Origins (Book 4 of Alfireán age)

The Evils of the Past

Vackzilian laid back in his silken sheets and breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. While things weren't going exactly to plan, everything had been set in motion, and it was only a matter of time before things fell in place. Soon, all the blueprint pieces would be in his hands and his true enemy would fall at his feet.

As he sank into the royal mattress, Vackzilian flicked his hand and the scrying table at the foot of his bed sprang to life. A scene long before the Age of the Dragons played out across a watery screen.

"Five, four, three, two, one. We have ignition," a voice declared as an enormous rocket spewed fire and slowly blasted off the ground.

A longing smile spread across Vackzilian's narrow face as he watched the rocket rise into the air. The dragons had stolen mankind's future and confined them to this planet. But Vackzilian would give it back and free humans from the shackles of earth. He would eliminate all who opposed him and put an end to that which plagued him. Then he would see mankind climb back into the heavens where they would colonize the stars as their rightful birthright.

The rocket disappeared into the sky with a final rumble and the scrying table auto-played the next scrying.

"Ritvinsin!" Drakovian the second's voice thundered as the scrying picked back up where Vackzilian had stopped it last.

Vackzilian raised an eyebrow at the scene as the sound of crackling rock filled the room. His petrification spell crawled up the face of the former emperor as Drakovian struggled helplessly against it. With a warping flash, Varlin and the elite guard charged. Teleporting across the room, they tried to come to their emperor's aid, only to be deflected and then split in half as the Vackzilian in the scrying disrupted their teleportation.

It wasn't exactly bedtime content, but Vackzilian leaned deeper into his pillows and watched as he seized control of his empire.

One by one, the defenders fell before him. Until, the last guard died in a blaze of glory.

"Humph," Vackzilian grunted, as Ritilion said his foolish last words, and he taught the High Lord his final lesson. As the remaining High Lords bowed, Vackzilian smiled in triumph and leaned back in his throne.

"'Tis so sweet to see twenty years of planning come to fruition," Vackzilian cooed to himself. But as the scrying neared its end, a bloody boot moved on the corner of the screen, and his countenance fell.

Throwing back the sheets, he reached out and paused the scrying. Then he slowly rewound it.

Sure enough, the foot of an elite bodyguard moved and slid out of view.

Vackzilian rose out of bed, threw on his cloak, and marched out of the room. Seconds later, he reached the security room and stomped in.

Bringing up the recordings of the throne room from that day, he scanned them. But all Vackzilian could find was that one shot of the moving bloody boot; all the other recordings had been focused on different areas of the throne room as they tracked the fight.

"This is a loose end I can ill afford," Vackzilian grumbled, his topaz eyes narrowing. Rubbing his chin, he formed a scrying and contacted the head of the palace guard.

A groggy, unshaven face appeared on the watery screen.

"What? Who-" he started to say when he recognized Vackzilian's face. He quickly shut his mouth as he gave a quick salute.

"Pull out the bodies of the elite guards and reassemble them. I want to know if one of them is missing!" Vackzilian commanded.

***

The green arrow on the tablet led Alf back into the confusing corridors of the lab. After what seemed like an eternity, he entered a new room with medical beds, cloning vats, and testing equipment.