Take Your Throne

He stirred in his bed. Sweat beading from his brow onto his pillow.

Flame….Heat….Screaming…

In a final reflex he jolted upwards sitting upright. Only, he was no longer in his bedroom on his ship. He had no armor or weapons. Just his sleep pants. Old stone surrounded him covered in the discoloration that only time could grant, dulling the edges of whatever carvings shaped the stone itself.

The runes that were once branded into his body were…healed? His skin bare and the heat of his body had grown cold.

His hand slowly came up to rub his face and his mechanical eye was gone. Replaced by his old eye. Whole, complete.

“What the..”

A deep voice spoke that drew his attention.

“Rise and shine.”

Varin’s eyes turned to see his Father. Standing before him in his grand armor. Nicked and dented from years of battles and war. His blazing white gaze boring into Varin.

“It is time to come home, son.”

Varin slowly stood taller. The stone building now coming clearer into view. A cathedral. Its stained windows lost their luster. Cracks and shattered panes littered the floor as overgrowth of vines infested the foundation and the floor.

“You know what you are destined for…”

The walls cracked and crumbled as Darth Mortifer stood. His presence crumbling the very building they were standing in.

“What you have to do…”

The ceiling ripped from the top of the walls, chunks of stone fell shattering on the floor at Varin’s feet. The rubble fell around him and the sky was revealed.

Stained in crimson, lightning cracked the sky as carrion flew through the air cawing like mad beasts as they all flew towards a massive castle ahead of them. Dead trees surrounded the massive structure, their branches swaying in the wind.

“Walk Varin. Take your throne.”

The walls finally crumbled away revealing an old dusty trail cracked and infested with dead roots protruding from the ground, as if they were a sick mockery of steps.

Varin slowly took a step forward towards the trail, his bare feet taking in the cold ground beneath them.

It was going to be a good walk towards the palace, but Varin had already come so far up to now. What was a little further. He ventured forth. His heart pounding in his chest. A pounding of anxiety, fear…excitement? He could not tell. But deep within him, a rage boiled. A primal rage to see what had become of his home.

He continued.

“So much has changed since you left, Varin.”

The voice echoed with the wind, tickling his ear with a chill that sent a quake up his spine. His fists clenched tightly as he continued.

“But this was not their doing…”

Varin continued through the trail, getting closer. That was when he noticed it.

The trees…

They were not trees…

Twisted faces of pain and fear placed within the bark, limbs split and contorted in various angles representing branches. And the wind that moved the branches…were just their arms desperately reaching for some form of release from their prison.

A plea for death.

Their quiet groans started as a small droning buzz before they started to build and swell to wails.

His hands clasped over his ears as he tried to drown them out.

“Look at them, Varin…Listen to them…”

Varin sneered through his teeth as blood dripped from his ears. Tears welled in his eyes. Crimson tears.

“Feel their pain…”

Varin’s breath hitched as pain radiated within his head. A burning build up crawling through his body before he finally yelled slamming his fists into the ground.

“SILENCE!!!”

The ground quaked beneath his strength. And as if it were a hound in need of discipline, the planets leash was yanked and the planet responded.

The wails ceased, the movement stilled, the carrion silenced and perched amongst the limb-like branches. Watching.

Varin’s bloodied gaze slowly lifted to see the steps of the palace before him. Black stone and metal with red stained glass illuminating like the very fires of war itself.

He slowly stood, climbing the steps towards the doors. Submitting to his presence they opened.

Just inside, he could see the great torches lit aflame. Azure flame lighting the path towards the end of the great hall. A throne.

His throne.

Occupied by another.

Varin stepped in.

“Get out of my chair.”

His voice had deepened to a growl before the armored individual looked at him with a molten gaze that burned with hunger, starvation of war and conquest. Older, patient and calculating.

Varin was looking at himself…older…wiser…

He watched as the man stood from his throne, silent but his presence was loud and clear. The planet bent to Him. The planet obeyed Him.

“No, my son…this is not the work of traitors.”

Darth Mortifer spoke just within Varin’s ear.

“It’s yours…”

The man’s hand shot forth grasping Varin’s throat, cutting off his air supply and easily lifted him as Varin grasped his arm, his fist pounding into the forearm yet no reflex or action was taken.

Lord Varin looked at the helpless fool within his grasp, disgusted with the sight of weakness before him.

The floor split open to reveal a violent ocean of magma, strands of lava reaching out for Varin’s feet as he helplessly was held aloft above it.

“Take your rule…son…”

Those words bore into Varin’s head as he continued fighting.

Then, the grasp let go.

He fell…

Slowly as the heat seemed to envelope him.

A scream escaped his lungs before he jolted awake in his bed. The night still young as sweat beaded from his brow and chest. Deep, heavy and quick breaths was all he could manage as he looked around to see his room once again, and Seren laying beside him. His hand gently rested on her cheek, his thumb slowly running over her cheekbone as he slowly calmed himself.

It was no nightmare he witnessed.

It was a message.