Edwin sat upon his throne obsidian black stone laced with shimmering gems, carved with symbols of conquest and legacy. His crown, forged from dark gold and encrusted with jewels, gleamed under the flicker of a lone torch at the far end of the great hall. The chamber was vast, silent, and empty. Only the flame moved.
"I am royalty," Edwin thought. "I am a prince. I am…"
He hesitated. "…Edwin."
The name echoed in his mind like a forgotten melody. He hadn't said his own name in years. Then a voice deep, commanding resounded within him.
"Young Prince. You are truly becoming great." Edwin replied silently, Thank you. You can't deny the truth.
"Indeed. You've become more than Lucifer ever imagined." The king is mighty. I wish to reach his level one day.
"An ambitious dream, my lord." Then barely audible a soft whisper stirred.
"But at what cost?" Edwin froze. The deep voice returned, sharper now.
"Young Prince, all that matters is the dream we set out to fulfill." The whisper persisted.
"But whose dream?" The deep voice snapped, its tone rising.
"This voice is a threat. A parasite. A danger to our future."
Edwin remained silent, listening.
"Edwin," the whisper said gently, "there is still time to do right."
That pierced him. After all the bloodshed, the massacres, the merciless executions there was still hope?
The deep voice roared, now demonic. "You are pesticides! Poison! Push it out, Prince! For our goals. For your survival!"
Edwin trembled. The voices clashed like thunder in his skull. "Push it out now!"
He lowered his head. "I am a prince of….darkness," he whispered.
The soft voice wept. A sound barely heard but felt. "Good," the deep voice said. "Stay focused." "I am listening."
"I am the only one who truly wants to see you rise." Edwin nodded. "The only one."
"Yes. The only one." Then Edwin's eyes narrowed. A chill ran through him. "I sense…" he whispered. "…Thomas."