"The time is now.." came the whispered words into the old Emperor's ears. The whispers which came so often, the whispers that haunted him, the whispers that soothed him, the whispers that completely and totally ruled him. "We are strong enough now... Send our forces to the far land.. take it. Claim it as yours."
The words were melodious and gentle. They were merciless and cruel. They marched over the shattered walls that had one been his morals and convictions. They circled and surrounded his mind and forced him to surrender. Somewhere, somewhere deep in the prison that the whispers had created for him he said 'No.' But the only words the leaked from his lips were, "Yes.. of course." A weak crackling voice from the once able-bodied and proud man. Now a shadow of his former self, Azyra, ruler of the known world sat slumped in his archaic stone throne. His advisor, his master, hunched over him, whispering suggestions that were commands disguised as soft opinions.
Like its master the throne room had fallen since its once great state. Many years before his most trusted advisor and torturer had come to him, this had been a place that many rulers and chiefs would travel to see. Now it was a dark foreboding hall that even rays of sunlight feared to come. His former prized jewel had become a rotting prison, much like his own heart.
"Then I shall inform the council of your decision." The raven haired man spoke, rising to his full height. The man paced around the throne, his dark condescending eyes practically bursting in joy as they weighed down on the Emperor. Azyra lowered his weak gaze, he did not want to be looked at, he wanted none to see his shame. "Azyra." The word felt like a spear thrust into his chest. "The most High King of all the civilized world commands that armed forces and settlers be sent to the far land." The man took a few steps back from the throne. "You don't like that? Do you?" A haunting laugh reigned over the hall for a few moments. So much pride, so much malice. Azyra managed to look up at the other man. He seemed young, and charming, long black locks fell to his shoulders. Arrogance was on his face as if someone had painted it there. And those eyes.. those fierce, dark eyes. The whispers were bad enough, but even in his slumber Azyra could not escape the persecution of those eyes. The Emperor dropped his gaze.
The black clad advisor laughed again, stabbing another spear into the core of the 'ruler' of the Known World. The man whirled on his heels and made his way to the great double doors at the other end of the hall. He was left alone with only the haunting image of those dark portholes of evil to pierce his soul. One wrinkled hand weakly came to his face, where he wiped the tears that had silently fallen from his reddened eyes. A time of great suffering was about to come. And he had just ordered it.
A/N: This is the first revision of chapter 1. Got rid of some grammatical errors and what not. I added a little bit and got rid of the recitation from the advisor as it seemed so many didn't like that little speech. So tell me what you think and if you see any mistakes let me know! Thanks!