Midas walked through the palace dungeons. The only sound that could be heard was that of his footsteps and, from time to time, the sound of a guard saluting him. Criminals condemned to death were usually kept in the deepest parts of the dungeons, in isolated cells and always under watch to prevent them from committing suicide or communicating with other prisoners in any way.
Midas's walk lasted quite a while. After all, this place had always been immense: a center for the torture and detention of the greatest criminals of the Stormlands.
Finally, after several minutes, he arrived at the cell where the once-powerful Emperor Ferdinand was being held. Two heavily armed guards stood watch at the entrance. They immediately knelt when they saw Midas approaching the cell they were guarding.
"Hegemon, we are at your command."
This was the attitude every soldier of the empire and its people were expected to show when the chosen of the Storm God stood before them. At first, when Midas was a child, he found it uncomfortable, but over time and with the passing years, he began to value his position and what it meant to be the Hegemon. In time, he even came to take pride in his role as the ruler of all humanity.
"I want to speak with Ferdinand alone. Withdraw and make sure no one overhears our conversation."
"As you wish."
The guards rose and stepped back far enough to continue observing Ferdinand's cell from a distance.
Midas was absolutely certain they would fulfill his request, even going so far as to kill anyone who dared approach. Even without his warning, every soldier in the palace was utterly loyal. They had been personally selected by his father; they were loyal guards to the bone and merciless killers when needed.
Finally, he entered the cell where Emperor Ferdinand lay chained. His gaze was fixed on the floor, just as before, showing no interest in the person now standing in front of him.
Midas approached him and removed the gag that prevented him from speaking. Normally, every prisoner here wore one. However, even when given the chance to speak, the emperor said nothing. He simply remained there, staring into nothingness.
In truth, Midas was willing to wait as long as it took for the man to decide to speak. However, he had to remain standing; if he sat on the cell's bench, it would probably break… or perhaps not, but he chose not to tempt fate.
At last, the emperor raised his gaze. Yet Midas did not see the hopeful look that had once caught his attention; what stood before him now was nothing more than a man with dead eyes.
"Hegemon… our dear and beloved Hegemon… we have been abandoned. The Storm God has abandoned us."
Apostasy? That was a crime punishable by death. Well, it hardly mattered; this man would die soon enough. Still, Midas did not quite understand what he meant. He had seen the Storm Goddess not long ago, in fact, and she had seemed well, watching over humanity as she always had.
"Ferdinand, you have lost your mind and your way. How can such words of weakness come from your mouth? Especially you, one of the greatest men of these lands."
Tears fell down Ferdinand's face like a tide.
"Our beloved Hegemon… you have not seen the things I have seen."
Ferdinand's gaze shifted through all manner of emotions: there was anger, resignation, fear.
"Haah…"
Midas sighed. He truly wanted to believe that this man had not gone mad, or at the very least that there was a reason behind his madness.
"Then what did you see that could be so terrible as to make you plan to take up arms against your rulers… your gods?"
Ferdinand found the strength to lift his head. Perhaps, if he made this final effort, he could still change the future he had seen.
"My Hegemon…"
Ferdinand struggled to put all the information he possessed into words.
"I… had visions…"
Visions… This was a delicate subject for Midas. He had learned to live with his dreams of death his entire life, burying them deep within himself so they would not affect his decision-making in a way that would become erratic. Yet now he was more willing to listen to what Ferdinand had to say.
"What visions, exactly?"
"I saw many things, my Hegemon. I saw the central continent consumed by fire; I saw the towers of the magic academy collapse in a black blaze that neither water nor magic could extinguish; I saw the mages lose their magic and become nothing more than weak men."
Now Midas had a truly compelling reason to visit the academy, even if these were nothing but hallucinations.
"But that was not even the worst of it, my lord. I saw a war… the greatest war our world has ever seen. I saw our soldiers fighting bravely against monstrous beasts."
He seemed to be reaching his limit. His chest heaved as he searched for air to continue forming his words. Midas did not say a single word; he did not want to interrupt the man's revelation.
"Hahh…"
His hands trembled; clearly, he could not bear his own emotions.
"I saw those heretic dogs from across the sea land in thousands of ships, my lord. There were so many they darkened the horizon. I saw an immense dragon burn our proud cities, filled with women, men, and children… all turning to ash. Innocent people, my lord! What fault was theirs?"
His exalted voice slowly calmed, giving way to a sadness and loneliness that were almost tangible.
"And I saw you, my lord. I saw your death, fighting bravely for all of us, surrounded by beasts and traitors. You fought with all your strength, even in your final moments… even when… your father drove his blade through your chest, letting your life slip away. My lord, please believe me! You must escape, I beg you. You must flee. You must live; as long as you remain alive, our empire will live with you. These lands are doomed."
At that moment, a black liquid began to pour from Ferdinand's mouth, thick as mud. His eyes turned black, flooded by that same sludge. His body began to convulse violently.
Midas's blood seemed to freeze. He knew what this was: he had seen it in his dreams. It was the Curse of Despair that spread across the world and caused people to transform into horrid monsters.
Midas knew what he had to do. He drew the sword at his side.
Slash.
With a single, simple yet effective strike, Ferdinand III's head rolled, preventing him from transforming into a beast.
Midas remained staring at the emperor's lifeless body. His visions could very well be connected to his own. Perhaps this man had seen a future in which Midas listened to him, gathered an army of loyalists, and left—one in which he would reach that immense fortress where he would fight until his final days.
But Midas knew that was not a future he wanted: a future where he traded a swift death for a life of agony and endless battle. And so, if it was necessary, he would remain in his lands… and die with his people.