They called me the Scourge of the Seven Realms. The Black Emperor. The man who'd conquered half the world before his thirtieth birthday.
But that wasn't my real name. Not the one I was born with.
I was born Cain Ashford, son of farmers, nobody special. And I stayed Cain Ashford until the day I realized that being close to me meant death. When the Void Cultists – servants of the very demons I was trying to stop – targeted everyone I loved to break me, I made a choice.
I faked my death. Changed my appearance with blood magic. Took the name Damien Blackthorne and became someone else entirely. Someone cold. Someone without weakness. Someone who loved no one and therefore had no one left to lose.
I told myself it was to protect them. My family. The woman I loved. The friends who'd stood by me. If the world thought Cain Ashford was dead, the cultists would leave them alone and focus their hatred on the Black Emperor instead.
It worked. They survived. They lived peaceful lives while I conquered the world alone, bearing the weight of everyone's hatred so they wouldn't have to bear the weight of my enemies' vengeance.
I never told them the truth. Never let them know that the tyrant they feared and the man they'd mourned were the same person.
It was better that way. Safer.
Now, as I lay dying on the blood-soaked marble of my throne room, I wondered if it had been worth it.
"Any last words, Damien?" High Priestess Celeste stood over me, her blade – my own sword, stolen during the battle – still dripping with my blood. Behind her, the leaders of the rebellion watched with hungry eyes, eager to see the tyrant fall.
Celeste. She'd been one of those I'd abandoned when I became Damien. A childhood friend who'd grown into something more. She'd loved Cain Ashford once, before he "died."
Now she was killing the monster she thought had replaced him, never knowing they were the same person.
The irony was almost funny.
"You won't win," I managed, blood bubbling from my lips. "The demons... they'll come regardless. You've doomed everyone."
"Better the demons than you," she spat.
She didn't understand. None of them did. Everything I'd done – the conquest, the tyranny, the fear – it had all been to unite the world before the invasion. But I'd done it wrong. I'd become Damien Blackthorne, the heartless emperor, when I should have remained Cain Ashford, the man who fought for those he loved.
"So be it," I whispered. "May you live long enough to see your mistake."
Celeste raised the blade for the final strike. "Goodbye, Damien."
I'm sorry, Celeste. I'm sorry I never told you the truth.
The sword fell. Darkness swallowed me.
And then...