Prologue
He sat in a chair, a lump of bread in his hand he chewed. Swallowing, he dipped the bread in the soup that sat on the table before him and ate that bit as well. An odd choice of throne, he mused. Odd indeed for someone who is the closest thing to a God... He replayed the events of the previous day in his head. Sydney Losstarot is dead by his fathers hand, the Crimson Blades were virtually killed off, decimated in the fall of Leá Monde, as it sank into the very dust that it came from and I am the most powerful man in existence... where do I go from here?
He looked at the soup that lay before him. He didn't even know why he was eating it; he didn't need it. He couldn't die; it was as simple as that. What of the others? What of Merlose, Hardin and the boy? What of Grissom? What of Duke Bardorba? What am I to do? Sighing to himself, he tore another chunk of bread from the loaf, dipping it into the soup. Popping it into his mouth, he continued to think about what he was going to do with the powers he now had... to use them for the power of good or to hide himself away and to never use them in fear of causing more pain and grief than happiness to the world. The questions just never ceased and Ashley Riot was starting to get rather fed up with them but he knew they were necessary to keep the world a safe place. Without the questions, he would just do what he felt and that could lead to all sorts of trouble...
Sighing again as he realised the soup had grown cold, he took the rim of the bowl between his thumb and forefinger, channelling energy into it. Seeing steam rise from it, he was satisfied it was warm enough and dipped another chunk of bread in...
