Lord ruler's son

The palace was dark and silent, save for the gyoles parading about, their grim faces sniffing the air, searching for an unusual scent. But there was no strange odor, only the faint smell of ash falling from the dark clouds above.

Gyoles were supernatural beings formed from various elements: stone, wood, water, even air. Their heads housed satchels infused with energy and commands—those were the only things that gave them purpose. Energy and orders.

Created by the Lord Ruler to serve his purposes, the gyoles had minds that could not think for themselves. They merely carried out the orders of their master. Most were used for security, while others had more sinister duties.

General Lawson ground his boots into the dark-gray ash that stained the floor.

“What in the name of the Great Spirit are the palace maids doing? Why haven’t they swept the ashes away yet?” He muttered as he climbed the stone staircase. It led to the Lord’s chamber, or rather, to the Lord Ruler’s shrine—no one knew exactly where he resided. All they knew was that his presence was everywhere.

Even his son, Cian, had no idea where his father lived.

"Careful, General, and speak no more of the 'so-called Great Spirit.' Lest you incur the wrath of the Lord Ruler," warned the stonegyole guarding the entrance, its voice deep and controlled.

General Lawson nodded at the advice. He quickly removed the bracelet from his wrist and handed it over. The gyole checked it for the dark energy signature before allowing him inside.

Upon entering, a wave of cold air hit his face, sending a shiver down his spine. A suffocating power, far greater than his own, pressed against his head, like an invisible hand tightening around his throat. His eyes bulged as the pressure on his mouth and nose forced the air from his lungs.

The Lord Ruler was angry—he was certain of it.

"How dare you?" A voice, both shrill and deep, thundered inside his head. He recognized it instantly as the Lord Ruler’s voice, the usual method of communication.

"Spare me, my Lord! Spare me! I am foolish and daft!" Lawson’s words came in rapid, panicked bursts as the pain intensified.

A massive force threw him to the floor, slamming him into a wall made of ancient iron. His eyes turned black, his fangs elongated, and his nails grew, but he knew better than to make a move. The last thing he wanted was to anger the Lord Ruler further.

"Do not speak of any other spirit, for I am the Great Spirit!" The voice boomed in his mind, sending waves of terror through his body. His legs trembled, his head pounding as his vision flickered between black and red. Black blood dripped from his nose, and his body ached with invisible cuts and bruises.

"What have you come for?" The voice softened, but it still carried an edge of menace.

Lawson tried to speak, but only incoherent sounds escaped his throat. His right ear was buzzing, and the bridge of his nose was crooked.

“The... vampires...” he squeaked, slumping against the wall, the room darkening around him.

"You will speak to my son from now on."

The voice faded to a whisper, and Lawson blacked out.

---

When General Lawson woke, the ashes had stopped falling. The cold had lifted slightly, and the darkness had receded. His head no longer ached, and the cuts and bruises had healed.

The Lord Ruler’s words echoed in his mind.

"You’ll speak to my son from now on."

Cian, his son.

Communicating with Cian was a challenge. The young Lord was far more difficult to converse with than a swampyth—he would only respond with silence, or occasionally a sentence, sometimes just a phrase. It was maddening, but that was the nature of the Lord Ruler’s son.

Lawson stood, brushing ash from his robe. The pink and purple hues of dawn were already beginning to streak the sky.

The room he was in was vast and eerie, even in the light of day. The constant cold made it feel as though the place was made of ice, and there was nothing here but barren space and unsettling silence.

He adjusted his boots, grabbed his staff, and made his way outside. The presence of the Lord Ruler had diminished significantly. It was clear that his power no longer pervaded every inch of this place.

---

The road to Lord Cian’s mansion was clean, devoid of ashes. The palace slaves had done their job well. General Lawson nodded to himself, satisfied with the neatness of the path. He would have preferred to bring his luxurious carriage, but the road wasn’t wide enough to allow it. So, he continued on foot, his mind spinning with how best to relay the message to Lord Cian.

Part of him longed to return home to the warmth of breakfast, to bury himself in the comfort of a soft bed. But that could wait—he had a duty to perform.

As he approached the grey stone castle, an unease settled in his chest. There was something unsettling about the unnatural silence that hung in the air. The mansion was beautiful, yes, with its rows of glistening bicicus and creeping ivy, but it had an eerie quality, a quiet that felt wrong.

The morning light had shifted from pink to orange as he neared the massive gates. Tall trees with long, menacing tendrils towered over the path, their branches appearing almost alive.

General Lawson shook his head, trying to dispel the eerie thoughts. He could never live in a place like this—too cold, too strange. The petals floating in the morning air added to the unnerving atmosphere.

Speeding up, he reached the doors where three stonegyoles stood guard. These were different from the ones in the Lord Ruler’s mansion—more intimidating, their eyes small and nearly invisible unless you looked closely. Three twigs sprouted from their foreheads, and their mouths were enormous, with long black tongues that slithered in and out.

These gyoles were rarer, requiring far more dark energy to create. Their rough, twisted skin and the bulging satchels at their necks marked them as intelligent and dangerous.

As Lawson approached, the leader of the three stepped forward, a sinister glint in its eyes. The air was thick with the smell of death and chaos—the remnants of a recently consumed soul.

General Lawson wrinkled his nose at the stench but refused to show fear. He was a demon of higher rank himself.

"Who might you be?" the leader asked, smoke curling from its mouth.

"I’m General Lawson, the security affairs officer. Inform your master of my arrival," he replied, staring directly into the gyole's blood-red eyes, making sure to show no fear.

The leader cocked its head and exchanged a series of guttural sounds with the other two. After a moment, it turned back to Lawson and spoke in a low growl.

"Master says you may enter."

With a silent nod, Lawson stepped forward, entering the gates. The power swirling around him was oppressive, like a tornado of dark energy.

Lord Cian’s mansion had been built with care, but the atmosphere within was suffocating.

Inside, a cloaked figure stood by the window, its back straight, long black hair cascading down to its shoulders. The figure didn’t turn, and the air felt heavy, like a storm about to break.

Lawson knew the presence instantly. Lord Cian. Even without turning, he could feel the young Lord searching his mind, plucking through his thoughts without permission. He could feel the weight of Cian’s presence, even without a word spoken.

"Lord?" General Lawson spoke, though his voice was a mere whisper.

Silence.

Cian did not turn or speak. The silence stretched, the pressure in the room building until it was unbearable.

Then, suddenly, a voice—deep, cultured, and icy—spoke in Lawson’s mind, startling him.

"Tell me what you came for, General."

Lawson blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. The silence st

retched longer, and he realized that this was only the beginning of the impossible task that lay ahead.