The grand chamber of the Ogushki Palace was shrouded in silence. High above, banners bearing the imperial crest swayed gently, untouched by the turmoil that had gripped the empire. Seated upon the obsidian throne was Emperor Glimpse Ogushki, his golden eyes surveying his three sons with an intensity that turned the air heavy.

  The Dem Empire was dying.

  The land, once fertile, had grown barren. The cities were overcrowded, food supplies stretched thin, and riots had begun breaking out among the lower districts. Glimpse had summoned his sons to the imperial court, demanding a solution—an answer that would secure the future of the Ogushki bloodline.

  For a full week, the three brothers deliberated, each crafting a path forward. Now, the time had come to present their plans.

  Soren, the eldest, stepped forward first. A seasoned warrior and diplomat, he had always been their father’s pride. His voice was steady as he spoke.

  “We should form an alliance with the Pure Leaf Empire. They have the resources to sustain us, and in return, we can offer control of one of our richest mineral mines. A temporary sacrifice for long-term stability.”

  Murmurs spread among the gathered council.

  Glimpse tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne. “The Pure Leaf Empire is not known for generosity. They would not stop at a single mine.”

  Soren inclined his head. “It is a risk, yes, but one that could be carefully negotiated. The alternative is starvation.”

  Vael, the second son, scoffed. “We are warriors, not beggars.” He took a step forward, his arms crossed. “Why should we kneel before another empire when we have the strength to take what we need? The neighboring nations are weak, scattered. We strike swiftly, seize their lands, and establish dominance. Expansion is the only true solution.”

  The council murmured again, some nodding in approval, others wary.

  Glimpse’s expression remained unreadable. “And what of their allies? The Sunscale Dominion will not sit idly if we take from their trade partners.”

  “Let them come,” Vael said, smirking. “We will show them why the Dem Empire has ruled the stars for centuries.”

  A tense silence followed.

  Then, finally, Tarolaurance spoke.

  Unlike his brothers, he had no warrior’s frame, no commanding presence. He had always been the quiet one—the observer, the thinker. His silver eyes glinted with something unreadable as he stepped forward.

  “I propose a different solution,” he said, his voice calm.

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  All eyes turned to him.

  “If resources are the issue, then we must reduce the number of mouths to feed.”

  Glimpse narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

  Tarolaurance met his father’s gaze without flinching. “A controlled purge. Half the population—eliminated. We keep only those who serve a purpose, those who can contribute to the empire’s survival. The strong remain. The weak are culled.”

  The chamber erupted into chaos. Council members shouted over one another, some in outrage, others in shock. Even Vael, who had always been the most ruthless, took a step back, regarding his younger brother with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

  “You would slaughter our own people?” he spat.

  Tarolaurance didn’t blink. “I would ensure our empire’s survival.”

  Soren clenched his fists. “This is madness.”

  Glimpse raised a hand, and the chamber fell silent. His gaze bore into Tarolaurance, searching for something—perhaps a shred of hesitation. He found none.

  “No son of mine will spill the blood of his own people in such a way,” the emperor declared, his voice cold. “Your proposal is rejected. This discussion is over.”

  Tarolaurance said nothing, but in his eyes, a storm was brewing.

  The meeting ended. Decisions were made. The empire’s fate was set.

  But three days later, everything changed. The discovery came at dawn.

  A group of scholars, combing through the royal archives, stumbled upon something they should not have seen—a hidden chamber, concealed beneath the palace, filled with ancient texts and something far worse.

  Seven bodies.

  Some barely recognizable as human. Their skin twisted, veins pulsing with blackened energy. Their eyes hollow, mouths frozen in silent screams.

  Dark magic. Forbidden research.

  Guards stormed Tarolaurance’s quarters, dragging him from his study. He did not fight back.

  Now, he stood before the court once more, shackled in chains, with the weight of judgment pressing upon him.

  Glimpse’s voice was like ice. “You have defied the laws of this empire, delved into the forbidden, and committed atrocities upon your own kind.”

  Vael’s expression was unreadable, but his hands clenched into fists. Soren looked away, unable to meet his younger brother’s gaze.

  Tarolaurance merely smiled.

  “Atrocities?” he echoed. “Is it truly so different from what this empire has done for centuries? We conquer, we kill, we take. The only difference between me and you, Father, is that I do not pretend to be righteous.”

  Glimpse stood, and for the first time in Tarolaurance’s life, he felt something almost foreign.

  Fear.

  “You are no longer my son,” the emperor declared. “For your crimes, you are exiled. If you are seen within these borders again, you will be executed.”

  The hall was silent.

  Tarolaurance laughed—a low, bitter sound. “You are making a mistake.”

  Glimpse did not respond.

  The guards dragged him away. The gates of Akarith loomed ahead, marking the edge of the empire. A crowd had gathered to watch as Tarolaurance was cast out.

  He stepped forward, crossing the threshold into exile. The sky above was dark with approaching storms.

  But he did not look back.

  This was not the end.

  This was the beginning.

  And ten years from now, the galaxy would know his name.