The throne of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV rose at the heart of the Imperial Palace on Kaitain, carved from obsidian and gold, guarded by black stone columns brought from Salusa Secundus. Around him, the fountains murmured with a forced calm, while the air smelled of spice and steel.
The Emperor sat alone, staring at a projection suspended before him: jumbled images, intercepted reports, recordings from distant orbits. All pointed to the same thing: a Harkonnen unit had been annihilated on Arrakis. By Fremen.
But not by just any Fremen.
The name that had begun to circulate in whispers troubled him deeply.
Muad'Dib.
He clenched his fists, the imperial ring creaking between his fingers.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed in the room. An imperial eunuch announced:
"Your Grace, the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam."
Shaddam nodded without turning his head. The old woman entered with a serene gait, her eyes clouded with Bene Gesserit wisdom.
"You know why you are here," the Emperor said coldly.
"I know you are troubled, Your Majesty," she replied, without bowing.
"Paul Atreides is alive! And he has united the Fremen! And not only that, he has routed a Harkonnen garrison like scum!"
Mohiam narrowed his eyes.
"That shouldn't be possible..."
"And yet it has happened! What else did you hide from me?"
The Reverend Mother was silent for a moment. Then she walked toward the projection. She peered at the images of Paul leading the Fremen, brandishing a crysknife.
"Jessica went too far. And Paul has flourished in a field we couldn't have foreseen."
Shaddam stood up.
"This is not all that troubles me."
He walked to a hidden panel. When he activated it, a second projection emerged: an ancient portrait, not a recording, but a sealed archive. It was the face of a tall young man, with noble features, a penetrating gaze, and a serious expression. Dark hair, deep-set eyes. A face the Emperor had not forgotten.
Kael Atreides.
"He was the first," he said quietly. "Leto's firstborn. The one who was to marry my daughter, Irulan. The one who was… banished."
Mohiam didn't answer. He knew that name was forbidden.
Flashback
Kaitain. Years ago.
The Emperor walked with Mohiam through the crystal garden. A deal had been sealed: Irulan Corrino, his daughter, would be given to House Atreides. But not to Paul. To Kael.
"He is strong, charismatic, brilliant. The people would follow him," Mohiam said.
"That is precisely why he terrifies me!" Shaddam snarled. "If he joins my blood, his lineage will take the throne."
"Then you must choose: allow him to flourish... or bury him."
And so, the lie was born.
"You decided that Jessica should have a second child... but the first must disappear. The Bene Gesserit were ordered to create an excuse: genetic instability, spiritual imbalance. It was you who allowed Kael to be exiled to the edge of the universe!"
End of flashback.
Shaddam looked at Kael's image. "Missing... but never confirmed dead."
Mohiam spoke cautiously.
"We've kept watch. There's no sign."
"Just as there was no sign of Paul. And now, the desert sings his name."
The Emperor turned.
"And if Kael lives too? If he returns... if they both return! Two Atreides sons. One is already a prophet. And the other?!"
Mohiam, for the first time in decades, had no answer.
Shaddam sank back onto the throne.
"This is the beginning of the end. And all because of fear..."
As the room fell silent, the Kaitain wind battered the windows with unusual force, as if the universe itself were preparing for a reckoning.
At the edges of the Empire, two storms brewed: one among the dunes... and another in a ring lost in the void.
And the Emperor, for the first time, felt mortally alone.