Throughout his long, blood-greased ascent, there had not been many souls Alpheo cared to love, nor many he had ever allowed inside the quiet sanctuary of his inner sanctum. There were the few who had stood unyielding at his side since the absolute genesis of everything, and there were those he had ruthlessly dragged along the way, or who had chanced to meet him across the many crimson, corpse-strewn roads that brought him to the high throne where he now sat.
His was not a life devoid of regrets. No man who had waded through a sea of bodies to forge a crown could ever be so monstrously arrogant as to claim that. Yet, alongside the sharp, enduring pain, there had been flashes of profound joy; alongside absolute desperation, a stubborn green shoot of hope had always managed to find purchase.
