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...