I know writing to you is in vain, but it gives me comfort in these last moments.
I wish I had responded to your letters in all these years. With the Qilesh defeated, I thought we had so much time. I took you, father, and Emma for granted. Only now, when it's already too late, do I realize my mistake. My arrogance.
I wonder what your last thoughts were. When the sky was set ablaze. When the Final Fate ruled supreme and Ekon died. Did you blame Harras, the god that failed us? The Empire, for all its many lies and crimes? Or me, your own son?
Even now, I can't say what I could have done differently. I did as I was told. I served and carried the burden so others wouldn't have to. I became the blade of the innocent, cutting down friend and foe alike. I became Harras's righteous flames, so it could burn the Silver Moon and return the True Dawn.
And yet, all I have accomplished was blood and ash, a field filled with the dead. If only I had known of the dark days ahead, I would have said no. If I had known what bending the knee would bring, the truth it would reveal, I would have said no.
Mother, did you love me? You assured me so many times that asking again feels like an insult. But no matter how I look at it, my life brought you and father nothing but pain and misery. I know now what needs to be done, but I can't shake the one question that has been haunting me my entire life. What would have been if I had never drawn breath?
Seeing it all, knowing what is yet to come, it makes you wonder.
Mother, I wish I had been a better son. I wish that my life had made yours better and not worse. Emma died because of me. Her blood, as well as yours, is on my hands. And after tasting the annihilation of one world and its countless lives, it is not enough. There is still one more man I need to kill.
While he is deserving of his end, I do not look forward to it. I would prefer not to burden myself with yet another death, but what difference does it make? What does one drop of blood change in an ocean of crimson? Once he is dead, I will do it. Once I am the only one left alive, I will burn down the stars themselves. Perhaps then I will find peace.
So, you will hopefully understand when I ask this question yet again.
Mother, did you love me?
…
Liron looked up from his letter, his gaze shifting to Ekon. From so high above, it should have been beautiful. His world nothing but a small sphere swimming in the eternal dark, its only companions the stars.
But all he could see now were flames. The ones he brought to it. He didn't even feel like a god when he should have. For all his power and accomplishments, he was still the same scared boy.
No wind blew past him. No sound reached his ears. The Silver Moon offered nothing but its barren sight. An abandoned desert, void of any life. And for this, they all had died. At least its light engulfed him, filling him with new strength.
Liron leaned back, resting. He had seen many depictions of the Silver Moon's abandoned throne. He had imagined it more majestically. Something worthy of its legend. Yet it was rather a plain thing, common for a minor lord. By the touch, Liron guessed the throne to be marble. Its surface was smooth, with no flaws.
Liron looked up. The night sky that he had watched so often from Ekon. Under the burden of knowledge, it had lost its former beauty. He saw no more wonder in it. Only despair and malice. Was this really the same sky he had once loved?
While pondering this question, he saw him. A golden dot descending, burning like a dying star. Within seconds, he crashed into the field in front of the throne, clouds of dirt shooting up. Even veiled, his glow shone bright. His wing blew it all away with one beat. Liron didn't move as the gust of wind passed him.
"Augustus," Liron said, smiling.
"Have you forgotten your manners, traitor?" Augustus said. "I am yet your Emperor, and you owe me respect!"
"Even after Aurora?"
Augustus fell silent, his glare never leaving Liron. "You are sitting on my throne."
Liron closed his eyes, reaching for his blade. What a foul thing it was, reeking of the corpses used to forge it. And yet, it was born from love, a parting gift from his last friend. "You have become quite an ugly sight, Augustus."
Augustus snorted. His royal garments burned, their former glory long lost. Gray had spread through his long hair and beard, replacing their silver shine. Dawn, his battered blade, covered in dried blood. If someone had claimed this to be the Emperor of the Arist Empire, they would have been called a liar or a fool.
Liron had known the man behind all the acts and stories for a long time. But even he would have never thought Augustus would go this low. His wings were an abomination. Crafted out of the bodies of two dozen angels. Their limbs protruded out of it, desperate in their vain attempt to flee, frozen in time. If they had known what their loyalty would bring them, they would have abandoned their post. The wings's golden shine appeared more like an attempt to hide the gruesome truth behind their making.
A mirror for the Empire, its true face.
"You know what I have endured," Augustus said, taking a step towards Liron. "You know what I have sacrificed. All of it for nothing if I don't take the throne. Think of all that we have lost. So, step aside, Liron! Remember your oath to me! I can still fix all of this! I can heal Ekon!"
"It was all for nothing, Augustus," Liron said, getting up. "Nothing either of us can do will change this."
Augustus's face hardened, and he gripped Dawn with both hands. "So this is how it has to be? I thought you were wiser. Then please tell me, why take the throne? If you are convinced there is nothing to be done now, why insist on it?"
"To end it," Liron said, opening his eyes and looking at the blade in his hands. What a foul thing indeed, fitting to this all.
He left his letters on the throne. "To end it."
...
"To end it?" Liron said, rubbing his eyes.
The words echoed in his head even after waking up. Usually, they vanished as soon as they had robbed Liron of another night of sleep, but this time they proved themselves to be more persistent.
Liron groaned, getting up. Emma murmured something as he left the bed, taking the blanket all for herself. For one week, the same dream had haunted him every night, cutting his sleep short. By looking out the window, Liron knew dawn was upon them, so he hadn't lost too much rest. But losing one or two hours of sleep every night began weighing down on him.
The cold bit hard into him as he walked up to the window. Night was nearly over, but the air was still freezing as if it had just turned midnight. Liron didn't mind it, though. He liked it, taking a deep breath of the cold to clear his head. He would have liked to go outside for a minute or two, but their parents would have dragged him back inside. Two boys his age had nearly frozen to death because of a dare: who could endure longer outside at night. Since then, the town had kept a closer eye on its sons.
Liron leaned against the window, looking outside. The town hadn't woken yet. Seeing it so still and silent struck Liron as wrong. Like the lack of chaos and tumult meant, all life had abandoned the place. But it allowed him to watch his neighborhood without the daily distractions.
So Liron could notice the difference in size between all the surrounding houses and theirs. They all looked alike, using stones as the foundation and common wood for the rest. All as cost-efficient as possible, following the mandated Empire specifications. Liron and his family lived in the poorest area of Eisenrahm. The homes here barely sufficed for housing a single family. While the other houses didn't tower over theirs, the difference couldn't be denied.
No one here lived much better lives than the others, but Liron often imagined what a bit more space would be like. Emma could practice her lute without Liron stumbling over her. Their parents could be in the kitchen without it being crowded. Sometimes Liron glanced at the larger houses in the better areas of Eisenrahm. He had heard rumors that the families there had enough rooms for every child. They all had their places and didn't have to share beds.
"Liron?" Emma asked, her voice a whisper. "What are you doing?"
Liron didn't turn around, still looking outside. "Sleeping."
"Oh my, this funny already. Liron, come back to bed. I'm freezing."
Liron didn't reply. Emma sighed, forcing herself out of bed. She kept the blanket around her as she walked up to him. She put her chin on his shoulder, following his gaze. "Bad dreams?" she asked.
"Yeah," Liron said.
"Nightmares? Were you afraid?" she asked in a mocking tone, pinching his cheek.
Liron slapped her hand away, rolling his eyes. "No, the only thing I'm afraid of is being near you. You nearly smell as bad as you look, you cow."
"Uh, someone is in a shitty mood."
Liron grunted.
"Come now. I'm only joking. Don't be like that."
As Liron didn't respond, Emma grew uneasy. "It has gotten worse? Your dreams, I mean."
Liron rubbed his face. "Yeah."
"Perhaps … we could ask Mother. She might know someone…"
"No. You know the rumors they will spread if they hear of my dreams. And… it's not that bad. I wouldn't even call them nightmares. They are bearable."
His sister's apprehension engulfed him, oozing out of her like a thick fog. "I'm good," he said, petting her head. "I am. Go back to bed. I will follow in a moment."
Emma didn't seem convinced, but she yielded. "If you say so."
As she went back, their blanket being dragged over the ground, Liron's eyes went over Eisenrahm one final time. The last remnants of snow clung to the roofs, but they wouldn't survive the next day. Another winter gone. It would make everything a lot easier. Even with the heaters keeping the town from freezing, the cold had pestered them for long enough.
While Eisenrahm at this hour had an intriguing serenity to it, it also bored the mind. The forest around the town, though, had all the upsides with no downsides. During the day, the lights didn't stand out, but at night they had the horizon all to themselves. The white tree heads glowed in blue, green, and violet, a spectacle easy on the eyes. Like a charm, they dragged out all of Liron's worries, rocking him into a sleepy state. How he wished to be up close.
He had seen the mushrooms and moss responsible for the light a few times. Watching them from this far away paled in comparison to being in their midst, swallowed whole by their light. As his eyes grew heavier, the first mountaintop shook. Liron smiled, knowing what was to come.
Before the first Silverlight could touch the ground, the highest peaks around Eisenrahm rose from the ground, hovering in the air. Liron felt the effect himself; his body became lighter. As if someone had lifted a weight from his shoulders. With gravity lessened, the first mountain-walker rose from the ground in the distance.
From this far away, Liron could only see its silhouette. The creature loomed over its surroundings, its long, scrawny legs pushing it high above the entire forest. Hunter once described it looking like a spider from up close, carrying half a mountain as a shell. Liron wouldn't agree with this estimation, but the colossus dwarfed everything Liron had ever seen.
The mountain-walker wasn't the only giant to awaken. Four cloud-eaters stirred, having slept near each other. Their wings drowned the forest in shadow. Despite their beauty, cloud-eaters were not much but a maw with wings. They flew through the skies with their mouths open, swallowing whatever failed to escape them.
While sleeping, they wrapped themselves inside their wings, shielding themselves. But once outside of them, they become easy prey for wolves or bears. Within seconds, they slide into the air, silent as they can be. Once airborne, they had to fear no predators.
Liron watched them fly away before catching a few glimpses of the dawn. During several midnight masses, he had seen countless paintings of the True Dawn. Legends and myths about the sun and its grace. Harras's greatest gift to his beloved creation. Liron could hardly imagine this: the day drenched in warm colors. After 300 years, he wondered whether the sun would even recognize them.
Silverlight flooded Eisenrahm, fighting off the cold. The chill never went away fully, though, waiting for its time to strike again. Liron never felt abhorred by the Silver Moon the way the priests demanded of them. He guessed most people didn't, despite what it had stolen from them. And what it had unleashed.
Liron knew nothing but the Silver Moon, unlike the sun. Though with his dreams lingering, seeing the white orb climbing over the horizon made him pause. Was this the righteous anger he should feel at the Silver Moon for devouring the sun and taking its place? Or was it the unease of the empty throne? No one in Eisenrahm had ever read the holy scriptures themselves. Most couldn't read at all. But no priest had mentioned a throne waiting for someone on the Silver Moon.
"Well, fuck," Liron muttered to himself.
What was the point of worrying? He would never get up there.