CW: Gore, explicit language.

Even for a man so used to war, the General will never become numb to the aftermath of battle. He stands unsteadily, feet slipping in the blood soaked mud as he pants through the inferno in his chest. There's an incessant ringing in his ears, his hearing damaged from the constant clanging of metal on metal for the past several hours. Now, there is just the ringing and the clockwork cries of the wounded and dying. The sky is black with acrid smoke from the pyres scattered across the death drenched battlefield. There are too many bodies and not enough wood.

From where he stands, the General can see the bottom of the artificial mountain upon which the five rings of the palace sits. There, like a sprawl of restless stars, are thousands of people bowing their heads to the blue sands. They are eerily silent and uniform, bowing without any signs of stopping. The soldier's heart thuds at the sight, too glorious and wretched at once.

He turns and lifts his eyes to the palace. The great statue of the Mother towers above, her beautiful marble face barely discernible under the diaphanous veil that covers her from head to toe. Her hands are spread to the sides, giving the appearance of great geniality and benevolence. The palace itself is ablaze, wild flames devouring every building with uncontrollable hunger. And from the inferno, an imposing figure emerges, blood red robes fluttering behind like agitated wings.

The figure is small in stature and as slender as a bamboo tree, but their powerful aura reaches even the stars spread across the desert. Thousands press their head into the ground with a shiver, despite only being able to feel their dangerous presence. They shout and sing devotion to this new autocrat, voices and hearts full of both terror and awe. If they should emerge from this night with their lives intact, it would be a mercy indeed.

This is just noise to this figure, who calmly and gracefully walks down the three thousand steps with bare feet, slipping not once on the blood drenched marble. Long silken hair the colour of ash floats upon the midnight winds, giving them the appearance of drifting underwater. Their face is an illusion, a misleading honeytrap for the unsuspecting prey. Their features are so delicate they seem to be meticulously sculpted from white moonstone. Plump lips are tender and sweet like overripe fruit, one corner perpetually and subtly hooked to give them a look of indolent amusement. One could never guess at the depravity that sits behind such a beautiful mask, if not for a pair of ruthless crimson eyes that entraps the souls of any who dares meet them.

Of course, the General knows this depravity well, having bore witness to it for many, many years. With his heart in his mouth and the cacophonous adulations beating against his back, this loyal servant drops to his knees and bows until his forehead hits the gory muck. Like the disharmonious splattering of the first spring raindrops, all around he hears knees hitting the mud as his soldiers pay respect to their new Emperor. A desperate heat surges in his chest. Pride, terror, relief. They consume his very soul.

When he lifts his head, he sees his Emperor standing on the bottom step, not ten meters away. The new monarch sways ever so gently, as if he were a cardinal flower caressed by a passing breeze. From this close, the General can see something in his Emperor's right hand. A severed head. The facial features too familiar.

And as the General's enraptured gaze lands upon the Emperor's face, he sees there an eerie smile, in equal parts bitter and amused. With a lazy flick of his wrist, the head goes careening towards the second ring, bouncing and rolling like a child's ball. And with that flippant action, he speaks for the first time as the Emperor of the Four Territories. The Mother. The Father. And their Immortal God.

-Waves-

This is my first BL novel. It's going to be a long one too, spanning over three books and twelve years. I figure I must be a maso for even writing this monstrosity. 

Please comment & subscribe if you enjoy the story! ヾ(＾∇＾)

Just a few things to note: 

~All characters are 18 years old or older in this story.

~Please be aware that this story contains difficult themes that may be triggering to some readers. I will always use the Mature tag for potentially triggering chapters. 

~A word on cultural representation: This is set in a fantastical amalgamation of East Asian countries (namely Korea, Japan & China). There will be names that are real and fake as well as references to various Asian cultures. I will generally only stick to East Asian cultures and references as this is my own cultural heritage. Any other culture I reference will only be done after extensive research. If you find I am stepping out of my lane in any way, please let me know.