Fear. It all began with fear. They had been exposed. A simple mistake and everything seemed at risk. Now their very existence was at risk. Fear consumed their actions. They only wanted what belonged to them. It was something that had been stolen from the heart of one of their own. Those insolent fools took what they could never understand. It remained hidden by the thieves as a trophy alongside their other spoils. If they understood what it was, then they would have treated it with much greater respect, not just as another medal of their king's accomplishments. What they had received was greater power than just another blank on a ruler's resume. But how would they know? The fear they felt was uncanny and hidden. But it was there.

He did not want to spill further blood, but those thieves would not return what was his; what was theirs. He had made them who they were; supported them in their campaigns. Now they objected his rule. Why? Because they had one victory guided by pure luck? Those ignorant fools had no idea what was in their hands. He knew though, and he wanted it back. The mistake that led to his loss of it was guided by peer arrogance. The example made of Erus was warmly welcomed by the others. It went too far though, thieves taking what didn't belong to them; displaying it as a trophy of a very improbable victory. He had asked for it returned to him. He even asked nicely; not begging, but warning of what was to come. Those thieves didn't comply. They brought this upon themselves.

Orange waves danced angrily upon freshly carved ruins. They spread, depriving the city of its life. It was the quickest way. These citizens had their chance to submit to his will. They ignored it. They ignorantly believed their king had greater control of their will than they did. Their king had decided suicide for the entire city; it was a fate inescapable for most. Their deaths were fitting. Their decisions were made as one, shared by one over-mind; so too was their death a shared experience. The burning would not end, not until he had received what he demanded. Dancing flames pulled away oxygen selfishly, refusing to save even a little for those inside their grasp. It was a typical gesture, hands on the throat, to indicate either death by choking or suffocation. Why couldn't they just give him what he wanted? He didn't actually enjoy the screams or their slow suffocating deaths. His conscious was much intact still; he continually offered them salvation. Still, others feared treason. They feared his compassion.

There was only one place of salvation. Ironically it was the place that the decision had been made. The decision that led to the destruction of the city. It was a tall multi-story building, supported by Corinthian pillars; fancy, decorated support beams. It lie atop a cliff as an acropolis, overlooking the rest of the city with its might. It mimicked the stubbornness of its king. It acted as a sanctuary to those fortunate enough to dodge the overgrown bonfire.

Slow patting of sandals walked up the mound of stairs. The bottom of a toga dragged behind, still white as the glowing of a night-time star; as if it had been bought anew, cleaned and then thrown on. The blaze behind the approaching figure created a silhouette to those staring in front. Blinding white eyes stared forward as he approached. Something green glowed in the darkness; bright as the white eyes. Something weighed on his shoulder; a lump, or some kind of growth. That didn't make any sense. No, perhaps a bag. It wasn't clear what it was. The 'growth' remained as dark as he did.

Silence...

The presence of eyes were felt upon him. Their attention had been captured; whetted through a taste of destruction. Moments passed... Seconds; minutes... Or were they hours? It felt like a lifetime. How much longer would they be kept waiting. Some hoped it would all end. Others prayed; falsely praying as they already knew. Who could they pray to? That option had long been removed. Then the eyes disappeared... reappeared. The movement of the 'growth' had covered them for only a moment. They continued to stare intently at the audience. The extra weight dropped in front of the frightened citizens; thrown several feet from the toes of their nemesis. A body... A body like theirs. The dead weight of an echidna lay facing them with helpless eyes. Simply staring. Life, it had been taken from those old eyes. The eyes of a king. He had been stripped down to the nude. He was reduced, levelled to just another; an equal to all others. There wasn't a single gasp of surprise, as if everyone already knew. It was a united conscious, broken only by a thought of what to do.

Five sets of hands shakily grabbed their spears. The palace doors busted open, five echidna guards following. They stared, nervously... It was impossible to calm themselves. There was no feeling in their nerves. They'd gone cold... Numb. It was a defense though. A defense to what was coming. The powerful being in front of them spoke...

"I offer, again, my compassion." He paused, letting his words sink in. The ears of the citizens had gone blank by now. All they could hear were their own thoughts of fear, "Submit. I only want what I have came for."

Brainwashed fools... The guards rushed forward intending to kill, at least that's how they visualized it. There was no true confidence in the assault. A single snap... It signalled something. What did it signal? It was an unusually loud snap. How could anyone snap their fingers with such sound? A pulse of energy followed on cue. The guards stopped in their tracks. Various poses were made, as if in some game of freeze tag. He had performed 'red light' in a game of red light-green light. They were completely stunned. Their jaws remained loose, allowing for vocalization. Everything felt tight and a bitter taste filled their mouths.

A flash of light... He was gone... Then back... One of the guards keeled over. Life exited his body.

"Will you submit?" The question was directed at the left-furthest guard. Words could not be expressed by the guard. Although he had the ability, he could not issue any words. He simply tried to move his head, in a failed attempt, to issue a negative response. His eyes showed the desire to kill, "Then come kill me."

The guard was released into a full sprint. His spear moved through the air swiftly, closing in on its target. There was a hit. Everything seemed to stop; literally stop. A lifetime passed. His life time. The guard dropped, spear stuck through his jugular.

A woman... Wincing at the site... Covering her child.

"Such loyalty," He was disappointed, "To a king who has brought nothing but pain. A dead king... Will you submit?"

The question was again directed toward the furthest most left. Something about this guard... He was different. Through the site of death he rationalized. His brain acted as a computer. It calculated, scanned, and calculated more. Only one solution could be rationalized. His understanding led him to question everything he had been and who he was. Why was he placed with this question; in this situation. Through the witnessing of two of his best friends' deaths, he made these calculations; this rationalization. He nervously imagined the eyes staring behind him. He felt pressured... The words would not come out. He made no attempt to move his head. His body was limp with fear.

"If that is your answer..." He prepared for the extinction of another life. His hands gripped tight, ready to display yet another example of his power. To him, this was just a talent show and he could go all day. Light surrounded what would be his hand... It raised as if signifying a race; preparing to lower... To end the race of another.

He was halted... Rather surprised actually...

"I will submit." The guard acknowledge through what was less than a whisper...

He was released, along with the others who stared at him surprisingly. Their brains did not compute the same solution as he did. They foolishly hoped. Then again, they were the truly brainwashed ones. They never dared to question their king, nor did they think with similar logic. The stand-alone thought things in a different way. Live today to fight another day... That was his thinking subconsciously, what his brain had computed as the solution. Of course he really believed himself submitting to cowardice, as did the others. His submission was recognized as a single vote for everyone; just as the vote used to permit this encounter.

"Bring to me... The soul of Erus," The deep voice echoed, "and I will find you..."

White eyes disappeared, the faint after image of something green left behind... Then...

There was chaos... A disagreement between the people. Those who wanted to fight and those who agreed with the submission. The unified thought had become broken.

Civil war... Those who stayed loyal to a king, dead with no heir, and those who believed in a new future...

Somewhere in the distance there is a roundabout in the burning city. Acting as the axis is a fountain. In the center of that fountain stands a statue. The sculpture is an exaggeration in size, resembling the Old King. He looks towards the palace; a place where argument is expressed now. There is cracking across the statue, one peculiarly down the left eye, forming resemblance to a scar... This statue, once a symbol to the city's greatness, falls to the ground in pieces. The statue lies in shambles, sitting in the waters of a continuous fountain...