Chapter 9 Part 4

Miguel Blackheart sat on the throne of his father. The events of the last few days had occurred quickly and unexpectedly. He had been working on a contract with the Dukes of Hell when the tremor that had apparently shaken the entire world had caught his attention. He had instantly known that someone had attacked the Godking.

He thought that it had been the three from the other world, but when he arrived at the source of the tremor, in Gly-ou-vogue, what he found had been overwhelming. The monstrosity that stood in the wasteland had looked like a giant blob with hundreds of tentacles. It had closely resembled a giant tree trunk that had had its trunk severed just below the first branch with hundreds of roots reaching deeply into the ground sucking up nourishment to try to regrow what had been lost.

The thing had instantly lashed out with a pair of tentacles and one had taken his companion, an efreeti that had transported him to the location. The efreeti, a devil creature of flame and smoke, had wailed and thrashed as it was consumed. The devil attacked with every bit of magic at its command but for naught. In a blink it was devoured and the second tentacle had seized up Miguel.

For the first time in his life he had been too scared to act. The thing was invincible and deep down he had known it.

But, for some reason it did not devour him. It was as if a great mind was in control of the monster. The tentacle buried itself in his forehead and touched his mind. "You are my chosen one," it had said to him. "I am Lasir-Tafucen. I am from a time before the Overlords. It was my voice that urged the gods to defy the creator. I am the spirit that whispered in the Godking's ear and told him of the glory that could be had. He heeded my words and became the ruler of this realm. I am the song that ran through your father's blood and led him to godhood. I am the reason that echoed in your uncle's ears and promised him all magic. I taught the warlock how to twist the spell of creation to create that which you now behold."

Miguel recalled with a shudder at how the images had been revealed to him of how his family's great heritage had been a sham and that it had all been arranged by the thing called Lasir-Tafucen. He recalled how he had not had a choice when it made its offer to him as well.

"In the way that it has been with all my chosen," the voice had told him, "I will make you great beyond all dreams. You will sit on the throne of Keron and you will rule over all lands and through you will I manifest my laws."

Miguel had wondered at what the catch would be and had been astonished at what had been requested.

"Seek the Tome of Creation," it had said. "Bring it to me and you shall be my son again. You shall be the immortal father of a race of conquerors that shall escape the confines of the blue warden and capture the stars."

The thing had even gone so far as to tell him exactly where the Tome had been taken. It had then transported him to the inner sanctum of his own keep. It was an impressive feat since that part of the keep was warded with spells generally considered impenetrable.

Miguel had quickly summoned his scribes and retired to the royal office where the tapestry of the world hung. He had to locate the Janus Valley, and then he had to attack.
Miguel looked at the palm of his hands. They were bone white. It was the mark of the Abomination, Lasir-Tafucen. Anyone he laid both his hands on would be spared the life draining power of the Abomination.

Already his personal guard were marked with the new symbol of House Blackheart. Gone was the cobra head. Gone was the Serpentine Dynasty. The white hand was the new mark of Blackheart.

The song of Lasir-Tafucen sang in his heart and Miguel would soon change even his name to that of Whitehand. Then, the world would tremble and bow at his feet as he ruled from the throne in Keron.

A queen he would select to rule with him. He would choose her for her ability to lead and her devotion to him, but his concubines, and there would be many of them, he would choose to satisfy his desires.

Miguel gazed around the once proud hall of House Blackheart. The walls were covered in rich materialistic decorations. The young monarch laughed at the folly of those who had come before him. His father, his uncle, even the Godking had been fooled by visions of glory and power.

Miguel would not be so deceived. He knew that Lasir-Tafucen intended to be supreme. For Miguel there could only be servitude, but even slaves had rank and to be the king of the slaves under Lasir-Tafucen, was to be the king of all the world. He would have to answer to only one.

That was a station, he could live with. He would be the son of Lasir-Tafucen. He would be the new god's prophet and messiah.