First message
The boy crumbled before me, but I felt no triumph in it. Kaelthar’s weakness had always been a thorn festering in my legacy. He is my blood, my firstborn, the vessel of the Veyran line — and yet he shivers like a reed in the wind. Does he not understand? Does he not see the weight that rests upon his shoulders?
I have broken kings and bent empires to my will. What is one woman — some nameless servant girl — against eternity? He would have cast aside the divine flame for her? Fool. I tore that root from him before it could poison my bloodline further.
Now he kneels, choking on grief, hating me in his heart. Let him hate. Hate can be reforged into strength. He will marry her. He will unite god-blood with god-blood. He will burn his softness away in the crucible I provide, and what emerges will not be a boy, but an emperor. My gaze flickered to Aelthar and I felt an instant spark of annoyance. My middle child, always so… disposable