by Matt Russell
Again, Cassian said nothing, though his stomach twisted at the naked threat. He could not warn Livia of the danger looming over her. His sister’s telepathic mind was not developed enough for such long distance communication, and there was no telling how long it would take her to build it up. She was entirely untrained in magic and could not likely defend herself from imperial assassins.
"I have no wish at all to harm the girl," Tacitus said, his tone quiet and serious. "All the same, her life is not worth plunging this empire into civil war. Neither, even, is yours."
"What is this understanding at which you wish us to arrive?" Cassian said. He felt caged, and it angered him. Gambling with his own life was one thing, but doing so with his sister, who had been robbed of her birthright and forced into a life of slavery, was quite another.
"Tell me, my boy," the Emperor said, taking a slow step toward him, "did you warn that girl not to tell the world what she was?"
Cassian hesitated for a long moment, then said: "No."
Tacitus let out a sarcastic chuckle and said: "I see. Well, presumably she will be coming here to the capital to meet her savior."
"Presumably," Cassian said, but he knew the assumption was incorrect. In the few moments he had been in Livia's mind, he had caught many impressions that had slowly unraveled in the hours since. One was of a missing little sister who had been wrongfully taken. He had caught a sense of Livia’s character and did not believe she would embark on a glamorous visit to the capital when someone she loved was in peril. Tacitus did not seem to know this, nor did he appear to know about the secret help Cassian had sent her.
"We have some time to prepare then," the Emperor sighed, seeming to relax—even smiling. "It will matter little if some mute girl makes claims of being a starborn in a few inns on the road. Still, she will have to be dealt with once she reaches this city."
"Dealt with how?"
"However best serves this empire," Tacitus replied, gazing into Cassian's eyes. "You and I are long overdue for a talk, my boy. There are decisions of grave importance to be made."
Cassian drew in a breath, calming himself as best he could, then said: "I am listening."
“Good,” Tacitus said with a nod, “for there is much I need to tell you.” He steepled his fingers in front of his chest. “We must begin when I became emperor. You may know I was scarcely older than you are now. At that time, our people were a straggling pack of dogs in the wilderness. We did not have great cities as we now do, but really memories of cities.” The Emperor’s eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Can you even imagine it? Cracked and burned walls, long dried aqueducts, forgotten libraries full of inaccessible knowledge. All the problems you cast your disapproving eyes upon today would have been luxuries to our people then. I faced children starving in the streets – not simply poor children, because the distinction of wealth had ceased to have much meaning. The famine was a tactic. Daibok and his demonic army had salted the earth and killed the wildlife so that humanity had no choice but to turn to him. Many did, and this in and of itself became a dire problem.”
Tacitus cast Cassian a level look. “You took several walled cities in your brief military career that were thought to be all but impenetrable. Tell me, did you have agents inside?”
“I did,” Cassian said, swallowing as he thought of one soldier in particular he had turned. The man had been in charge of the city gates, and he had quietly allowed virtually Cassian’s entire army inside over several weeks. When the time came, the organized troops had taken the city almost before the ruler knew they were there. This had spared a great deal of bloodshed of course, but Cassian could only imagine what a similarly turned individual might do for invading hordes of demons who had no desire for bloodless victory.
“Many think of Daibok and his legions as crude, unthinking monsters,” Tacitus sighed, “but they were every bit as clever as we were, and far, far more ruthless.” The Emperor exhaled slowly through his nose. “You would scarcely believe it today from the way the Nemesai have marched about, torturing sinners, but they were incredibly useful to me back when I was trying to save the human race from obliteration. They could sniff out the dissenters – the ones who had pledged themselves to Daibok. The harsh policies Bishop Cromlic implemented ultimately saved thousands upon thousands of lives and very possibly helped turn the tide of the war."
Tacitus moved closer and put a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. "You were not alive back then. You grew up in the world that I created." His fingers tightened as he added: "I am sorry – truly sorry – for what happened to your mother. Every Gods-damned thing you create manages to find a way to become corrupt as long as there are humans making the decisions. You may find that out one day if you don't have your head so deep into your own ideals to realize it. Still, the actions I took were necessary. You have no idea what an unthinkable paradise it was fifty years ago to have a world where a newborn had greater than one-in-ten odds of surviving. You never witnessed any of the horrors of that primitive age because I solved them."
Cassian swallowed before saying: "I have never held you or your accomplishments in anything less than the full extent of my esteem." Then he straightened as he added: "Yet progress must continue. I only seek to build upon the great work that you once took up and advance our people."
"Yes-s-s-s," the Emperor said with a sigh as if Cassian were speaking of something childish. "What you need to understand for this conversation to progress is that our people would have more or less ceased to exist if not for certain key decisions." Tacitus stepped back, releasing Cassian’s shoulder. "I am going to tell you how I saved our people. I only ask that you set aside your moral certitude and preconceptions and listen to me with a truly open mind for a few moments. Can you do that?"
"Yes," Cassian said, swallowing. His attention was utterly rapt.
The Emperor stroked his brow and exhaled: "I would like you to picture pious men and women kneeling in temples, praying to the Gods for help. All over the empire, countless millions reacted to the encroachment of the demons in this manner. So many ran to the church for help that the temples could not contain them, and priests had to hold sermons in the streets." The muscles around Tacitus's eyes tightened as he said: "Tell me, Cassian, for you are an excellent student of history, what did their prayers avail them?"
"Nothing," Cassian said.
"Nothing at all," Tacitus muttered through his teeth. "The entire eastern border of Denigoth fell within a few weeks. Here in the west, the damage is not so obvious, but on the other end of this continent, there are still ruins of cities. Hundreds of thousands were slaughtered. We believed it was the end of the world..." his voice broke off, and he shut his eyes. "Sometimes the dark army would give their victims a choice: either consume demon blood and become one of the immortal damned or be put to a horrible death. Would you believe that most chose the latter? Even as they watched their families die, they clung to their faith."
Cassian frowned. What was the purpose of this speech? It sounded almost like an indictment of religion.
"I prayed as well," the Emperor whispered. "As I am sure you know, I was not the intended heir to the throne. I abdicated, just as your brother Telemachus did." Tacitus let out a soft chuckle. "I wanted a simpler life—to be among the people. I was on a pilgrimage in the west when the attacks began. By the time I even knew what was happening, three of my starborn siblings were dead, and two elders from the previous generation as well. They had been much closer to the threat and, of course, had tried to act." The Emperor swallowed. "No one living at that time had seen the Demon King—no one realized how horribly powerful he had grown. He cut my brethren down like they were nothing."
With his heart racing, Cassian asked his Emperor the question he had longed to for most of his life: "How did you defeat him?"
"With a sacrifice," Tacitus said in a grave whisper. He gazed at Cassian, his face filled with pain. "An Emperor is sometimes forced to make very hard decisions, my boy, and none in history so much so
as myself. Can you even imagine my position? Thousands dying every day... all looking to me to save them from something I could not begin to overcome. Tell me, Cassian, what would you have done in my place?"
"I... do not know.”
"Neither did I," Tacitus said in an icy whisper. "I spent countless hours begging the Gods for help, but they did not answer, and, privately, I began to hate the celestial beings to whom the human race had built countless temples. They offered me nothing, but...” The Emperor locked eyes with Cassian as he said: “I was a starborn, capable of extending my consciousness outward in search of... other help."
"What did you do?" Cassian said, barely able to find his voice.
"I saved our people," Tacitus said, and he gazed down at the floor for a moment, seeming to consider his words. "I am about to reveal to you the deepest secrets of this empire, Crown Prince, and then I shall present you with a choice. If you do not choose correctly, you will die."
Cassian's muscles tightened. He looked around at the craith, remembering how relentless their attack had been on him weeks before. They were not the real danger though.
"Your power," Cassian whispered, "it is greater than anything I ever dreamed a starborn could achieve. It is not natural, is it?"
"No," Tacitus sighed.
Cassian thought he felt his heart sink into his stomach as he rasped: "You are a demon."
Tacitus's face did not change except that something in his cold, intelligent eyes confirmed the suspicion. He gave no hint that he was either ashamed or proud, but rather he seemed to be studying Cassian. After a moment, he said: "I made a bargain. It is because of that bargain that you, Telemachus, Keska, and more or less our entire race now draw breath."
Cassian felt numb. The enormity of this revelation was too great to process.
"Tell me, boy," Tacitus said, his thick eyebrows knitted together, "what would you do to keep your people alive? Consider all the horrible sins you have committed in the name of this Empire. Would you go further if it meant you could save the human race from annihilation? I chose to do so, knowing what it would cost me. Would you call that courage or cowardice?"
"I... I do not know," Cassian said in a very dry voice, and this was the truth. He stared at the Emperor. If what Tacitus was saying were true, then the man was damned – truly and horribly damned. After a long moment, Cassian swallowed and said: "Let me see it."
Tacitus did not need to know what Cassian meant. He gave a nod and lowered the veil he had somehow constructed around his own power. As soon as it was done, Cassian physically staggered and nearly fell to his knees. The Emperor's aura was sickening. The only word that came to Cassian's mind was ‘evil.’ The scope of power coursing through the elder starborn overwhelmed his senses. The only thing in the world that compared to it was Promethiock himself.
"Yes," Tacitus said softly. "Only another starborn could ever truly understand what I had to sacrifice, and what I gained." He raised the barrier around his power, and Cassian could breathe again. “I have held this secret for nearly fifty years.”
"I am deeply sorry, my Emperor.” Cassian reached up and wiped a heavy layer of sweat from his forehead. Merely perceiving the darkness in Tacitus had been physically taxing. He could only imagine what the man felt with it coursing through him.
"I have no need of your pity, my boy. I simply wish you to understand. This was the cost of our people's existence. Since the gods could not or would not help us, I turned to another source. A demon was watching from the cosmos—one older and stronger than the deities who claim dominion over the human souls of this world. His name... is Bacchid."
The word seemed to conjure a ripple in the universe, and Cassian jolted back, panting. This was true darkness... For a long moment, he did not speak but only rolled all of this strange and terrible information around in his mind, considering Tacitus's every word. All the while, he was conscious of the Emperor watching him.
"You said I must make a choice in this chamber,” Cassian finally said. “I imagine this cosmic demon desires another starborn in his retinue."
"Yes-s-s," Tacitus said, "and you are his chosen one. He is deeply impressed by your strength of will, as am I."
"Why do either of you need me?” Cassian hissed, suddenly glaring. “Our people are already protected. I imagine all that demonic power could provide you with many thousands of years of unnatural life. Why do you need an heir at all?"
"You are not to be my heir, Cassian," the Emperor said, a strange excitement beginning to grow in his eyes. "You are to be my partner in the great task that lies ahead. You and I will bring order to the human race as it has never known." The sides of Tacitus’s mouth curled up. "We will drive the Gods you hate so much from this world. If you have the courage now to do what is required, you will be able to create every aspect of the perfect and equal society you imagine. End slavery, end intolerance, educate the masses, and usher in an entirely new code of ethics that does not rely on the vague and ambiguous will of abstract and unknowable deities. You will possess eternal life and near godlike power so that you may ensure your creation is never corrupted."
Cassian stared down at the stone floor beneath him. He could feel his hands trembling. Could he actually consider such a thing—to become a demon?
"You are the Messiah, Cassian," Tacitus continued. "The gods who allowed your own mother to be executed in their name have the arrogance to presume you their servant. Refuse them! They would not help our people in their darkest hour any more than they helped you. Spit in their faces! You have the free will. That is what it is to be human!"
"How does one accomplish such a thing?" Cassian said in a soft whisper. The clarity and decisiveness with which he lived his life had never been further from him.
"With sin, I am afraid," Tacitus said in a somber voice. "Come." The Emperor walked to the wall to the left of his throne and waved his hand. One of the stone blocks dislodged itself from the wall and floated down to the floor. Behind where it had rested, unearthly green light radiated, bathing Tacitus’s face. He reached into a hidden chamber and retrieved a blazing green orb roughly the size of a skull. Inside what appeared to be a spherical barrier of crystal, a glowing storm of emerald whirled in silent fury.
"What is that?" Cassian said, feeling a chill pass through him. His senses were somehow unable to penetrate the outer shell, but some part of him knew the object to be malevolent.
"This is a plague," Tacitus said. "It is perhaps the most terrible pestilence this world has ever seen, and you will release it." He held the orb out to Cassian.
With trembling hesitation, Cassian took the unholy object in his hands and was surprised to find it had virtually no weight. It was only tangentially physical matter from what he could tell, existing in a state of almost pure and unnatural energy.
"Wonderful, is it not?" Tacitus whispered. "It was forged in the deepest pits of hell just for you."
Cassian stared into the sphere. It seemed to gaze into his soul as if alive. "Will this kill people?"
"Not our people, Cassian. It is a mystical pestilence that is deadly only to one race – the only one that might actually pose a threat to us – the elves."
Cassian's heart began to slam in his chest. Immediately he thought of Thalice. This sin was designed perfectly for him—the ultimate betrayal of the only girl with whom he had ever shared his heart. He could scarcely begin to imagine the scope of dark magic reeling in his hands. How many thousands of years might it have taken to create? All of it must have been in anticipation for this moment—for his choice.
"I must murder the one I love most," Cassian rasped. He understood the sacrifice. The sin would destroy his soul. He would no longer be human, but a hollow shell in which the powers of an ancient demon could reside.
Tacitus patted him on the arm and whispered: "The sacrifice is terrible, I know. It will be the hardest thing you ever do, but once you release this darkness into the world, your heart will harden. In a wa
y you cannot yet imagine, you will be free, and you will wield power of a magnitude no mortal but I has ever known."
Cassian let his mind touch the orb's energy. The demonic magic filled his psyche with images of death. The plague would spread out into the world the instant he willed it, and in every corner of every continent, elves would sicken and perish. None would escape the horrible wave. Such was the power of the cosmic demon Tacitus served, yet all of it was dependent upon a single mortal. This, Cassian understood in a moment of clarity, was the strange balance between humans and the Gods and Demons. Their vast, other-dimensional power could only come into the world through the free will of a mortal. It all came down to his decision, and, if done, the sin would be entirely his.
"Make your choice, Asango," Tacitus said. "Join me, or I will be forced to kill you here and now."
Cassian's heart burning, he made his decision. Sweat dripped down his face as he willed the membrane that housed the terrible plague to vanish back into the ether from whence it had come. The swirling green magic floated between his hands, subject entirely to his will. The godlike power was unbelievable— control over the life of an entire race. He knew in that moment the deepest truth in his own heart.
"Goodbye, my love," he whispered. Then he willed all the power in his starborn body at once and destroyed the demonic plague.
"NO!" Tacitus screamed as the dark spell vanished in a brilliant emerald flare. "DAMN YOU!" Cassian felt the tremendous power of the Emperor wrap around him and squeeze. "YOU LITTLE FOOL!"
"HUAH!" Cassian cried out as he felt his left arm snap in two places along with several of his ribs. Force beyond comprehension crushed in on his skin, in his throat and even in his eyes.
"You pathetic little COWARD!" Tacitus made a sharp gesture, and Cassian was brought down to his knees. He could no more resist the power than a human child might resist the strength of an ogre.
Death was about to come. Cassian willed all of his memories of this incident to Telemachus along with the command:
