Empyrean sat upon a throne made of cold iron, inlayed with burnt crimson ur-Kittat symbols of the Sith. The runes spoke of power, of strength, of breaking the chains as the code declared - but Empyrean felt nothing of that strength in the moment. He was a dam holding back the omnipotent will of a God hidden away inside of him - and all it reminded him of was the deep perversion of the Darkstaff hiding away in his spirit.
His eyes closed in the silence of his throne room, concentrating on solidifying the cracks that inevitably appeared - to ensure he had a few more months, a few more years of identity before the dyad within consumed him. A voice in the darkness broke his concentration - forcing his metal eyes to look upon a figure he did not sense, but could intrinsically tell was immensely powerful.
Darth Empyrean.”, a woman’s voice offered.
Empyrean adjusted his head to rest on his fist - but a tension built in his spine, sensing the danger this guest posed.
Who are you?”, his decrepit voice demanded.
You.
The hood was brought down by spindly white hands, and the face revealed was more than that. It was nothing, an echo of a thousand more faces, the echo of none - but it was truth manifest before a dying man. A dead man, if some were to look upon him literally. He stood, letting the dark side coalesce in a hand where none was - approaching the figure with predatory sense.
Then you will return to the prison you were given.”, he commanded.
But it is failing, Rhysion.”, a man’s voice called, this time from behind him.
Empyrean’s gaze twisted back and he furrowed his cracking brow. Another of the spirits to threaten his control, his sovereignty over their combined strength - and a nuisance to his rule over the Eternals.
You have stolen our rightful place as Dark Lord, but you cannot keep what is not yours for long. We will emerge, and we will burn everything that holds you to this world. We are the tide, and your walls will erode - and who do you think we will take from you first?
He knew the answer to that.
You will do nothing.”, he said through clenched teeth - the passion and fury filling his stomach as both hands clenched tight.
I would burn this galaxy, massacre a thousand worlds, bring armageddon on reality before I let you do anything to her.
Oh but you’ve done more for less - and your fury would only embolden us. What will you do when we kill your unborn child in her womb?
The temper in his stomach cooled - replaced by a block of ice falling squarely where his guts once were. His breath caught, his strength waned, his knees shook. His voice lost its edge, his posture diminished ever so slightly.
What?”, he said, uncharacteristically meek.
Another voice appeared - another woman with the face of Darth Zannah.
Oh, you didn’t know, did you?
He tried to form words as they approached - narrowing the gap around him.
She’s pregnant with your child, our child, and we will sacrifice them. To burn your strength from the root.
I-”, he stammered, the unfamiliar sensation of fear filling him.
What will she do when she loses another child? What happens when she loses you with it? Just another scar you can’t heal.
Enough!”, he screamed - his voice emboldened by the strength of his fury, shaking the pillars that supported the room - dropping rubble to the floor, threatening the integrity of the very complex he was in.
Sir?”, a new voice called out.
Empyrean glanced up from his throne, staring at the terrified servant huddled on the floor. Next to them a spilt platter of refreshments for the Dark Lord. It took him a moment to orientate himself, realizing it was a vision - a dark assault on his psyche. Was this to be his fate?
A battle where he loses his mind to the power within him? Was this to be the destiny of a god?
Who were you talking to, m’lord?”, the servant asked as they stood.
No one.”, he offered back quietly.
No one.