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The Horned King

H e sat at his round table in the dark, watching the flame over the singular red candle flick and writhe. A storm raged outside the glass wall, thunder shaking the old castle while the waves crashed against the rocks, reshaping them over eons to make them sharper and more jagged. The island remained an unwelcome place. He never turned his head to watch the lightning. His eyes stayed fixed on the candle, waiting.

The Gold Mask arrived at last. Its entrance into the room was silent, but its presence, Aries felt. The horned king watched as his loyal Gold Mask placed the chalice on the table before him.

“How is she?”

“Ever since her dragon died, not good.” The Gold Mask’s tone was low and grave. “Perhaps you should choose a different Source for a while.”

“No,” Aries growled. “I need her visions. They’re the only ones I trust.”

“As you command, Sire. Though, I must tell you, the daily siphons are becoming unsustainable. If you wish to keep using her, you must give her more time to recover in between.”

The horned king drew in a long breath. “I do not recall asking for your counsel.”

The Gold Mask bowed low and left.

Aries stared at the chalice. At the thick, red liquid inside it. A precious source he was running out of. Without it, he would be in the dark once more.

He hadn’t felt this out of control since before the Drop.

This realm was following in the last one’s footsteps. But that wasn’t the part he feared. This time, he was counting on that. He keenly awaited the apocalypse, for the end of this split-in-half world meant the rise of a new one. He knew it was looming but could never see how it would happen.

The only thing he was sure of was that they would be the ones to ring it in. The Darkbringer and his Morningstar.

The horned king drank greedily from the gem-encrusted chalice, shutting his eyes as the euphoric nectar coursed down his throat. Warm and thick like honey, but not as sweet. More coppery, and slightly bitter. Delectable all the same.

He slouched back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut to see.

Her blood showed him that they were in the city. In the penthouse suite of the Sun & Moon Hotel, no less. He had to scoff to himself. Brazen, they were. He saw glimpses of them touching and fighting. What they always did. Entrapped in their mating ritual, spinning and dancing and snapping at each other.

Something was getting in the way, though. His other son was still showing up in the visions. Jedidiah had never been part of the prophecy. Aries had tried to eliminate him, but like a cockroach, the treacherous creature just would not die.

The Darkbringer would finish him, Aries was sure of that. Each time her blood showed his sons together, they battled. One of these times, the brute would be put down for good, and the scorpion and the serpent would carry out their destiny of ruin.

The vision of the three of them faded. He tried to slurp up any remaining droplets, desperate for more, but the nectar was finished. The empty chalice mocked him. He growled wordlessly, turning his head to glare at the stormy sea. Her blood was getting less and less potent. Each time, the visions were more fleeting.

But the horned king trusted the prophecy. He had seen it a hundred years ago. The timelines might switch and change, and he didn’t hope to predict them, but the core truth remained. The Darkbringer and the Morningstar had come together—that was a fact. It was only a matter of time until their union solidified, and the realm would fall into darkness and fire.

He had done everything to secure it. Humanity marched forward, faithful to the destruction. Celestials remained oblivious, intoxicated with their own reflections. His rogue daughter’s faction of degenerate vampires did worry him from time to time, but in the face of what was to come, her efforts would be moot.

All would fall.

And his new world would finally rise.