Chapter 363: Inside The Room
The room was a scene of utter devastation.
Everything had been shattered into debris. Large chunks of splintered wood from the desk were scattered across the floor; books lay overturned, their wide-open pages trampled into wrinkled ruin. Sharp ceramic shards lay soaked in spilled water, mingled with tea leaves swollen pale and bloated.
The carpet had been torn apart by a beast—threads snarled together like tangled hair, crawling and rearing across the floor, flipped open to reveal its ghastly white lining.
Blood pooled in a small hollow amid the heaving corpse of the carpet, slowly, inexorably seeping into the fur.
Magnus was twitching in small, uncontrollable spasms. He dared not breathe, yet broken sobs still leaked from the tip of his nose, dripping together with blood onto his knees. He trembled, head bowed low, staring at knees gone bluish-white, almost black, cold and drained of all color.
He was wrong. He was wrong…
Father, forgive him. He had been deceived—he didn't know, he didn't know… forgive him… He only wanted to save his offspring… forgive him…
Magnus tried desperately to make himself smaller, clamping a hand over his mouth so not a sound would escape. He wanted to vomit; the sticky, visceral sweetness of entrails churned in his mouth. But he dared not move at all—not even to swallow. Lukewarm liquid gradually cooled as it pooled in his mouth, then was forced down his throat bit by bit.
The involuntary sobbing made him constantly feel the agony of choking as it threatened to enter his airway. His split fingernails dug into his face, rough and sharp, piercing the skin until beads of blood seeped out.
His slightly trembling, disheveled hair obscured his vision. This was Magnus's last, futile disguise. He did not dare lift his gaze even a fraction higher. He did not dare—he did not dare—
The most brutal beast was staring straight at him, unblinking.
The only intact piece of furniture in the room was a chair, sized for a mortal. It was pristine—not a single crack. Its legs were free of dust, utterly out of place amid the chaos.
He sat there.
Directly opposite the kneeling Magnus, he sat like a statue. His body was bent like a fully drawn bow, elbows braced on his knees, hands crossed to cover the lower half of his face.
His head was tilted subtly to one side, black hair spilling down to cover one eye, leaving only one visible—unblinking, inorganic, emotionless, inhuman.
He tilted his head, staring fixedly at Magnus's deeply lowered face as he tried to hide.
Magnus let out a small whimper.
No—no, no, no. How he wished he could vanish at once, escape all of this, escape the gaze, flee from everything that hurt.
The monster did not move. Blood mixed with tears flowed over, soiling his boots.
"Traitor," he said.
"Failed product."
Golden light flared from the depths of his eye.
Magnus suddenly convulsed violently. The hand clamped over his mouth spasmed and fell away, and he uncontrollably vomited blood and fragments of viscera. But this was far from the true source of the ultimate hell.
His soul ignited.
The vast firmament split apart in golden radiance. A searing, blinding presence descended; flames surged forth in a roaring tide. All things swayed, screaming as they fled with nowhere to escape.
Raging fire burned on, and the entire room was consumed, sinking into golden inferno. Magnus struggled, rising and falling in an ocean of flames. Tongues of fire licked bare bone, lapped at his brain—
Zachariah Eternal, kinslayer, avenger, hollow skull, Ul-Person, Warmaster Erda, curse-speech, Tower of Babel, betrayer, meddling, Iron Men, Aeldari, storm, shrieking whispers, runesmith, Morro-Oum, messiah, Thunder Warriors, Tzeentch, lies, sacrifice, healing, twenty-one, deception, black hole, contract, webway, oathbreaker, godhood, price—
No—no!
He was wrong!! He was wrong!!! Forgive him! Forgive him!!!
Spare him!!!
Tyrant! Forgive him!!!!
Magnus roared, blood-tears bursting from his eyes. Choking, maddened, he clawed at his tangled hair and looked at him in furious desperation—
Magnus suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. The first splash stained the immaculately pressed carpet, blooming into a flower.
Trembling in disbelief, Magnus slowly raised his head.
He saw that everything here was intact.
The room was resplendent, untouched. Warm steam drifted from the tea in its cup. The books rested securely in their proper places.
He was seated upon the only shattered Golden Throne, staring at him without blinking.
+ My son,+ he said,
+ my pride.+
Agonizing pain exploded in Magnus's eyes. They burned fiercely within their sockets. He gasped loudly, roaring out broken syllables, his hands clawing at his eye sockets.
Magnus half-staggered upright, staring at the figure before him. Saliva mixed with drool streamed from the corner of his mouth as he gazed at him in terror and despair.
He trembled—trembled—and slowly opened his mouth, letting out a whimper like that of a wounded beast.
"Father?" he rasped.
Then Magnus clutched his head in agony. His nails raked across his scalp, tearing away flesh. A shrill scream ripped through his throat, shredding his vocal cords.
"Father?! Father!!! Don't—don't!! Don't!!!"
"Don't!!!!"
"I didn't mean it! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry forgive me forgive me I didn't want to—"
Magnus's voice cut off abruptly. He burst into piercing, hysterical laughter. His single eye twitched violently as blood-tears poured out in madness.
Magnus sucked in a choking breath. He reached up and touched the smooth skin of his face—where another eye should have been.
Suddenly Magnus bowed his head. He stared at his hand—
Then he plunged his fingers straight into his last remaining eye.
Crimson darkness engulfed him at once. Wet fluid soaked his fingertips. His finger muscles clenched, and Magnus curled up and collapsed to the ground, flailing like a fish dying on dry land.
His hand twitched. Soft, moist flesh lay gently against his palm, but it gradually grew cold, hardened—
Just like his own hope.
Magnus pressed himself into the carpet, using his last shred of strength to push the shattered eyeball in his hand forward. The carpet's coarse fibers stabbed into him.
The round crystal rested in his palm, staring straight ahead at the judge, the executioner, the victim, the father, the tyrant, the Emperor.
"An offering to you, an offering to you…"
Blood spilled from Magnus's mouth as he whimpered.
"Forgive me, Father… forgive me…"
"No."
The Emperor rose and walked away without hesitation.
"Magnus, I will never trust you."
The sound of military boots striking the floor rang out, like passing by a pile of worthless trash without a glance. Magnus collapsed limply into the pool of blood, his hollow eye sockets gazing at a reality he could no longer see.
Vast despair stared back at him. Magnus lost consciousness.
Creak—
After nine days and nine nights, the door finally opened.
Hades's heart jolted. He opened his eyes and, from the corner of his vision, saw the Emperor calmly walk out, his clothing scarcely bearing a wrinkle.
A thin scent of blood drifted from the crack in the door, carrying the dull stench of pulverized flesh.
Hades opened his mouth, wanting to say something—but instead he chose to glance at Malcador. Malcador remained calm as ever, simply following quietly behind the Emperor.
Hades turned back for one last look at the room.
Then, at last, he chose to follow.
<+>
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