January 31st 1889 5:30 am, Hofburg, Vienna
Black night still lay over Vienna. There were few houses in which candles had been lit already in anticipation of the coming day. One of the windows behind which fires had been kindled, beds made and the day's work begun looked out over Hero's Square, in the heart of Vienna – it belonged to the Hofburg itself.
The Emperor clung to a habit of rising early and working for several hours before breakfast already. He was not a man who tolerated slackness in himself or anyone else. A fire crackled in the grate of Franz Joseph's private apartments and he was already seated in the heavy chair behind his desk, studying his recent correspondence. He was so immersed in his work that he did not notice the presence of a figure in the shadows behind him. That is, until a resonant voice filled the room.
"It is time."
The Emperor spun around, staring into the shadows. The servants had strict orders not to interrupt him during his morning routine.
"Who's there?" he demanded, annoyed.
"It is time," the voice repeated and the Emperor could not stop a shiver running down his spine. There was something … unreal about this.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" he demanded.
There was no response, but the Emperor spotted a slight movement in the shadows. The outline of a man appeared, seemingly materializing out of nothingness. Then there was the click of a heel on the polished floor and the swish of a cloak - the figure stepped into the light and became real.
Franz Joseph was faced with a tall man clad entirely in black with pale, almost translucent skin and white blonde hair that reached down to his shoulders. His lips were twisted into a grim smile.
"Who are you?" the Emperor asked once more, noting with annoyance that his voice sounded slightly shaky. "How did you gain access to my apartments?"
"I come and go where I please," the figure replied enigmatically. "And you know who I am."
The Emperor swallowed. A cold dread settled in the back of his stomach, but he was not about to let his fear show – he was, after all, a soldier.
"I must ask you to leave at once. I do not know who you are and I cannot imagine who let you in."
The black figure only chuckled darkly and approached him until they were standing mere feet apart. The Emperor could sense the aura of power surrounding the other man and in spite of himself, he retreated until he ungracefully bumped into his desk.
"What do you want?" he choked out.
The figure's smile morphed into a terrible grin. "I think you know that. It is time."
Before Franz Joseph had the chance to respond, the stranger's hand shot forward, aiming at his chest. The Emperor tried to brace himself for a punch.
But it never came.
Confused, he looked down. And saw with horror that the other man's – the being's – hand had effortlessly penetrated his chest. There was no blood, no wound – the creature's arm seemed to have melted into his own flesh.
He looked back up at the dark figure, his mouth agape in terror.
The servants heard a scream of pain and the sound of a crash and after a moment of confused silence, they stormed towards the Emperor's apartments. They found their master lying on the floor. He had had collapsed, knocking over his desk, and was now desperately clutching at his chest.