The man sat slumped over the bed, his breathing steady, deep, and peaceful. The child who occupied the bed was pale, their eyes fluttering under the lids, the breath that once was steady slowly deteriorated. The man did not notice in his deep sleep; neither did the room. The toys scattered on the floor did not know or care that the one who cared for them, played with them, and loved them suffered.

The floor itself was stained around the bed with blood and other substances. The only thing keeping away the stench was the numerous candles, incense burners, and the breeze from the moonless night sky. Over the next few minutes, the child's breathing became hoarse and rattled wetly. Time was swept away. The ragged breath grew in volume before a cough shook the child and the bed.

The man groggily came out of sleep, looking around in a confused panic as the fog of sleep abated. His pale blue eyes blinked slowly, the light of the candles reflected slightly from his unkempt and graying blonde hair. He stroked the child's face, the last whispers of sleep left his mind. He touched the amulet hanging from his neck lightly three times, it glowed blue for a moment and then went back to its typical silver sheen.

An unknown time later, the door to the room opened, in rushed three figures, and the first carried a tray full of instruments and various opaque jars. The second came in stepping around the one holding the tray, and they both went to the child, their gender and race unclear due to the clothing they wore. Lastly came a well-dressed man who walked over to his lord.

He sidestepped them both as they worked on the child. "My lord, they have passed," the man whispered into the ear of his once again lord and master. The man who sat beside the bed gripped the sheets tightly, "Did they……?" Before he was able to finish the thought, the sharply dressed man responded, "No, my lord."

Grimly satisfied with his answer, he turned to the last remaining member of his family, his granddaughter. Her emaciated frame, lack of hair, and pale skin stood in stark contrast to the lively little girl he knew just a month ago. He lovingly gripped her hand, stroking it while his eyes looked upon her face. The doctor examined her wordlessly, checking her vitals, and drawing blood. Placing it into three different vials before pouring some into the opaque containers his assistant carried. They sealed them again and stepped out of the room, leaving the emperor and his page alone.

"How many?" The emperor asked as his granddaughter's breath slowed her eyes, only twitching slightly. "Thousands each day, with hundreds a night. We have been looking for a cure or treatment." The page stood next to the emperor while turning his gaze to the bed, pain, and grief evident as he looked at the girl he considered part of his family.

"Have they found anything yet?" He asked the tears coming from his eyes, which shone in the diminishing candlelight. "No cure as of yet sire, they did find texts speaking of a similar plague long ago on the shattered continent." The page walked to the windows opening them further to let more fresh air into the room, hoping that it would help.

Even with the chilly night air touching her fevered skin, the girl did not react. The emperor leaned over and kissed her forehead, standing finally after hours sitting and sleeping at her bedside. "Was anything ever found?" He whispered under his breath while walking to the window, just loud enough for the page to hear. The page looked downtrodden and could not meet his gaze, "No, my lord, no cure was ever found." He grimaced and fought to say the words that caused him pain. "The only prescribed treatment for this 'Gloom' was a merciful death. All cases mentioned in the text and so far in your Dominion perish."

The emperor braced himself now unsteady on his feet, "Merciful death? What is the prescribed method of death? Smothering!?! A sword?!?! Poison?!?! FIRE!?!" He shouted at his page, his limbs shaking, tears streaming from his eyes. "Tell me, Merka! How would you have me kill my granddaughter!" He gripped Merka's arms hard before locking eyes with him.

The emperor's eyes glowed electric blue, his hair stood on end Merka could feel the Aether building in his liege. "A medicine to put her further into sleep and to alleviate the pain" came the whispered response. Abruptly Merka was shoved to the side and fell to the floor, he watched as his Emperor rage and ruin the room. Ripping toys apart smashing objects and screaming fruitlessly.

"Papa?" The word stopped him cold, his entire body turned to meet his granddaughter; her eyes half-opened and unfocused. With his rage subsiding quickly, he walked over to her side, and stroked her face once again "What is it, Lily?" He said all traces of anger and pain left his face, fresh tears poured forth from his eyes. "Will I be able to see mom and dad soon? I miss them." Her voice was barely a whisper, and her dark red eyes looked so tired. "You will see them soon sweetie I promise," He said while sitting back in the chair by her side.ad

"Are you hurting? Thirsty? Hungry?" He asked while gently lifting the pitcher of water on the bedside table, ready to pour a glass if need be. "Yes," she said meekly, the discomfort evident on her face. He paled, "You are hurting?" he asked again to be sure. She nodded tears pooling, "It hurts papa. It hurts a lot," the tears flowed from her eyes.

Merka looked at his liege, his expression changing rapidly from pain, indecision, and then finally resolution. Merka understood immediately what the small nod he received meant, he gracefully picked himself up and walked out of the bedroom. The door shut quietly behind him, they were alone again.

The emperor poured a small glass of water and pressed it to Lily's lips. She opened them slightly to drink slowly. Over the next few minutes, she finished the glass. As the glass was put down, a knock came from the door, "You may enter," the emperor said after a few moments to collect his breath and steady himself.

Merka entered, holding what appeared to be a small dish of soup. "Here it is, my lord, it should make her feel better." Merka stepped back after passing the bowl, his eyes and cheeks were red from tears. The emperor nodded, "Thank you." he said while dismissing Merka. The man was practically family, but he did not want him to see this to spare him even the smallest amount of pain.

"Lily, I have soup for you; it is just a small amount, but it should make you feel better." The emperor stirred the soup. It smelled delicious though he did notice it was just the broth. He put a spoonful to her mouth, and she took it, bit by bit the soup emptied. Lily felt the pain going away as she drank the soup, which caused her to drink it faster. Soon it was gone, and he put the bowl on the table, "Do you feel better?" He asked, stroking her face, her eyes fluttered as she fought the sleep that was fast encroaching.

"Yes, papa, I am going……going………to sleep now," She said while her words slurred slightly, her eyes closed again, and her breathing steadied. He waited, and over what felt like hours, he watched her chest rise and fall, the time in between breaths lengthening. He expected it to hurt, seeing her like this, knowing what he had just done. He thought the pain would greet him like an old friend, but instead, what relief washed over him.

Finally, he saw Lily breathe in and then out for the final time. He waited, praying for her chest to rise once more, it did not. The Emperor leaned over and kissed her forehead before tucking her in for the last time. He went to stand, but collapsed and realized he had been holding his breath. Emperor gasped, causing him to hyperventilate to fill his lungs. With his lungs now full, he screamed out in pain. The despair poured from him into his sobs, the tears flowing freely from him. He fought to catch each breath.

It crushed him, he curled inward holding himself, he did not know the guards outside had been instructed to leave, but he did not care if they heard him. He screamed into the dead room, deafening him to the chorus of heartbreak echoing from the city below. After an eternity of torture, he was able to collect himself, and he stood shaking, bracing himself on the bed frame. He looked out the window to his city, his Dominion, he knew he wasn't alone with grief tonight, but it did not matter. "I may not be able to change this, but I know who may," He said to himself quietly he looked out the window, he saw his reflection in the glass.

He looked gaunt, haggard, wounded, and his eyes shone with determination. For the briefest moment, he was truly alone. Then within the span of a few heartbeats, he saw them. The eyes that plagued all who sat on the throne, they opened slowly beside him. Within their infernal gaze, he saw both damnation and salvation, either one would serve his purpose. With a new resolve, he looked to his granddaughter one last time. He strode to the door and quietly opened it. He went into the hallway shutting the door, leaving the past behind him.