Day 10,445

Death is peace and inevitable, including a harsh price to pay just to stay high and above the others.

He was rolling, and then stumbling among prickly thorns and uneven rocks. With a thud on his head, he cursed at the stinging sensation ringing between his skull. Haoran pushed the specks of dust away from his face, slowly cracking his left eye open. Meeting with the sight of bulging red eyes before him, he pushed himself away, crawling on all fours to shy away from the transparent soul before him. It swirled forward, sticking out its ugly forked tongue as if demanding a tango dance from the boy. Long arms reached out, pulling Haoran by his legs the second he stood up to run. Soft cackles echoed in the cave, ridiculing the latter for his stinking scent of fear that coursed through the air. Those waves of laughter did not cease. It grew louder, mimicking the sound of hooting owls and screaming banshees, joined by two bulging red eyes falling onto Haoran's open palms.

Haoran swatted his hands, tossing the red rotten eyes away only to have them bounced onto his face as if trying to lick the blood away from his face. Cold arms remained on his ankles, dragging him towards the dark entry, not showing mercy for his head that kept crashing against sharp rocks. Mutters and chants reverberated against his ears, digging through the fire and roaring within the cage of his heart. Something in him felt challenged and detested. Clenching his palms tightly, he pulled out the dagger tucked at the side of his boots, thrusting it forward to the transparent soul. It hissed and exploded into pieces of light blue flames, lighting the place up brightly. Slow teasing claps emerged.

"Your days spent leading the war have proved fruitful," the hoarse voice spoke, walking towards Haoran's tired figure. "It took me almost one hundred years to destroy her since she did nothing wrong as a living. She was just desperate, desperate for her child to return the love she had allocated for her daughter. It's a sad story, yet it took you just mere seconds to burn her poor demonic soul away. You didn't even care to ask."

He stared right into the dark eyes that mirrored his. Not just his eyes, but every inch of his figure felt surreal to him even though this is their second encounter. First was when he managed to fish him out of the pool covered in blood. Sucking in the thick air around them, Haoran rolled his eyes.

"She had a forked tongue. It meant she lies, somewhere in between her life," Haoran answered, pushing himself up to stand as he brushed his hair backwards. "Not everyone is perfect, including me. But, what did I do wrong? What did I do wrong that my mother was murdered?! And, what did I do wrong that I have to suffer?! Why am I wrong when I tear down the world that ruined mine? Nobody asked me why, so why- why must I ask?"

The figure smiled, bearing his white teeth that overshone his pale skin. He trailed his fingers against Haoran's cheeks gently cupping them.

"You don't have to, and take my offer," he smiled, eyes gleaming in a periwinkle note. "Take my place. Practice my magic and all I ask is for you to sit on the throne I am freely offering you. Release me from my misery. And, I promise, I will release you from yours. Forever. Without any strings or consequences. You can have a life where all-knowing souls, demons, and ghouls bow to your feet."

"And, my father? Can I return to him still?" Haoran asked bravely, clutching tight onto the dagger.

"You can return to our father. You can roam anywhere and everywhere for all eternity. All you have to do is bind yourself to the skeletal throne sincerely," the figure stepped away, revealing a blood-red throne covered in skeletons of different sizes and two demons guarding it. "Take it to release me and yourself, Pang Haoran. Give yourself a new name, a new identity, and a new era."

Haoran dragged his lifeless body forward. The memory of his mother and him running across the palace halls in front of the golden throne flashed across his sight, including her soft voice like a nightingale tickling his mind. "This throne will forever be yours my little clementine, and all the throne I can offer to you in the world."

Day 23,395 

Soft string music travelled across the halls, accompanying the majestic figure on the throne. As his palms reached out to put away the completed scroll, his attention was drawn away from the next parchment letter tied neatly in two strands of golden hair. Waves of giggles and squeals burst through the doors with two maidens chasing after them. Their voices were low yet stern, warning the children to behave as they set foot into the royal study.

"Appa! Appa!"

Lifting his palms in the air, the figure stood up tall, allowing the silky black robe to fall smoothly behind him leaving no creases on it. Rare golden embroideries made of spirit's teardrops shimmered against the dark halls when a streak of moonlight set itself above, signalling that it was near midnight. The music stopped, musicians left the halls, and the maidens retreated, leaving the family to be alone. As silence embraced the halls and the door snapped shut, the figure scooped his identical twins up in his arms with a wide smile.

"Yes, my little snowball and tiger lily," he smiled setting down on the throne with his children next to him. "What stories did you hear again today that piqued your curiosity? What do my rabbits want to know?"

Francessa lifted her palms to gain her father's attention. "Scholar Rykeas mentioned that this throne once belonged to someone else not blood-related. Our scrolls wrote that thrones can only be inherited by their kids or anyone with a common lineage. How did you come to have the throne?"

Francis nodded, agreeing with his younger twin as he picked on the embroideries, studying the patterns before accidentally falling forward into his father's arms. "Appa, are you adopted by the family who once had the throne?"

"Francis!" the elder gasped, holding onto his chest, feeling betrayed by his son, and only when the boy pouted, his gaze softened. "Appa wasn't adopted. Appa did someone a favour with a vow that this throne would be guarded impartially even though~"

The door busted open, revealing a limp figure in between two horse-faced demons. "Your Imperial Highness, Sire Fergus of the Seventh Voracious Demonic Dimension," they bowed, looking at the kids. "Prince Francis, Princess Francessca."

Fergus grinned, eyes gleaming in light purple as he stopped the demons.

"Run along, my dear rabbits. Appa has some important errand to run."

When the twins disappeared from their sight, Fergus transported himself before the prisoner tilting his head to the side.

"Sixty years ago, I left you alive because you didn't set your bloody hands on my family, but~"

"Haoran," he croaked hoisting his heavy head. "I didn't know they were your kids. Please forgive me for considering our~"

"No," he growled, gripping Ailun's chin tightly, fingernails scarring the mortal skin, and gestured for his subordinate to set the wizard at the opposite side of the room. 

Fergus rubbed his palms together as he set eyes on the silhouette behind the curtains.

"This is going to be a long, long night." 

Wordcount: 1270 words