For days, Atreus was transported from place to place, up the Dark Road to Hag Grief, then to Naggarond itself. Finally, under heavy escort, he was brought to Ghrond, though no matter how many times he asked, no one could explain why or for what purpose. In the Tower of Prophecy was where his journey ended, but it was only the beginning of his imprisonment. High in the tower where his chamber lay, he could see nearly all of the north continent. He could see the swirling storms of Chaos to the north and the expansive city of Naggarond to the south.
There in that dark tower, the boy was waited on hand and foot. Great feasts were presented to him, but he did not eat. Drinks of all pleasures were poured into his cup, but he refused to drink. Garments of rare and comfortable fabrics lined his wardrobe, but he left them there. How could he enjoy such things when his future was so uncertain? How could his parents lie to him for so long? How could they not trust him? He wept, for he could never ask. The questions stewing in his mind would forever remain unanswered.
In the captivity of these Druchii, he could only guess at his fate. Judging from the horrors he witnessed out his window, all the sacrifices, the blood rituals, the thousands of slaves sent to the cauldrons, he could only imagine the worst for himself. The elves were careful. His food was cut for him before ever entering the room, never allowing him access to a knife. His chamber stood high over the city, too high to use sheets as rope to climb down. The walls were too slippery to climb down and the guards outside his door never rested. He was a prisoner surrounded by luxury, and if he was honest with himself, that was far worse than to have no luxury at all. At least then, he would know where he truly stood in this place.
A knock struck the door, which promptly opened before Atreus could say anything in protest. A swarm of black-armoured soldiers with great halberds barged in, lining the walls shoulder-to-shoulder. From the dark hallway beyond his chamber emerged Malekith, but there also came another Druchii; a woman, barely clad in any clothes at all. She was young, with long flowing hair that seemed to dance as if underwater. On her head rested a golden crown of twisted horns and spikes. Her purple robes hung loosely from her waist, decorated with golden lanyards and chains. Her face was stern and callous, her eyes filled with wisdom far beyond her youthful appearance. She came within arms reach of the boy and halted, scanning Atreus up and down.
"This is him?" She asked.
"Yes, mother." Malekith replied.
"Are you sure?" She asked, circling the boy with slow deliberate steps. "He's too…boring to be him. And yet, I sense the touch of the winds within him."
Her expression softened as she took Atreus by the chin, rotating his head left and right. "Do not be afraid, child. I would never do anything to hurt you. You are more valuable than all the pain in the world."
"I'm not afraid." Atreus replied.
"Of course not." The woman said with a knowing smirk. "Your voice lies well enough, but your heart rate betrays you."
"What are you going to do to me?" Atreus asked.
"You're worried you will face some terrible doom at our hands." The woman sneered. "That is unnecessary, I believe. There is only one thing you must do for us. It won't hurt. It will barely even register in your brain when it happens."
The woman knelt down and looked dead into Atreus' eyes. "When we give you a heart, all you must do is hold it. That is all."
"That's…all?"
"That is all." The woman replied. "I will do the rest."
"And what will holding the heart do?"
The woman smiled again. "You will save the world. Do you know what's going on out there?"
Atreus shook his head. "I only know what my parents told me…"
"And they can clearly be trusted, can't they? Oh, dear, where are my manners? I am Morathi, mother to the rightful king of the world and your greatest ally, child."
Atreus said nothing.
"The world is in tatters." Morathi continued, ignoring the boy's silence. "Chaos trickles in through the poles. Humanity fights amongst itself for petty resources and land titles. Beasts mutate, the undead rise, dwarves cower, orcs rampage across the lands and the last of the Old One's warriors slowly wither to nothing. Chaos is biding its time, but it will be ready soon. Already, Archeon, the Champion of the Chaos Gods, rides to claim you. He comes now, and through him, Chaos is destined to destroy the world. The empires of this realm are doomed to fall against him. I have seen it. The puzzle is complete, and yet, one extra piece remains without a slot…you."
Morathi stood and paced the floor. "There is only one hope for this world, and that one hope is to bring Khaine back from the dead. With the proper rituals, the Bloody-Handed God will take your body for his own, and with a physical form, he will beat back the armies of Chaos once and for all. The end times can be prevented, and only through you can we achieve this! You must be brave, child. Will you serve your destiny? Will you save us all?"
Atreus pondered for a moment. "What is there to save? Slavers, murderers, thieves and kidnappers? And once it's done, will you ask Khaine to stop, or will you keep going, killing everyone who stands in your way? Maybe the end times will be a good thing. Maybe you deserve extinction."
Morathi's kindness sank, her facade crashing down as if it was never there. "If you will not aid us willingly, you will be chained down, your fingers broken backwards and the bleeding heart placed in your exposed palm!"
Atreus' rage came again, but this time, he felt stronger, more certain of himself. The red flames in his fists glowed, melting the air itself. He didn't cough or weaken. A storm began to form overhead, clattering against the window frames. When Atreus charged Morathi, she merely waved her hand nonchalantly, pushing Atreus against the floor. He struggled, but Morathi's magic was far more powerful than the boy's strength. Morathi glanced at the windows as the storm grew violent. At the sight of it, she smiled.
"So he is the one." She whispered with a malevolent smile. "You have spirit, but all powers require growth. As you are, you are nothing compared to me. Rest, now."
And with another wave of Morathi's hand, Atreus's eyes fluttered shut, dragged to slumber by the Witch-Hag's magic. When he awoke, he was being dragged up the stairs before a great congregation of howling, cheering Druchii, most of them naked, all of them reaching out to touch him. Arms that came too close were severed by his armoured escort. As his eyes refocused, he realised that the stone beneath his feet was drowning in red, flowing freely down the stairs. The guards that dragged him up sloshed through the blood, wading through it as if fording a low river. High above, at the top of this massive altar, stood Morathi and Malekith, standing together with chins held high.
Atreus struggled, but the chains that bound him were glowing with strange magic that restrained not only him, but his newfound powers as well. A freshly-sacrificed human slave was pushed off the altar to make room for him, and he was thrown atop the stone, struggling the whole way. Morathi looked down at the terrified boy as the spires above their heads began to flicker with arcane energy. The crowd screamed their joy as the clouds swirled over their heads. Rain began to pour down on Atreus' face, forcing him to cough as it dripped down his throat.
"If you came willingly, you might have been seen as a hero, child." Morathi muttered as Atreus struggled against his restraints. " You could have held your chin high, but now you will be seen by all my kind as a coward, tied down and begging for mercy like a common slave. You were destined for so much more."
Morathi muttered her Druchii spells and her horrid curses as she poured sacrificial blood over the boy, letting it drop into his mouth and nose. He could only gasp for perhaps a few good breaths before more was dropped over him. He cried out for help, but was drowned out by every other Druchii in the city. As Morathi continued her spell, a guard ran up to Malekith and whispered into his ear. Though no one could see Malekith's face, they knew that there was rage behind the mask.
"Expedite the ritual." Malekith barked as he drew his blade. "We have company."
"Surely our defences can hold against Archeon for a little longer." Morathi argued.
"Yes, were it only Archeon at our gates." Malekith hissed before he spun about and departed down the stairs.
Morathi's face changed from calm indifference to concern at the comment, and judging from her face, she already knew who else had come.
"How dreadful that your father had to survive only to watch you die." Morathi spat, pouring more blood over the boy.
Father is here? Atreus thought to himself, and putting aside the anger he felt for his father's lies, struggled once more.