A king is dead, but his power lingers.


A king is dead, and with him the fatal flaw.


This was not conquest, this war where Light yet offends.


This was selfish — a father’s rage in place of a king’s measured hand.


There was a time to conquer the Light that a purer truth might overtake all that played at inspiration.


That time was not now.


A son’s failure brought about the father’s fall.


A king is dead. His power lingers unclaimed.


A king is dead. His pride in a lineage meant to stretch across time and stars serving as his undoing.


But Noru’usk has no lineage to consider.


Noru’usk has no flaw.


He is a soldier. A general. A maker of war.


Once a servant, his eyes turn toward the vacant throne, there for the taking on the other side of this temporary cage.


A king is dead. Good riddance.


A king will rise.


If not Noru’usk, another.


If not another...