Marked Ones: Advent of the Demon Prince

Zethis of the Raging sands stormed through the halls of his sandstone keep. Riots broke out at the mines managed by Haedda, resulting in the loss of an unfathomable amount of the strange, green metal they desired from Alorek's lands. Not only that, but in her panic, his 'wife's' hold on him vanished. The Marked bitch had taken his mind from him.

Zethis's claws grew in length. His muscles rippled and his joints cracked in preparation for what was to come. "Enaeria!" He roared through the halls. The elven woman dashed from their living quarters the moment she felt her control weaken. "Come out now. Your death will be quick."

Silence met his declaration, though he smelled her fear. She was close. "Enaeria. You took my mind from me. Enchanted me. Stole resources from my land, yet when chaos descends upon my kingdom, you cower and run. Stand and face the future you built, witch!"

Zethis roared and lunged around a corner, his claws shattering the stone over the head of the cowering elf. She yelped helplessly, a puddle appearing beneath her. "Please, Zethis. My love…"

"Do not use that word, you foul witch. Face your crimes. My streets run red with the blood of my men and my people. Brothers attack brothers, screaming inane profanities and declaring the coming of a new age. Your soldiers cower in fear before the might of my citizenry. Even now, this very castle is being filled by rebels because the soldiers you used to replace my own cannot stand the physical prowess of even the weakest of my beastman peoples. Speak, witch!"

"Zethis, I… I don't know whats happening… even my brother is not answering. The paths to Haedda have been sealed I don't…" Enaeria squeaked as his hands closed around her throat. "Please, Zethis, don't. I'll… I'll…"

Light flashed from the mark on her hand. "Filth." He squeezed until he heard a pop. The light faded and the elf's hands dropped limply to her side.

Zethis wheeled around, tossing his 'wife's' body into the oncoming charge of an attacker. A sheep-based beastman charged through the corpse, shrugging off the improvised weapon as if it were less than a pillow. Zethis stepped to the side as the man's head crashed into the wall of his palace. His hands smashed down int the man's spine, cracking it instantly. Foam and blood fizzled out of the sheepman's mouth. His eyes and smile were crazed. It's like the general… are these rebels like all those psychos?

"Let the flames consume! The hellfire of retribution comes for you!" Chants began to echo through Zethis's halls, coming from several more beastmen running his direction.

"Where are my soldiers! Some of my men must remain?" A thought popped into his head. "The counsel chambers! Lady Tierga!"

Zethis stepped dodged the spears and stabs of rebels that had penetrated deeper into his home. None were of any issue for his power and reaction, but their numbers were becoming overwhelming.

"My king!" A soldier ran up to him. His armor was dented, battered and bloody. His face was exhausted. "We thought you lost my liege."

"We? There are more? Where are you, we must flee the palace. Regroup and then retake." He ordered, placing a massive hand on the man's shoulder. Zethis could see the man flinch at the contact before relaxing enough to nearly collapse.

"My king. Our men and the counselors are in the counsel room."

"My honor guard, do they hold the throne still?"

"No. They retreated to the counsel chambers. Not many remain my king."

Zethis cursed. His honor guard were the strongest of his palace's warriors. None passed him, but the loss of their power was great. Shouts echoed through the halls once more, and not the friendly kind. He nodded, following the guard to where he came from. The man explained that a number of them were scouting the halls for him or Enaeria.

"You won't find that witch. She had me under her Mark's spell. She is dead for such treason."

"As you say, my king. Please, inside."

The man immediately turned round, rushing back down the halls. Something Zethis thought to be odd, after all the king was already found. Pulling him away from the stray thought was the flux of mana within the room. "Tierga!" He shouted, stepping into the room.

Filling it were most of the counselors, many battered and bruised. Several soldiers were receiving treatment, though many were beyond help. Tierga, as was to be expected, stood healthily in the center of the room. She turned around to face him, a scowl quickly turning into a smile. "Zethis, you live?"

"Of course! Zethis of the Raging Sands cannot be bested so easily."

"Except by a pretty woman?"

"You knew?" Zethis growled.

"Of course. You do not get to be my age and not recognize a charm or two. But at that time the kingdom was not in danger, so I stayed impartial."

"The kingdom was under threat! Because of that woman's meddling we are falling." Zethis roared. Tierga's power as his country's only Empyrean terrified him, but his anger was stronger than fear. "If you knew, you should have intervened. This country is falling because of her. Because of you!"

"Indeed. Alorek seems to be taking its final breath." The woman said sadly. "It was a future I was aware of, but never thought would come."

"Help us fight then. Help me escape. As its king, as long as I breath, so too does our nation. Tierga, please! Help me." Zethis switched from anger to begging. Anything to get her to help. He would swallow his anger and pride for this.

"As long as you breath so too does our nation…" Tierga's words grew colder. The movement throughout the room stopped. Those treating the injured allowed the blood to run free once more. The counselors' eyes fell on him, isolating him. Zethis knew something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

"The hellfire of retribution comes for you, Zethis." Tierga whispered. "They come for us all. They will consume everything, leaving behind only ashes from which our future will grow. A place in that world does not exist for you, Zethis."

"What? Wait. You. Are you one of those psychos?" Zethis's eyes grew wide. "No. That can't be."

"I've been shown things. Things you could never understand. Things you never will. He comes for us all. We must ready this place for his ascension, Zethis. Your body and the bodies of the unworthy will kindle his flames. Your blood and soul consumed for his growth."

Zethis's mouth moved, but no sound came out. The room spun for a moment before it was brought to a sudden stop. His own body stood, headless with claws ready to strike. Then like a puppet without strings, it fell.

"Goodbye, Zethis. May your soul feed Him."