I saw the end coming. I sowed it myself. A thousand engines burning in the upper atmosphere, the night sky turned gold with the heat of their approach, as the revenging fleet of the myriad planets once under the press of my thumb came home to dispose of their Emperor of Emperors.
A growing tide of righteous fury, a few dedicated dissenters to fan the flame, and a cadre of plucky heroes to carry out the impossible missions and milk the ever-sweet nectar of hope. All of this brought us to that day. The hour of their victory. The orbital batteries did little to hold them back before they were silenced. My men on the ground were eviscerated by their salvos from on high. I wonder if history will recall the innumerable citizens they immolated in their glorious assault? I never relinquished my grip. I made them bleed for every step, and made them draw blood for every breath of my life.
And they will bleed, long after I am dead. That is your purpose, child. I write you these memories, and secret you away into their ranks. Would they kill you, just for being my kin? A mewling babe, no less? They will try to teach you otherwise. They will turn your nose from the truth. But it is ingrained in your skull. Immovable to all but death.
I held the universe in my palm. So will you. Vengeance will not save me, but it offers me a final peace. Yes, you will make them bleed, and you will burn their worlds, and they will give you the tools to do it, all while thinking you are their victory.
Paddy Dobson
26th September 2022