The Reaper King

Chapter 9: Son of The Terror pt. 3

Henry brushed aside a cloud of dandelion tufts swaying gently in the late winter wind. The divine nephilim lord gazed levelly at the 13 year old prince, halfway to being 14, seated upon his magically imbued stone, cultivating beside the lord's older, also divine brother.

'He's growing at a decent pace,' Henry admitted to himself begrudgingly, 'but he's still nowhere near the level of his cousins, nor the other 6 imperial houses' princes and princesses.'

Henry's brow creased slightly, a millions thoughts raced through his head, hidden behind his perfect golden and blue eyes.

'Not to mention the lesser royals,' he groaned inwardly, 'nor the scions of the noble houses, nor even the rising stars of the Illuminated Ecclesiarchy's acolytes. It will be a massive pain... unless...'

The lord was momentarily ripped from his pondering as a sudden explosion of power rocked the gentle grotto that safely hid the Sympathetic Ground the two were cultivating in.

His brother's form had barely changed, as the viscount remained meditating unbothered as if nothing had happened, but Prince Damien had changed massively. It had been a week since Damien's anointing ceremony, but Henry had never forgotten its events. Not once. After all, it wasn't often an Archbishop of the Illuminated Ecclesiarchy was brought to heel, especially not one as old or as influential as Archbishop Theodorus Maxwell.

And yet even that was a moot point.

The presence of an angel... especially a Power was not something that was ever taken lightly by any in the Mortal Realms, especially not by the Nephilim. Especially when the visitor was one of the holy exalted closest to the throne of The Almighty itself. A creature that had actually seen the great being with its own holy eyes appearing and personally anointing the crown prince, had caused a massive ripple effect to take place across the entire congregation of those at the manor. Though each and every last Nephilim chosen to staff the manor had been sworn, threatened, and hexed to secrecy many times over as to not reveal the existence of the imperial crown prince, it didn't stop them from feverishly conversing amongst themselves about the miracle they had witnessed.

Even though none of the manor staff could answer any of the myriad calls pouring in nonstop from their friends and families about the strange glowing of the many great statues, while feigning ignorance, they still gossiped shamelessly about how the strange event had rocked the entire empire. Every faction with any sort of power was expecting something big to happen, yet none knew what.

Lazily, Henry's eyes drifted from Prince Damien's jet black reaper mask, hiding the imperial crown prince's angelized face, down to his bladed wings. The soft reflections of light bouncing off each individual razor sharp, blade-like feather arrested Henry's attention like a bear trap.

Those wings that had thoroughly expunged the silently growing discomfort and discontent Henry had been sensing coming through the intents of some of the many flavors of Nephilim staffing the D'amorn house manor, had also reignited the lord's beliefs in the top secret plans that had once seemed nothing short of absolute madness. Even when Empress Hoaquin herself had personally briefed the noble on what she needed him to do, the divine lord's mind screamed in fear behind the cool, collected exterior with which he returned the great being's level gaze.