The silence between the ruins of what had once been a prospering city of Halcandra seemed deafening. The air was heavy with smoke and the stench of burnt wood, melted metal and... worse.
At the very center of the city stood a single, tall building. It had been turned into a ruin by the disaster, just like everything else in the city. In the land. On the entire planet. And on top of the building, floating a few centimetres over where used to be a beautifully adorned roof, a ship could be found. It contrasted greatly with the broken, bent shape everything else was in. Shiny, light-blue metal reflected the dim light of the pits of lava that had formed when the ground opened and the volcano erupted, covering the sky with ash and burying those who had tried to escape from the earthquakes, the collapsing buildings, the gorges that suddenly appeared where roads used to be, under the deadly hot lava.
And it was all his fault. He, the single survivor, who had just exited the shiny, undamaged ship. He, who didn't dare to look outside, who had heard the screams of the dying. He, who know cowered in a corner of the tall building, the former palace of Halcandra. His fault.
He clutched his ears, two large, cat-like appendages on top of his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. Inside the ship, he had found a screen that monitored signs of life on the planet's surface below and marked them as small, bright dots on a map. He had watched how they disappeared, one dot after the other, some quicker, some slower, some flickered on and off when the magical creatures tried to revive, only to return to bodies that had been too damaged to be used. He had watched.
"Prince."
He let out a small cry of surprise. The sound of wing-beats reached his ears. Where...? What...?
"Up here."
He tilted his head back to look. Under the ship, he could see a dragon - four heads, six gleaming eyes looking down at him. He gave a muffled screech, muffled because he quickly covered his mouth with both hands when inhaling the gases the eruptions had set free filled his lungs, causing him to cough violently.
The dragon chose this moment to gently descended. Powerful wing-beats slowly lowered the massive body until the clawed paws had reached the ash-covered ground. The other Halcandran flinched and scrambled backwards.
"Do not fear me, prince," the dragon said. The other shook his head, mouth kept shut tightly. His hands slowly went up to touch the small diadem, the sign of the royal family of Halcandra... There were three, the king's, the queen's and their child's diadem. The first two were now buried under meters of ash, or crushed under collapsed buildings, or shattered when fallen deep into the earth, or melted in one of the lava pits... He didn't want to think of that, no!
The dragon stepped closer and the other backed away again, his back now pressed against the solid, warm wall behind him. The dragon came closer and bowed all four heads.
"My name is Landia. I am the protector of Halcandra, designated to wake only in times of trouble. You are Magolor, prince of Halcandra, I assume."
Magolor felt his fists clench.
"You!," he yelled, "Protector?! You're pretty late for that! Too late..." His voice broke. It felt good to blame someone, to find someone who could have stopped it, someone who was guilty. But he was guilty. And it was only a matter of time before he would have to admit that - to the dragon as well as himself. Landia's expression remained unchanged.
"The Lor Starcutter," he started as if Magolor's small outburst had never happened, "has been removed form the volcano. With this, the spells who kept the planet balanced have been broken."
Magolor flinched visibly. It... it had seemed like such a good idea. The Lor Starcutter, the ancient ship, belonging to the royal family of Halcandra just as it did before the Ancients had disappeared. He hadn't known what price there was to pay. Landia's eyes, all six, rested on him. The prince. The culprit.
"Who did it?"
He swallowed.
"I don't kn-"
Before he even finished his sentence, Landia shrank back. His wings spread slightly, accenting the look of horror on his face.
"You. The prince is the only survivor. The only one who made it," the dragon narrowed his eyes, "Because you were inside the Lor."
Magolor slumped. His ears drooped. It... it was true. Landia continued once he saw his guess proven right by the prince's reaction.
"A member of the royal family destroying the planet? This... is not something I thought I would ever have to witness."
Magolor didn't meet his eyes. "I will fix it," he whispered hoarsely, "I will bring everyone back. I will fix it."
Landia tilted his head: "There is no way to bring back the dead."
The prince sprung to his feet, glaring at the dragon: "Yes there is! My father's crown, the Master Crown... It's power is unlimited! I will get it! I will... I will fix it!" He had to.
The dragon shook his head: "No, you will not. Not even the Master Crow-"
"No!," the prince yelled, "Don't lie! It's possible! It has to be!"
He stormed off without waiting for a reply. He... he had to find it, he could fix it, he could correct his mistake. He could erase this, he had to find the crown...
Three days. He had been searching for three days. He had changed his clothing, from the royal robes to something more practical he had found in the ruins of some house. It had felt wrong to steal, to take from those who couldn't defend it anymore because he had taken their lives... But he had needed something to cover his mouth so he wouldn't inhale the ashes and poisonous gases.
He had seen many corpses by now. Most he didn't even recognize. Some were so familiar it hurt and he ran off without looking any more at that spot. Around the middle of the second day, he had started to worry. What if the Master Crown got damaged or even destroyed? Melted by lava, crushed by rocks, shattered when hitting the ground so far down he couldn't ever reach it... But he pushed those thoughts aside stubbornly. He just had to search that crown... had to fix his mistake...
And then, when the sun set on the third day, a barely noticeable change in the lighting with all the lava around, Magolor found it. The crown. Hos father, or more, what was left of him, was nowhere to be seen. The prince was grateful. He didn't want to see what he had done to his own... his own parents...
"Focus," he told himself loudly. The crown lay on the floor, protected by a fallen piece of metal. It had melted, but the crown was oddly enough completely undamaged.
Magolor approached it slowly, hands outstretched. He had to be careful not to touch the still hot ground... hopefully the crown wasn't just as hot...
But now, the metal felt oddly cool even through his gloves when he picked it up. His hands closed around it tightly. He shut his eyes and slowly lifted the artifact.
"I will fix it," he whispered and put it on his head.
"Ahhhhhhh-!"
His scream cut off sharply and he clutched the textile covering his mouth. White, hot pain seared through him, his whole body was on fire, his nerves seemed to have been turned into barbed wire - oh ancients, please, this had to stop - the pain was unbearable. And then it was gone. He was panting, still clutching the cloth, floating in the same spot he had been before. He forced his hands to let go. Slowly, very slowly, he reached up.
The crown sat on his head. Carefully, he tried to lift it a little - no. It seemed to have grown attached to him like a new limb. Magolor swallowed. It... it didn't matter. He just... He had to restore Halcandra. He could figure out how to remove this thing later.
Magolor was a wizard. He knew how to channel magic into his arms, he knew how to repair things with spells. Now all he had to do... Ah, yes. He found the pulsing power of the Master Crown, dangerously close to his own, but he paid it no mind. His mentality tugged lightly at it, experimentally... He was sure he knew how to use it now. His hands reached out slightly to touch the melted metal that had protected the crown. Now he just needed to channel it and-
Sparks flew and Magolor was thrown back. He barely managed to catch himself in the air before he hit the surface of a lava pit. Shaking slightly, just slightly, he rose into a standing position in the air again. He glanced at the metal. It was in even worse shape than before, with a big hole blasted into the middle.
Okay, maybe... maybe this magic was to strong. Maybe he shouldn't be touching the thing he was trying to hex. Second try... he folded his hands, then rose them over his head. Now, he just needed to charge the energy... Runes started to glow around his wrists, then began to spin. Magolor closed his eyes.
A huge blast of dark, almost black energy was unleashed. It crashed into a nearby tower, blowing it up completely.
"No!," the prince yelled out in frustration. He didn't want more destruction! He wanted to fix and repair, to heal!
But as he continued to try, as he continued to change tactics... Nothing would work. All he could do was destroy, apparently. He could blow up entire buildings with a single blast, he could create black holes that swallowed up everything around until they collapsed into themselves... But he couldn't even restore a single flower. Nothing.
"What do you think you are doing?!"
Landia. Magolor almost, almost flinched. He wanted to flinch, but something in his mind told him not to. Told him he didn't need to. He... wasn't doing anything wrong, after all. And suddenly, he felt anger rise inside of him. Not the kind of anger he had felt before, the anger at himself for what he had done to his home, his people. No, now it was anger at Landia. Landia who was doubting him, who disapproved of all of his plans... Even if they failed. He could only destroy. He couldn't restore it. There was no going back. No salvation.
And Landia had known, Landia had told him, he had been taunting the prince, he was sure! And suddenly, all seemed clear. What had happened here... he wouldn't be able to change it, not now and not ever. But if he didn't have the right to be happy...
"I will not let you stop me," he replied finally, not really registering how oddly calm he sounded, "I will make sure the entire universe understands what I feel. I will make every planet a copy of what Halcandra is now!" The last part was shouted in an almost deranged tone.
Landia didn't answer. He simply flew forward and before Magolor could move a single muscle, let alone send magic at the dragon, one of his heads had closed its jaws around the crown. Magolor screeched and it came off. The prince spun in the air, trying to catch his senses for a moment. When he had finally managed to do that, Landia had flown up, out of his imminent reach.
"You are not fit to wear this artifact," the dragon called, "You shall not have it."
Magolor glared. He wanted to scream and yell at the dragon to give it back, he wanted to shoot him out of the sky and re-claim the Master Crown forcefully - but he just floated there, shaking with anger. He felt oddly drained, weakened almost. He... he would take it back. After he got some rest.
Magolor, the former prince of Halcandra, stood aboard the Lor Starcutter. He had found a bathroom and decided he wanted to wash off the ash from outside. He brushed back his hood and the cloth over his mouth, then quickly splashed water over his face. The cool, clear liquid felt good. Head bowed, he watched how grey mud, a mixture of water and soot and ashes got washed down the sink in ribbons. He looked up.
"-!"
A sound of horror escaped him. In the mirror over the sink, he didn't see his golden eyes looking back at him - a third eye was stuck where his mouth was supposed to be, large and red and... wrong...
His hands flew up to touch the spot on his face, to dig into the strange thing, hurl it away-
He stopped. No eye. Nothing, But it was clearly there, in the mirror, looking back at him without blinking. It almost looked like a very unsettling smile. With trembling hands, Magolor pulled hood and cloth back up. He just had to cover it. It wasn't there, it couldn't be there...
"Am I... going insane?," he wondered aloud, still trembling madly. No. No, he wasn't he was stressed out. He glanced back at the mirror, pulled the cloth down a little bit, just a very tiny bit...
The eye's iris moved to look at him. Magolor fled the room. He didn't give a sound, not a single peep.
"Forget it," he told himself, "You're stressed out. You have more important things to do!"
Like... like taking back the crown. Take it back from Landia and then get the universe to feel his pain. Yes. He would do that.
And when he put his hands down on the controls on the Lor Starcutter's main bridge, he almost forgot about the horrifying thing.