Prologue
Corpses carpeted the floor in vast numbers—some slashed, others burned, yet more cut to pieces. All were so brutalized that they could not possibly retain life. Blood poured forth in an unceasing torrent, a riot of charnel blossoms vast enough to stain the world red.
With a discordant crash, the ceiling fell in, burying the sea of crimson beneath a cascade of ashen dust. Once the seat of grandeur and the pinnacle of glory, the throne room was now collapsing. Beneath the acrid smoke and the putrid reek of decay lay the deeper stench of death.
In the heart of that vision of hell, a woman lay beneath a mountain of rubble. The once-lustrous turquoise of her hair was dull with dust and matted with red, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. One could not tell whether she was alive or dead. A short distance away, a crimson-haired girl sat slumped against a pillar. The cruel wounds crisscrossing her body spoke to the ferocity of whatever battle had been fought here, but as to its cause, they kept their silence.
Deeper, now, to the imperial throne and the headless body seated upon it. The emperor’s torso was still clad in the gold-threaded finery of the ruler of the empire. His head lay at the feet of the man once known as the first prince.
“How many of you upstarts must I endure?” The man scowled, his hand pressed to his face. “Do you not realize that you are outclassed?”
Opposite him stood a black-haired, black-eyed boy, his features soft, his stance relaxed.
“Time for you to die,” the boy said, and his mouth pulled into a savage grin.
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