The throne hall of the Shadow Empire had never known silence.It was a place where screams echoed, where blood stained ancient marble floors, where mercy had long been forgotten.
Tonight was no different.Torches burned along towering black pillars, their flames dancing wildly as though afraid of the man seated upon the throne. Nobles, warriors, and servants knelt with lowered heads, none daring to breathe too loudly.
At the center of it all sat Lord Diatrus.The Destroyer.
He leaned lazily against his throne carved from obsidian stone, one arm resting against the armrest, fingers tapping slowly as though counting invisible deaths. His long silver hair fell across his face, partially hiding eyes that glowed faintly crimson beneath the dim light.
Power rolled off him like a living storm.Cold, Merciless and Ancient.
Chains rattled suddenly.The massive doors of the hall opened.
Four guards dragged a young woman forward.She stumbled, barefoot against the cold floor, wrists bound by iron chains glowing faintly with suppression runes. Dirt smudged her skin, and her breathing was uneven, yet she did not cry or beg like others brought before him.
A murmur spread across the court.
They knew who she was.
After years of searching…The prophetic being had finally been found.
The guards forced her onto her knees.Her head remained lowered.
Silence fell heavier than before.
Diatrus did not move immediately. He simply watched her, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
"So," his deep voice finally echoed, smooth yet terrifying, "this fragile thing is the prophecy meant to destroy me?"
No one answered,no one dared.
One trembling minister stepped forward.
"My Lord… She was found in the eastern villages. Every sign matches the shaman's prophecy."
At the mention of the shaman, faint amusement touched Diatrus's lips.
He remembered the old woman clearly—the way she had dared speak fate to his face before her head rolled across sacred ground.
His claws extended slightly, long and deadly.
"How disappointing," he murmured. "I expected something… extraordinary."
The girl slowly lifted her head.And the world seemed to pause.
Her eyes met his.They were not fearful or hateful hateful…rather it was just… calm.
It irritated him instantly.
Everyone feared him.Yet this human girl looked at him as though he were simply another man.
Diatrus rose from his throne.Each step he took echoed heavily across the hall.
Shadows bent toward him as if bowing to their master.The guards released her and retreated quickly.
He stopped before her.Up close, she looked even more ordinary…soft features, trembling shoulders, yet an inexplicable warmth radiated from her presence.
His claws lifted toward her throat.The court held its breath.
Another execution…another life ending.Just like always.
"Any last words?" he asked casually.
Her voice came quietly."I'm not here to destroy you."
A few nobles gasped.
Diatrus's eyes darkened."And yet," he replied softly, "every prophecy claims otherwise."
His claws descended towards her neck to slit it but suddenly stopped midair.
A flicker of confusion crossed his face.His power… did not respond.
The familiar surge of demonic energy that obeyed his will remained silent.
He frowned and tried again but nothing happened.
For the first time in centuries, he felt resistance.Not from an enemy but from himself.
The girl's chains suddenly loosened, metal cracking softly as if weakened by invisible force.
A strange warmth spread through his chest.The roaring demons within him… grew quiet.The hall erupted into whispers.
Diatrus stepped back slowly, staring at his own hand as if it had betrayed him…impossible.
He had slaughtered thousands without hesitation.Why not her?
His gaze snapped back to the girl.She was watching him..not triumphantly, not fearfully but with something dangerously close to concern.
That unsettled him more than any weapon.
"Take her," he ordered sharply.
The guards hesitated.
"My Lord… shall we execute—"
"I said take her!"
His voice thundered, shaking the pillars.The guards rushed forward, grabbing her again.
Diatrus turned away abruptly, cloak swirling behind him as he returned to his throne.No one dared question him.
Not when rage radiated from him like wildfire.But one thought echoed endlessly in his mind.
Why couldn't I kill her?
And for the first time since becoming the Destroyer…Lord Diatrus felt fear.