? Why I participated in such tragedy? Because I was bound to him. Bound by the chains of love, and now … I can never again raise a hand to oppose him. I need your help, Regulus, to fight against him. To fight what well may be the end of this world.”

The Emperor stood. He wiped away years of stress and grief in an instant, allowing his disapproving glare to take its place once more. No longer wearing the face of a man worn by his years, but the practiced face of a proud king. If one looked into his eyes, they would see the broken man he was still, yet they would also see the newly reignited fire.

He nodded. “You fell because you were weak. Stupid.” He sneered. “I suppose blaming you won’t help matters now.”

He leaned heavily upon a summoned spear. His body was recovering from resurrection and corruption, it would take time for him to be at full once more. He sighed.

“An army of descendants. If I were a thousand years younger, I’d tell you to piss off and come back when you had a real plan.” He looked away. “However… we may just need the Prismatic Legion to take down the Nevermore King.”

“So where do we start?”

”You fell because you were weak. Stupid.”

The words hurt what remained of her shattered pride, but her cheeks were dry; cruel they may be, the words were true, and it was a weakness she will never fall prey to again. He stood, a younger face, a whole face surfacing, but within his eyes was the same broken man defeated by a superior foe. She did not make the mistake of offering a hand to help; broken he may be, but he was as stubborn and prideful as ever. It would be offensive to even suggest he needed help, despite every kindly instinct of hers to let him lean on her shoulder. She resisted the urge, but nonetheless watched him closely; resurrection was never easy, nevermind after a thousand years.

He was a difficult person to like; even Blanche, privy to his every emotion, found it hard to appreciate his presence. But he was necessary. Powerful, even with his curse. And everybody was needed to defeat Shiwa, he was simply … too powerful. If they did not find everyone - and, what’s more, every one of their soulmates - Shiwa would get his way and he would rule over a kingdom of death.

”It’s worse than you know.”

A wave of her hand, and two stones, seemingly identical, were fashioned in front of him, slowly circling each other.

”Do you recognize them?”

If he dived deep in his memories, from before the time of his being Emperor, he would recall stories passed down from his ancestors. The Stone of Maria and the Stone of Anthony, relics from when the world was new. Said to be powerful enough to destroy even a God. Created by the First King of the World, Anthony Beinheim, to break the binding oath he made with a demon prince, an oath powerful enough to alter the course of destiny forevermore. The legends say it would have worked, had the prince not discover the treachery and cast Anthony to hell, cursing his entire bloodline from now until it ends. The Stones were then lost, cropping up now and then throughout history, the cause behind tremendous disaster and wonderful miracles, before again disappearing into the void of memory.

”He is after the Stones, Regulus. You’ve heard the stories. Their power predates us, it very well may predate the gods as we know them. If Shiwa gets his hands on these before we can gather the Descendants, and before we can find their Destined Ones, he may very well win. And for that matter …”

Another wave of her hand, the image expanded, showing a motley collection of individuals.

”You and I will travel and convince, coerce, or bribe all remaining Descendants and find some way to get them to Nevermore. You should know it, ‘twas the former site of the Castle and the namesake of his title.”

It was one of the few truly impregnable places left on the fortress, others including a Central European country and an island in the Atlantic.

”Time is of the essence. Should I carry you, or can you fly?”

The first hint of sass came through with that question, despite the seriousness of the situation.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the stones. In the hands of an infant, they were dangerous. In the hands of the nevermore king, well… he could make the apocalypse look like a light thunderstorm. Slowly, as though he was turned to stone, Regulus nodded.

”Fine. I will impart my knowledge on the children.” He began to stare into the distance, as though thinking on it. ”I think you know that I can’t fly, Valkyrie. However, that does not mean that I am without my uses.” Regulus whistled for Diana to follow as he moved with great speed toward the coast.

He lifted a hand and extended it to the water. Strings of cold cyan coalesced into a massive ship, among the largest that the world had ever known at the time that Regulus was active, and certainly not small by modern standards.

The sails were marked with the emblem of a frozen crown, and the bow was adorned with the figurehead of a crying mermaid. The plank fell, allowing him to board. Ghostly specters moved about the ship, beginning maintenance on the ship as if it were a regular thing. Regulus sat in a massive throne behind the wheel, and the ship took off at speeds equal to a jet, phasing through obstacles in its path as it went.

Within moments, Blanche would be left alone on the island as Regulus used his intuition to guide him towards the nearest descendants.