Lucius woke with a shout. Silk sheets fell to the floor at his side. Memories of his past flooded his mind. Memories of pain and hunger, greater than anything else.
Richard's face, his jaw flapping silently as Lucius's blade twisted within his throat, stared at him from his dreams. Thomas and Brienne's charred corpses laying in the background. King Arcadios pleading for his life before his entire being was consumed by Lucius's [Devour].
World leaders came and knelt before him. Ranks meant nothing to him. He moved beyond it. Even the Empyreans were like insects beneath him. None of them moved him, but he allowed them to live. Lucius had no desire to rule, wishing only for a place of his own. To live and be left alone. Finally.
"Dad!"
"Papa!"
