(Six parts. 6000 words.)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
One
Morgain opened his ancient eyes. Footsteps. Approaching.
There was only one reason why.
Time meant nothing to the executioner. Mountains had fallen. Kingdoms had crumbled. Royal bloodlines had reached a myriad of violent ends. Yet, he remained.
Morgain stood as his visitors drew near. The cell surrounding him was dark and barren. Its rough ceiling scraped the top of his hairless pate. Long ago, he had lost the right to interact with others, the luxury of sunlight and fresh air. He remembered them as one would the touch of a lover.
He wondered what had changed in the world above. If the light still shown. If the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shoreline and the song of seabirds remained unaltered.
The last time he had been summoned, the world had slept. Light had been condensed to flames. The only song had been that of his axe.
“Good,” a voice said in the darkness. “You’re awake.”
The executioner’s lips fell into a thoughtful frown. The words of the man before him were coated in an unfamiliar accent, meaning the throne had once again changed hands. Such change was dangerous. One day, a ruler would break the pact. On that day, the world would end.
Morgain flinched as light sparked beyond the thick bars of his cell. After his eyes adjusted, he observed the men who would serve as his transport to the world above. Seven in total. The executioner relaxed. It was clear the new ruler understood what had to be done.
“Back,” the leader of the men barked.
Retreating, the executioner took inventory of the seven men. Soldiers one in all. Uniform pieces of steel armor fitted to each body part. Individualized hilts protruding from leather sheathes. Such craftsmanship meant the world had once again entered a period of prosperity and knowledge.
Morgain made no movement as the door to his cell swung outward, as three soldiers entered and bound his limbs with glimmering chains. It was imperative that those above ground did not fear him, that they did not delay in their appointed task. A sudden movement, a spark of emotion in his eyes could spell the end of existence itself.
There was little conversation as the soldiers led Morgain up the stone stairs. The leader of the seven men walked beside the executioner, eyeing him closely. It was of little surprise when the man eventually broke his silence during their lengthy ascent.
“Morgain the Lifeless,” the soldier began cautiously. “How does one earn such a title?”
The executioner chose his words with great care. “It is deserved.”
The leader considered the response for some time before speaking again, “To become a warrior of legend, to live a hundred lifetimes is the greatest triumph a man can achieve. They say that you were the greatest of us, that your deeds forced the creator down from the heavens in an effort to destroy you. Yet … look what you have become.”
Morgain kept his focus ahead. The man was far from the first to bring up his past. Fortunately, they had reached the door leading above ground.
“I’ll just ask directly then,” the leader said. “Did you actually kill him? Is that the reason you’re locked down here, that you must continue to kill others to continue your existence?”
Morgain met the man’s gaze. “Yes.”
The seven men paled. Clearing his throat, the leader hurried forward and unlocked the door leading the larger world. The executioner followed the soldiers into the bowels of the great stone castle that would stand for all of time.
Morgain had known his answer would bring silence. As the soldiers led through the stone passageways, past long forgotten relics and up winding stairways, the executioner fought the memories of that day. He hadn’t understood the consequences of his actions. He had been a fool.
Eventually, the executioner stood before the door to the killing chamber. The seven soldiers eyed him nervously. None dared to speak.
Morgain stepped forward. As ever, the chamber was unchanged. A round, featureless room made of solid granite with a single window overlooking the distant sea. The last rays of the sun greeted his arrival; however, they paled in comparison to the eyes of the being that awaited his axe.
The executioner retrieved his weapon from where it rested against the wall. He paused to study the enchanted hourglass on the table beside it. Nearly empty. Time was suddenly short.
Morgain approached the sacrifice, listening to the faint song of the birds by the sea.
“The world appreciates your sacrifice,” the executioner said softly.
“Mine was a life well lived,” the man replied. “This is a worthy end.”
“I only wish that I could join you.”
The executioner took a last look at the ocean. Then, the axe fell.
Two
Morgain awoke suddenly. Something had interrupted his hibernation.
Eyes closed, the executioner considered the unexpected sound. The sensation of surprise had been absent since he had separated himself from the world above. He could hear any who approached his isolated cell, even in the deepest cycles of sleep. As his body did not require nourishment, there was only one reason for anyone to descend into the bowels of the world.
And yet…
Morgain tilted his head, cracked an ancient eye. Lantern light flickered just beyond the bars of his cell, revealing an abnormally small figure as the source of the disturbance.
As dice clattered against the stone floor, Morgain rose from his stone cot. His visitor paid him no mind, examining the results of the roll and marking it in the pages of a bound book. Intrigued, the executioner lumbered to the edge of his cell and observed his guest.
A girl. Young. With curling dark hair and darker skin. Well-tailored clothes of dyed silk clung to her slender figure. Heavy leather boots protected her feet. Morgain’s eyes focused on the book in the woman’s hand. It appeared impeccably made, meaning the world had either remained or once again become prosperous.
For a time, Morgain watched the girl, attempting to discern the rules of her strange game. A game that seemed to involve only the rolling of dice and the noting of numbers in the small book. It startled him when she suddenly cursed and pounded the ground in frustration.
“You’ve lost,” the executioner gathered.
The young girl observed him with fluorescent green eyes. “This is not a game where you win or lose.”
Morgain stroked his hairless chin in thought. “Then it is not a game.”
“Everything is a game,” the girl rebuked. “Take life for instance. You lose when you are dead.”
“Such an assessment is beyond the comprehension of a child.”
“I’m not a child!” The girl swiftly stood. “I am Jana, Princess of the Final Empire. In six years’ time, I will be wed. In seven, I will give birth to the next Emperor.”
“The Final Empire,” the executioner echoed. “Many have made such a claim.”
“What do you know of empires, Morgain the Lifeless?”
The executioner hung his head as memories of the man he had once been briefly resurfaced. However, he made no effort to contradict the princess. There was no point.
“Why have you come here?” he asked instead.
“The gods of course,” Jana replied dismissively. “When passing your door in the castle, I asked them if I should go inside.”
Morgain hummed in understanding. “They speak through the dice then.”
“Precisely, executioner! This encounter was the will of the divine!”
“And your last roll?”
The princess sighed. “The gods will me to return to the castle.” Suddenly, her expression brightened. “But perhaps they will one day allow me to return, for us to speak again.”
Morgain said nothing for a long moment. He did not have the heart to tell the princess that there were no gods, that only probability guided her actions.
Then, to his surprise, he offered an uncharacteristic reply.
“I would like that.”
*
Morgain struggled to find sleep.
His words to the child haunted him. He knew that he would never see her again, yet their brief interaction had rekindled a long-dead spark inside his soul. Companionship.
The executioner bared his teeth in frustration. His surprise guest had resulted in a temporary loss of his internal reasoning. He had forgotten the rules that allowed him to maintain sanity. For a moment, he had even forgotten the weight of his greatest sin.
Now, he would be forced to live with his mistake. Countless hours spent within a waking nightmare from which he had no desire to escape. Entombment in a dark cell beneath the world was a better fate than he deserved. Only upon his next summoning, when he was sure that the world of the child had expired, would he be able to find sleep once again.
Left with no better option, the executioner relived his conversation with Jana, princess of the Final Empire. The thought of such a name brought a wry smile to his pale lips. He allowed his imagination to construct a world where the child married a handsome prince and gave birth to the first in a line of kings that would rule the world for all of eternity.
However, the exchange of words could not satisfy the executioner forever. Morgain turned his focus upon the game of fate the child had played. He envisioned an existence where all decisions were made by chance, where all wars were decided by the roll of dice. He wondered if such rules would make for a better reality … only to frown when he could not determine the answer.
Morgain rose from his stone cot as a dark truth resurfaced. It had been his actions that had ruined the chance for a better existence. It had been his selfishness that had forever enslaved the world above to an endless cycle of creation and destruction.
The executioner wept.
*
A familiar sound pulled the executioner from a troubled sleep. Boots on stone stairs. Morgain stood as his visitor neared, readying himself to journey once again to the world above, to finally bury his conversation with the princess of the Final Empire.
The woman who appeared was bloodied, her dress torn and her hair disheveled. She paid him no mind, immediately retrieving the key to his cell.
“You are breaking the rules,” the executioner said as she approached. “Upon the door at the top of the stairs are written specific instructions–”
“There are no rules. Not anymore.” The woman studied him through emerald eyes. “The Final Empire has fallen.”
Morgain stared at the woman for a long moment. Recognition came.
“Jana?”
Three
The woman’s reaction confirmed it. She was Jana. The girl who had come to the executioner’s cell by chance had returned as a woman. A woman with a toxic tonic of pain sparkling within her green eyes. A woman bearing the weight of desperation.
“You must not open this cell,” Morgain said bluntly.
Jana placed the key into the lock.
“Stop!”
The woman turned the key and pulled open the cell door.
Morgain retreated into the shadows and planted himself atop his stone cot. Jana made no move to enter the cell. Instead the woman judged him through vibrant eyes. Anger radiated from her battered body in waves.
“The world needs your help,” she said presently.
“No,” the executioner corrected. “You need my help.”
“And if both are true?”
“I once told you that many have claimed to rule the Final Empire. All of those empires have fallen. All of their rulers have died, regardless of their perceived power. Whatever force has overthrown your empire will eventually crumble.”
The woman sat, placing her back against the bars of the cell. “How can I convince you that this time is different, Morgain the Lifeless?”
“You cannot.”
“I do not believe that.”
Morgain closed his eyes. “Believe what you will.”
For some time, there was only silence.
To his surprise, Morgain had to restrain himself from speaking. Without Jana’s death, he had been unable to banish his burgeoning desire for companionship. No longer did he want to relive their conversation from years before. He wanted to partake in another.
Eventually, she presented the opportunity. “I read the rules written upon the door at the top of the stairs. You are a detailed man, Morgain.”
The executioner fought against the urge to speak, to connect. He lost.
“What makes you say that?”
“I know that it was you who wrote them,” Jana explained. “Just as I know that you are the one who constructed this prison, that you serve as your own warden.”
She gestured to the enchanted chains curled like a snake against the distant wall. “While powerful, those bindings are strictly for show. You wish others to believe that you can be controlled. They have forgotten what you once were.”
“It is the only way.”
The woman laughed bitterly. “After our first encounter, I became obsessed with your story. I wanted to understand what you had done, why you had been locked away. I wanted to know the reason the gods sent me to see you.”
Morgain grimaced. The conversation had not gone in a favorable direction.
“I do not wish to relive the past,” he stated.
“If you do not learn from your past, you are destined to repeat it.”
“I have learned.”
“You have, Morgain the Lifeless,” Jana agreed. “It is others who have not learned from your mistake. They are not able to. The morale of your story has been forgotten.”
“Impossible. Any who rule learn of my mistake. I have made it so.”
“And if they do not rule from your castle, Morgain? If they refuse your sacred throne? What then?”
The executioner thought for a long moment. The great castle was the only place from which to rule, he had ensured that. How could someone refuse?
Finally, he spoke. “Then, this world will die.”
“You say that like it means nothing!”
Morgain did not immediately reply. A second conversation with the woman had proven to be a mistake. He wanted her to leave. He wanted to be left alone in his misery.
“Order will be restored. It will not be in your lifetime or even that of your grandchildren, but order is always restored,” the executioner said at last.
The woman stood and turned to face him. “Your words. Your logic. Your poisonous way of holding on to the past, to your mistakes. That is what is meaningless! Did you honestly think that the world would never change, that everything would stay the same, that everyone would follow your stupid rules!”
“You once asked me what I knew of empires. This is what I know. Time and again, empires rise and unite the world. Technology and people flourish. Then, those empires fall. The world burns. Plague and war set humanity back to the beginning. Your existence is a cycle.”
“A cycle that your actions have enabled, Godslayer.”
Morgain turned aside a flash of anger. The woman was not the first to bring up his past, nor would she be the last. “I have accepted my sentence.”
“And if someone has chosen to reenact your folly in an attempt to become a god? If they seek to destroy this world as you once did?”
“They will not succeed. Now, you must leave. I am done talking.”
*
“Do you ever wonder why the creator chose to face you?” Jana asked sometime later. “Why he didn’t use your logic and simply wait for your demise?”
Morgain said nothing. The conversation had reached its end. Soon, the woman would grow tired of silence and retreat above ground. Or she would die.
He didn’t care one way or the other.
Jana answered her own question, “Because he cared about the world he had created. He cared about the souls living within it.”
At last, Morgain broke his silence. “I am not a god.”
“Is that so? Perhaps you just bear the soul of one,” Jana replied. “I believe that you created this entire construct to protect others from a dangerous power they cannot possibly understand. Is that not the duty of a god? To preserve the world and the souls in their care?”
Morgain grunted. Again, speaking had proven a mistake.
To his surprise, the woman entered his cell and approached to further judge him through her fluorescent eyes. He could smell the smoke clinging to her tailored clothing. He could taste the blood that had dried upon her face. Her anger had not diminished.
“You would allow the world burn because you are afraid to face it,” Jana hissed. “You would rather die here in this hole than fulfill your duty.” She inched closer. “When the world ends, know that it is your fault, Morgain the Lifeless. Know that you could have saved it!”
With that, the woman whirled and marched away.
Morgain found himself in shock. Was Jana actually right? Had someone truly managed to match the man he had once been, the man who had nearly destroyed the world?
The executioner rose from his cot and left his cell.
Four
Blood-stained water parted before the bow of the emperor’s ship. Black sails fluttered in winds heavy with the scent of ash and death. Rain fell from the mourning sky overhead, trying in vain to wash away the slaughter that had ended life in the dynastic city.
Seated in his throne nailed atop the stern, Enex studied the great castle. A legendary fortress of white stone that had stood for countless millennia. Some claimed that it been built by the hand of god himself, that it could not be razed. Its strategic positioning and storied history ensured that all who sat upon its seat – the world throne – would rule uncontested.
Only, that had never been the case.
All those who had centered their empire at the castle had fallen. A civilization that allowed its greatest warriors to live forever and yet, none had ever managed to retain power. The emperor had known that truth long before he proposed a union with the so-called Final Empire. He had turned their confidence against them, ending their dreams in a single violent night.
Enex did not relinquish his gaze as his general joined him. As was his duty, the soldier had come forth a final time to voice his displeasure.
“Emperor,” Marius said. “You leave behind your claim to the world throne.”
Enex said nothing. Heavy rain swirled about him.
“Positioned here, our forces would be unconquerable. We would control the strait. In time, we could repopulate the great city. Atop the world throne, your power would be unmatched.”
It was nothing the man had not told Enex before. The mind of Marius held a certain simplicity that the emperor envied. The soldier did not possess the gift of foresight, seeing at most one move ahead of their opposition. In fact, Marius was no longer aware that they faced any opposition at all.
Fortunately, Marius had chosen his leader well.
“Two hundred years ago, I asked you to follow me into battle,” Enex replied presently. “On that day our goal was to save our home. Who would have ever thought we would come so far … or that we would still have so far yet to go?”
“I don’t understand, Emperor. Your goal has always been to rule the world.”
“The man or woman who sits atop the world throne only believes that they rule. How many empires have died within those stone walls, general? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Who is to say that the world throne is not simply a device to ensure our eventual destruction, that it is meant to draw those in power like fish to a baited hook?”
Marius knew better than to respond. Together, the two men watched the castle fade into obscurity through the driving rain. Enex did not need to turn to know his companion bore a thoughtful frown. Marius was the ultimate subordinate – one who struggled to think for himself.
“You left without ensuring your betrothed’s demise,” the general remarked after a time.
Enex nodded. He had left her alive for a reason. “Did you not once tell me that you preferred to complete one task before moving on to another?”
“But what task remains? Your rule is now uncontested. The princess of the Final Empire now rules only ash. To oppose you would bring about the death of what little of her people remain.”
Marius’ knowledge of the ancient past was scarce. Enex would have to enlighten him.
“Long ago, there was a great warrior who sought to challenge our creator,” the emperor explained. “They say that he slaughtered tens of thousands with his own hand, that his forces poisoned wells and salted fields, that his name conjured fear all across the known world.
“The histories claim that the creator eventually appeared to save the last haven of humanity, to prevent the destruction of this world. The two men agreed to a duel with the winner earning the right to serve as this world’s god for all eternity.”
“Your lifespan is already unmatched, Emperor,” Marius stated.
“Yet I remain mortal.”
“That story is a fable. Nothing more.”
The emperor rose from his seat and stretched his arms overhead. “You will find out that truth soon enough, my dear general. For now, just know that the morale of the story is an important one.”
“And what lesson is that, Emperor?”
“That the only way to truly rule this world is to become its god.”
“You … plan to challenge the creator?”
Enex smiled. “Not the creator. The man that killed him.”
*
Morgain stared at the door in silence.
Jana had not opened it. The dark-skinned woman had seated herself atop the final stair, seemingly awaiting his arrival.
“I was going to marry him,” she said. “Our union would have expanded the hold of the Final Empire across the entirety of the world. Instead, his men attacked and killed everyone in the castle.”
“Not everyone,” the executioner replied.
Her laugh was haunting. “Enex allowed me to live. He knows all about you, Morgain the Lifeless. He was the one who told me about your door in the first place. You are his idol, the one he aspires to be. He wishes to face you in combat just as you once faced the creator.”
“Then he is a fool.”
“Do you really believe that? He is the only man bold enough to break your rules, the only one who ever constructed a way to willingly draw you from your cell.”
“He does not understand that which he seeks.”
“But you intend to face him?”
Morgain returned his gaze to the door. Only now did he understand why the creator had agreed to his reckless challenge. Only now did he comprehend the true duty of a god.
“Yes.”
Five
Morgain gazed out the lone window of the killing room. Smoke filled the grim world beyond the great castle, obscuring the sight of the distant sea. Rain kept the birds at bay. The executioner knew the carrion seekers simply bided their time. He had not forgotten the smell of death.
Grip tight on the shaft of his axe, Morgain wondered how long it had truly been since he battled the creator, how many cycles of grief humanity had endured. Scenes of the past played across his ageless mind, reminding him of the misguided man he had once been and the shell he had become.
The hourglass had been shattered, the sacred contract broken. Only now did Morgain understand the fragility of his creation. His solution had been no better than that of the previous regime. A man who knew his plight had sought to emulate it, to follow the same path to its dreadful end.
Jana had been right. All he had done meant nothing.
“Morgain? What are you thinking of?”
The executioner hadn’t bothered to turn at woman’s approach. Jana had taken the opportunity to reclaim her identity as the princess of the Final Empire. Her anger had cooled. The smell of blood and sweat had been replaced by that of lilac.
“Choices,” he replied.
Jana joined him before the window. Together they looked upon the ruined city below, the carnage left behind by the man known as Enex.
Finally, Morgain spoke. “Where will I find him?”
“He left you a ship in the north harbor. It will take you to him.”
The executioner turned from the window, shouldered his axe, and walked from the chamber.
*
The rain stopped when the executioner emerged from the castle. Morgain crossed the threshold, then turned back to study his flawed creation.
“You need not accompany me,” he told the woman. “This journey will result only in death.”
“You would deprive me of my revenge?”
Without waiting for a response, Jana pushed past him, making her way down the cobbled path lined with the mangled bodies of men. Her black hair danced with the grieving winds. Gore quickly soiled the ends of her thick cloak. She stopped after realizing that he had not followed.
“Are you coming, executioner?”
“I am going alone. This is not a game.”
The beautiful woman scowled. “Of course it is. I have thrown in my lot with you, Morgain the Lifeless. I trust you to make a good roll.”
“You should remain with your people.”
“You told me that they don’t matter. You assured me that regardless of what happens to them, this city will be filled with life once again. There is no point in trying to save the Final Empire. It has fallen as have all other empires that have come before it.”
Morgain had no retort. “Lead the way.”
*
In silence, the executioner and the princess descended into the smoldering city. The white stone castle appeared to grow in stature the further they ventured away. Morgain found himself glancing back at the structure again and again, despite having no intention to ever return. It was familiar, the only thing that had not changed during the course of his imprisonment.
Jana set a quick pace down the city’s central street. The woman ignored the smoking remains of buildings and the wary eyes of those tracking their progress from the shadows. Only when they reached the market square did she slow.
The executioner studied the black birds circling overhead. At the woman’s touch, he realized there were others in the square. Many dragged corpses from connected streets and alleyways to add to the growing pile, others worked to build a pyre. As the executioner passed, the townsfolk eyed the massive axe in his hand. None moved to intercept them.
“The cycle renews,” the executioner observed. “It is not too late to stay.”
Jana glared at him. “I’ve made my decision. I want to understand how someone could do something like this. I want an explanation.”
Morgain made another decision as they moved through the morbid square. Never before had he told the entirety of his story. “In the time before my imprisonment began, an empire unlike any other ruled this world. All aspects of life were controlled in the creator’s name. There was no will but his.”
“This was not written on your door,” Jana interjected.
The executioner ignored her. “I rebelled against what I thought to be injustice. I thought that by overthrowing the existing regime, I could lead humanity to lasting freedom. I was not the first, but my uprising succeeded where others had failed. I didn’t realize the cycle the creator’s empire suppressed.”
As he spoke, they came in sight of the sea.
“It was not until many years later that I learned this world’s god reigned from a seat high above the land, that I understood what it would take to challenge him, that true transformation can only be brought about by total destruction. Eventually, he agreed to a duel. At the end of our battle, he told me that he had failed.”
The executioner paused to study the solitary ship docked ahead. Remnants of its sunken kin littered the space beyond the docks. Bodies lined the shore, prohibiting the soothing sounds of the tide.
Jana stood at his side, gazing up at him with conflict in her glowing green eyes.
“I now understand that I have also failed.”
His story finished, the executioner boarded the ship, pondering the decision to be made.
Six
Enex smiled as the island came into view. The warm rays of the fledgling sun revealed the remains of the merchant city that had operated upon its sandy shores some two hundred years before.
“It is good to be home,” the emperor proclaimed. Standing from his throne, he stretched the sleep from his muscular limbs before turning his glowing eyes to the man beside him.
Marius’ weathered face betrayed no emotion. “Our home was destroyed, Emperor.”
“Indeed it was. However, our defeat at the hands of the Final Empire fueled our ascent. Our return here is a reminder of our purpose. We must ensure that we remain grounded when traveling upon the winding road through the millennia to come.”
The general frowned at the implications. “I have received word that Morgain the Lifeless boarded the ship you left behind. Your betrothed accompanies him. He will soon arrive.”
“Good. On this island, the fate of this world will be decided.”
“Why face your foe here? There is no strategic advantage.” The general gestured to the armada of ships stretching to either side. “This island cannot even hold all of our men.”
Of course Marius did not understand. The emperor had not expected him to.
“To defeat Morgain the Lifeless, I must follow in his footsteps. Therefore, I must face him alone,” Enex explained. “Immortality must be earned.”
*
Morgain stood alone at the bow of the ship, a daunting silhouette against the setting sun. He had not spoken since boarding the wooden craft. There had been no need. Only one more interaction was required to make his choice.
“The captain says we will reach our destination at dawn,” Jana said as she approached. “Enex will challenge you at what was once his home. It was one of the many settlements my father burned to the ground.”
The executioner resisted the urge to converse. His mind returned to the day he had first met the young girl outside his cell, to her seemingly pointless game of chance. After, he had allowed himself to imagine a world ruled by probability. He had since realized that it actually was.
Against his wishes, the woman drew closer. “Morgain?” After a moment, she maneuvered around his massive figure and interrupted his view of the placid sea. “Must you be so hardheaded? There is no rule prohibiting you to speak! What do you plan to do?”
Morgain met her fluorescent eyes, then returned his gaze to the horizon.
“Damn you, executioner!” the woman hissed. “You promised me revenge.”
At last, Morgain broke his silence. “I promised only death.”
*
The executioner stepped from the sea and on to the island shore. Jana watched from the deck of the ship, quiet since his last words. All others had been forbidden entry. The man known as Enex sought to recreate the duel between Morgain and the world’s creator.
Morgain had yet to decide whether he would accept. Just as the creator once had, he needed to see his potential successor with his own eyes. He needed to understand the man’s motivation.
Enex awaited him in the center of the ruins. Morgain paid little attention to the crumbling walls and blackened foundations to either side as he proceeded into the heart of the once prosperous city. The executioner made sure to relish the warm embrace of the sun, to revel in the sound of crashing waves, to breathe deep the fresh island air.
Enex appeared the perfect warrior in every sense. Tall and muscular with flowing dark hair. Vibrant blue eyes that displayed the impressive lifespan he had achieved. Black fitted armor shielded his chest and thighs, designed in such a way to retain optimum flexibility for his limbs. A longsword with an ornate handle in the likeness of a soaring eagle was sheathed at his hip.
“At last, you have arrived!” Enex began. “Welcome to my home, Morgain the Lifeless.”
Morgain had no interest in formalities. “You know of my past.”
“Of course, executioner. I have scoured the known world for records of your ascent. I have conscripted every monk and scribe into my personal service in hopes of one day reaching this moment.”
“And what moment is that?”
The emperor pointed at him. “A duel for the god-soul that resides within you, for the power that you have wasted for far too long.”
“Wasted,” Morgain echoed. “Tell me, what would you do with this power?”
“I would create an empire spanning the entirety of this world. However, where you remained underground and your predecessor reigned from above, I would walk this earth as its living god. Every man, woman, and child would worship me with every breath and each would prosper.”
“There was good reason for our isolation,” the executioner explained. “The power of this soul is more than any one being deserves. It corrupts without exception.”
“And how would you know this, Morgain the Lifeless? You’ve spent the last hundred thousand years buried alive, emerging only so that your physical body would not fail you, so that the god-soul would not be released and find another host.”
The executioner spoke his mind. “I thought the creator had made a mistake in forcing the world to worship him. I decided to let those living within it rule themselves. I believed that this would create a life of freedom and choice for all.”
Morgain paused. “I was wrong.”
“It seems that you share that sentiment with our original creator,” Enex replied. “As such, you must face his fate, the only one deserving of a failed god.” The emperor drew his blade. “Agree to a duel with me, make the same deal your predecessor once made. Trust that if I defeat you, I know what is best for this world.”
Morgain glanced at his axe. It was true Enex knew more than most. However, there was something the other man did not know.
“I do not wish to fight you,” the executioner stated.
“Then you are worse than the god that came before.”
Shaking his head, Morgain tossed his axe away. “His mistake was agreeing to the duel. His mind had been corrupted, leading him to believe that he deserved death.”
“There is no question you deserve to die, executioner.” The other man raised his blade and moved forward. “You have failed this world. I will be its salvation.”
“I have failed,” Morgain agreed. “However, I have learned from my mistakes. I have decided to take a different path than my predecessor.”
Enex had nearly closed the distance between them.
“I’m choosing to try again. There is a way to fix this world, to stop the endless cycle of destruction I put into motion. I intend to find it.”
“You have lost that right!” The emperor roared, launching himself through the air.
Enex’s blade turned to ash as it collided with the flesh of the executioner. Eyes wide, the emperor attempted to retreat but found himself frozen in place.
Morgain met the man’s glowing eyes. “I thank you for drawing me out of my prison, for forcing me to face my mistakes.” He smiled as the emperor crumbled to dust. “Be at peace, friend.”
With that, Morgain turned and walked toward his ship, once again full of life.