Standing in total darkness, the seven conspirators stood side-by-side with military precision, facing east awaiting the incoming rays of the rising star. This ritual, referred to as The Ordeal, was designed to choose amongst them he who should claim the throne as emperor. Future historians would claim that this ceremony was a farce, that the identity of the new emperor had been preselected, and that it was he who had orchestrated the daring ambush in the sacred temple in the valley of the Magi.
Outnumbered three-to-one, his brethren urged restraint. Was it not better to wait until reinforcements arrived to tip the odds in their favor? But their bold leader disagreed. They had the element of surprise on their side, he argued, and a contingent of greater numbers would trigger alarm. If the Magis were alerted to the presence of danger, they would surround their young prince to form an impenetrable shield.
But an assassination party of only seven soldiers?
Yes. The superior military tactic was to be bold and few: to strike, and to strike swiftly, with neither fear, nor hesitation.
The conspirators slipped through the outer gates of the compound and infiltrate the emperor’s personal chambers before their presence raised concern. By then, the elite members of emperor’s personal guard had already been cut down. The young prince, newly crowned and untested in the art of combat, proved stout of heart and would not be put down easily. There would be neither barter, nor surrender. If they were to take what was rightfully his they would have to fight. It was a holy battle. A microcosm of the inevitable tournament between good versus evil, of heaven versus hell.
The young prince grabbed the nearby object and with it to conjure his the most powerful sorcery. Bravely he fought, with skills sharpened by the superior training he had been taught from a young age. In the confined space of his quarters, red bolts of lightening and blue fireballs flew in all directions. Mid-air collisions released dipoles of that warped the medium of surrounding energy. Orders warbled and screams muted. Solid stone walls were pulverized, reduced to dust and ash. Metals boiled and bubbled, releasing noxious fumes into the air. Crystals and gemstones imbued by magic vanished with no trace. Flesh melted and vaporized. Skeletons exploded into a thousands shards of bone. Those who survived would carry grotesque scars as a permanent reminder of their glorious victory. A victory owed to the superior bravery and intellect of their fearless leader and the infallibility of the Creator whom they vowed to serve.
When the dust settled and the smoke swept away by powerful winds, the young prince lie amongst those who had fallen. The remaining Magi, guards, servants, and courtesans panicked and scattered in a futile effort to escape. Those who thought to take flight were the first to be hunted down, drained of their vitality, and exterminated. Severed heads from lifeless corpses were mounted upon rows of stakes placed along the perimeter of the compound as a warning to anyone who felt duty-bound to lay chase. The message scripted with the entrails of the slain:
Honor brings death.
To prevent the young prince from becoming a martyr, his corpse mutilated, burned, and buried, the location of his grave to remain a mystery for all time.
However, the assassination of the rightful prince was insufficient. For in order to rule, it was necessary to convince his subjects that the murdered prince was in fact not a prince at all, but rather an imposter. A usurper. An enemy who had assumed the identity of the true prince, who, to their shock and horror, had long since been executed, his corpse desecrated, and his remains buried somewhere in the remote valley of the Sollang pass. Furthermore, false rumors were spread, warning of the treacherous Magi who had betrayed their solemn oath by orchestrating the devious plot themselves. Vilified, the remaining Magis within the surrounding provinces were hunted down and summarily executed.
The successful coup left but one task unfulfilled, the Ordeal, a ritual designed to choose which amongst the brave conspirators would take the crown. It was a test intended to reveal which of these seven warriors would rule. A trial designed to identify he whom the divine Creator had imbued with the wisdom, strength, and will to serve as the ambassador to the unholiest of all realms. For ultimately, they were vessels representing the will of the Creator. They were earthly pawns in a war of good versus evil, and after a lifetime of preparation, their prophetic moment had arrived. Summoned by the Creator, their devotion pure, their demeanor solemn, and their obedience, absolute. The objective of the Creator was beyond the comprehension of earthly mortals. Therefore, it was not their place to question his will:
Seize control of the light. Spread the darkness. Exterminate the infidels.
As the jagged horizon began to glow, the seven assassins waited with nervous anticipation of the excruciating effects of the blinding and painful radiation. The sky melted from black to dark purple, then began to glow in a spectrum of pink, orange, and green. The small patch of light blue sky aroused panic within those not quite so brave, their fear betrayed by the fidgeting and restlessness of the horses upon which they sat.
It was now only a matter of moments until the first rays of dawn made contact with the earth beneath their feet. Stripped of protective armor, the high-energy ultraviolet light would penetrate their tender translucent skin. Their exposed flesh would blister and smolder. The penetrating radiation would disintegrate the structure of their cells until they burst. Their outer flesh would decompose. Their blood boil. The flames would strip their flesh down to the bone. The pain itself often lethal. He who was the strongest, the most worthy — he who had been chosen to rule by the Creator — would be the last to scream. The last to bow and bend the knee.
As the yellow star rose above the iron peaks, those who considered themselves unworthy wasted no time in conceding defeat. They dismounted and fell to the earth onto their knees, cloaking their bodies with protective armor. By acknowledging defeat, the gesture of humility and loyalty would permit their survival. Those who challenged the chosen one by failing to submit would be seen as a threat and eliminated along with the whole of their kin and clan.
The story of the Ordeal would be passed on to future generations through epic poems and narrative songs. The legend often concluded with speculation that the ritual itself was at best a farce, and at worst, a diabolical ruse. One plausible theory spoke of a cheat that involved a stolen formula for an organic extract used to absorb and block the sun’s damaging rays. But this was followed with the rebuttal that, even if this were true, was it not the Creator who chose the victor by providing him with this secret formula?
Regardless, all who tell the tale agree on one point: the remaining six Magi offered no resistance as their new emperor seized absolute power. He choose for himself the name Mystacin I, or, Mystacin the Great, and soon the known world fell underneath his his iron fist.
His devout disciples encircled him, chanting in a display of religious devotion, fervent faith, and absolute loyalty and obedience:
ONLY THE CREATOR SHALL GRANT US VICTORY!
These faithful servants known as the Diogani (which translates to either successors, or, perfects) were given important assignments and high ranking positions in distant kingdoms securing strategic control of occupied territories. Then, a highly organized military campaign would swiftly seize outlying regions. Lands gifted with an abundance of natural resources and civilizations rich with wealth and resources were the first to be conquered.
ONLY OUR WORSHIP [of the Creator] SHALL GRANT US POWER!
Throughout the land, individuals considered a threat were swiftly executed. Like an arrow flying through the darkness, their fate unforeseen until it was too late. Structured like a web spun by a spider, a network of spies and informants infiltrated every tier of society. Together with secret police, dissidents and their known associates were identified, catalogued, and prioritized and systematically exterminated.
Once his rulership had been publicly declared, anyone who dared resist would be charged with sedition and treason. In addition to themselves, their family, close acquaintances, servants, and all with whom they may share sympathy, would have their flesh and blood purified through ritualistic fire with horrific public ceremonies designed to terrify populations into submission.
Entire clans willingly sacrificed themselves rather than betray their faith and face the consequences of infidelity in the afterworld. Most, however, could not bear the thought of sacrificing their ancient culture, language, and art. The love of family and the immortality of legacy was a weakness common amongst the bravest of leaders. To the altruistic and benevolent, the lives of the those they swore to protect meant more to them than their own. So, one-by-one, leaders capitulated to the self-proclaimed emperor and watch as their populations were cleansed of infidels. Only the truly devout would be allowed to live and to serve. And it was this supreme devotion to duty, service, and forfeiture, that made the one part of the body, and it was the unflinching will of the whole that nourished the body with an unquenchable thirst for conquest and the ambition to create a singular empire.
In contrast to traditional conquerors, those who subjected themselves to their foreign rulers were handsomely rewarded. Their supreme leader assumed the responsibility as the spiritual teacher and guardian of souls. A failure to root out heresy put the immortal soul of all subjects at risk. Therefore, there could be no room for error and no tolerance for imperfection. For the Creator required worship to grow powerful, and non-believers sapped strength from the Creator. Only by a lack of worship and faith could the Creator be weakened and defeated. Those found guilty of blaspheme must be eliminated. It was the singular paradigm of everlasting power. The blueprint for law and order that reached from the highest height of the Creator down to the lowest of the primitive earth dwellers. The law was stated clearly and punishment carried out severely. Order was maintained through terror. Those who defied the will of the Creator would be punished not just in this world, but in the next.
While there was much work to be done in the North and East, Mystacin would delegate these lands to his the Perfects while Mystacin himself would travel west towards the mountain cities scattered up and down the eastern slopes of the continental barrier. Here, he would be welcomed as the uncontested ruler by loyal subjects with a display of unmitigated rapture. This he knew to be true as word had reached the conspirators in the preceding months that the familiars — enslaved races — had excavated an ancient city deep within the labyrinth of underground caverns of the great barrier. It was vital for the emperor to personally oversee the excavation for deep within the chasms of the earth’s crust lie the key that unlocked the mysteries of antiquity. And he who holds the key to the past in one hand holds the key to the future in the other.
If it could be proven that an ancient civilization thrived thousands of years ago, it would allow the Pteron race to justify their dominion of all lands west of the great barrier. Their claim, based on divine prophecy of Eminent Domain, justified the seizure of all lands. More importantly, it entitled them to enslave those who unlawfully occupied their rightful territory. Races that could not be assimilated or enslaved would be cleansed.
Once on the verge of extinction, the dwindling race of the mighty Pterons cross-bred with their smaller warm-blooded cousins, ensuring the survival of their species. The result was a new hybrid race, larger and more powerful than any believed to exist since the collapse of their ancient civilization. Long ago, their mighty dynasty dominated the planet for a thousand of years. A dynasty whose history had largely been forgotten. Their artifacts burred underneath the sands of the dessert and hidden in the depths of undiscovered caverns. Now, a new dynasty was destined to rise up from the ashes of a lost world and reclaim its former glory.
Subsisting primarily on fruit and insects, the survivors of a century-long plague developed immunity through the mixture of familiar blood, the blood of races considered inferior and monstrous. These barbarian cousins, denounced as bastard kin, had long since turned to the consumption of flesh and blood for nourishment — a cannibalistic practice adopted only by those who lacked the necessary intelligence and resourcefulness to survive. But with it came a sorcery of the mind that could be used to immobilize their prey. In time, the blood of their enemies became a symbol of superiority and created a thirst for power that could not be sated. Ruthlessness became their greatest strength.
The new hybrid race, naturally immune to the once deadly virus, discovered that by transmitting the pestilence to their victims, they could turn their prey into slaves en masse. Once a scourge upon their kind, the microcosmic organism that had nearly destroyed them had transformed into their greatest asset. In its original form, the virus killed every warm-blooded creature that it infected. However, with time, the virus incubated for hundreds of generations, evolving into a weaker more easily transmittable strain which allowed its victims to survive in a state of mutation. Pteron ancestors now wielded an invincible biological weapon. Enemy species, once infected through the exchange of blood, were imbued with Pterons traits, thus easily assimilated, controlled, or destroyed. They become slave races, or, familiars.
Once a small clan on the verge of extinction, their numbers grew exponentially as natural predators were systematically enslaved or eliminated. As their armies multiplied, so too did the suffering of masses upon whom they preyed. And as is often the case, suffering breeds faith, even if it is the faith of the enslavers. And logically, must it not be true that those who demonstrated militarily superiority must serve a superior deity? Was their invincibility not proof of the existence of the Creator whom they worshipped? Why would an omnipotent being provide his worshipers with a power if it was not meant to be used?
Such questions are often prefer simplistic answers. Everything was created to serve a specific natural function. Things were as they were meant to be. What once was will be again. Their Creator was superior; therefore, they were superior. And if theirs was the superior god, then their prophecy was destined to be fulfilled. And who would be so foolish to stand in opposition to destiny?
However, this marriage of blood did not come without cost. A genetic weakness inherent to their Pteran cousins — a sensitivity to sunlight — was exacerbated within the thin genetic profile that remained once their population fell below a few hundred organisms. Inbreeding — previously considered to be abhorrent — became a necessity for survival, and therefore, acceptable. As their numbers recovered and their population flourished, the existing genetic traits — both the desirable and undesirable — were magnified. What had previously been a mild sensitivity to daylight in a nocturnal breed — intensified. Once, little more than a bothersome vulnerability, now became a fatal weakness.
The new superior race of Pterons could not survive in the light of day. And as they struggled to adapt, they faced a new existential threat. Yet again, their population teetered on the brink of extinction. Trapped in an unforgiving environment with few natural resources, they began sending out martyrs to travel great distances in the hope of discovering new and compatible habitats. Miraculously, by the grace of their Creator, a small band of mercenaries reached the Great Barrier and discovered a vast ecosystem in which they could prosper and multiply for millennia. Once again, the mighty race thwarted annihilation.
They had found their new homeland. Gifted to them by the Creator. It was theirs by divine right. It was strategically located, naturally fortified, and blessed with an abundance of water and a wide spectrum of biological resources, both botanical, and carnal. As is usually the case, superior ability breeds superior ambition. Soon, their revealed a seven-fold strategy, refined to successfully conquer entire populations.
- Restrain their bodies.
- Expose their pain.
- Dissolve their spirit.
- Nullify their will.
- Weaken their defenses.
- Penetrate their thoughts.
- Invade their minds.
The Pteran army spread across the territories east of the great barrier with virtually no resistance. Thriving cultures with whom western civilization had interacted for millennia fell into total darkness, silenced, and never to be heard from again. It was the dawn of an epoch known to the west as the Great Quiet.
With the East under his rule, Mystacin eventually set his sights west of the Great Barrier. First, he would solidify his power by demonstrating his unchallenged authority over the mountainous region. Then, preparations would begin for a systematic campaign that would bring the western regions to their knees. With a tactical mind and armies of warriors under his command, his reign would be unstoppable. His rule, epic. Once again, as was long ago, Pterans would dominate the planet for the next thousand years to come.
First things first, however. There was the law after all. Rules must be obeyed, even by dictators and despots. Order must be established. Discipline must be maintained. Mystacin would not be ruler for long if he did not adhere to the ancient traditions. His first act as supreme ruler — hunt down and kill all remaining members of his immediate family, starting with his nine brothers and their offspring. Once completed he would set his sites to the civilizations that lay west of the continental divide. The great cities and the untold wealth of the Avian-Human empire. His mantra, charismatically delivered to his disciples deep within his underground lair:
We are coming.
We are coming.