There are monsters, and then there are monsters. This is the story of two, both driven by righteous causes.
A male who orchestrated terrible deeds in the name of the greater good.
Another defined by his corrosive hate, burning vengeance, and desire...
Herod unlocked the drawer of his study table and pulled out a box. Within, wrapped in velvet pouches, lay a collection of stones. Each had a different shape and texture that embodied the potential leaders that could someday change their collective future. They were also an ornery bunch, and he often had to force them to take their place on the board he'd constructed in his mind.
He searched for a shard. "Áine." The rough edges of the blob of lava cut into his palm.
Again, he had pushed someone he adored into the flames. How else could he discover if they were a phoenix unless they rose from the ashes?
"Inform Charles to have the surgeons on standby. I'm ready." He extracted an opal, brooding over what to do with the individual it represented. He slipped it into the small bag and tied the drawstrings. For now, he'd let certain dogs lie.
"How does she look?" he queried, cursing his inability to study her. She wouldn't allow him to touch her. So, he depended on others to describe her to him.
"No clue. The hood was covering her face. It's her armor, veiling her in public, even when she plays." Hans muttered. "Hawk says she was a youngling cherished by a loving mother, pampered by her uncles; and happy when we met her yesterday. She entered your sanctum, tormented and traumatized."
"Life is no bed of roses. She'll tolerate the thorns." Such was the burden of the legacy their bloodline had inherited.
"You want me to translate that? Voice it to him?" Hans asked Hawk. He sighed and mumbled, "Hawk's asking why you're tormented by why your fated rejected you. Of the few offspring you spawned still alive, do any not detest you? He can't recall if you have an amicable relationship with any of your descendants. I think he means your high-handedness has cost you dearly."
Herod hadn't anticipated how much that observation hurt. Most revered him and regaled the youngling with tales of how he had fathered a new world. But he only had these two nitwits.
"Oh, Hawk's opinion doesn't matter. He predicted the USCA would fail, yet here we are. I wasn't to be of this realm this long, yet here I am. He declared his seer foretold my kismet. Did any of those prophecies come true? He forgets I am Herod Oppenheimer, the last living Berserker, and I know what I am doing."
"As you fancy yourself a god, I pray she is the heretic who will tear you from the false pedestal and destroy your legend," Hans retorted.
"Pray to whom? If those who fabricated the said gods knew we existed, they'd decree us the devil's creations," he snorted.
As per this daft analogy, Áine had to become an, no, his avenging archangel... not a cherub playing a violin.
With a wave, he dismissed Hans and Hawk. They left, locking him in his office within the Colosseum, where he was safe, but these walls imprisoned him. He longed for the heat of the desert winds, sand between his toes, the sun burning his skin, and her...
The temptation to reach out to her tormented him again.
Was his destined mate waiting for him? Or had she found another? She'd branded him a betrayer and exiled him from her lands. She'd also spared him and sent Hawk, her twin brother, to safeguard him for two centuries. His presence also ensured he dared not deceive her people.
Now they were enemies...
Herod tugged his beard. "You won't have her anymore, my love. She is mine," he whispered, hoping Inia heard him.
In case he perished, best he moved a seminal player he'd squirreled away with the most virtuous and decent individuals he'd ever known. One that'd exceeded his expectations. But they were young... it might be too early...
After removing the egg-sized, smooth opal, he kissed it. "No more hiding. You were born to shine, Kirkland. Dazzle us." He hoped the fates were kinder to this darling babe of his.
"Call Elron Loupa," he announced.
Thankfully, the machine didn't argue before doing the needful. And with move that he'd unleashed the Age of Heretics.
Only he could see the future belonged to the unbelievers. The rebels. The rogues. The outliers. So he set them free.
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Sorry about the long silence. I had to rewrite chunks and edit Alpha X to avoid an inadvertent pothole that popped up. Expect weekly update from now onwards.
