1 Just a little change

Dietrich stood on top of the grotesque mound of Elven corpses; surrounded by the fallen sisters and brothers of Galleria, many of the tribes had fought against him, with many of the natives dead there was no one to oppose his rule now. His blood ran cold when he stopped battling, the faces of the Elf's he'd killed reeling in his mind's eye. Before he could force the bile back down his throat a sudden wave of nausea hit Dietrich and it was too late. His entire body contracted violently forcing everything up and out. The worst part had come and passed and with it the arrival of another feeling. A feeling of grief for the lives lost, dread over what this small war meant, and fear for the future ahead of him. His father had been a fearsome galactic ruler, he held power over eight constellations and twenty-three thriving planetary units. Their own planet annihilated and consumed by a Red Giant, trillions perished and the emperor decided than to set his sights towards the stars. One common belief connected them all.

We are stronger together.

Sargon; Dietrich's father was a powerful Faye, depicted by many as either a ghostly haunting figure with a thunderous voice or a wild beast-like man who could devour whole planets if he willed, Sargon was neither. He was a refined man, who thought lowly of himself and cared immensely for anyone he met but as the years crept on the burden of the ever-expanding kingdom weighed heavily on his shoulders. Dietrich had trained alongside his father since the tender age of 42, soon he'd lead the new cosmos in his father's stead but he wasn't quite sure if he had the same conviction. Sargon was a man whom no being could hold a flame to including Dietrich.

As he lifted his face towards the east bellowing winds; blood, bile, and the filth dripped from his chin, everything ached but there was some comfort. He could hear the sound of the shells echoing from every direction, the worst was over now. Even still no matter the time that passed, the trauma was with him and with it an uneasiness knowing that his nights would be longer.

"When will you learn not to wallow in self-pity, your tears weren't meant for the dead." Yuma spat while stepping on an Elven head under her copper-clad boots, the fearless warrior chose not to wear her empathy on the battlegrounds for that very reason. One should not be sensitive to the dead. That was one of the militant theologies Nesaeans carried from their history. Oddly their own king had fallen at the hands of Sargon in epic battle hundreds of years ago.

"Water-" Dietrich asked in a calm and airy voice. His stomach still unsettled, the discomfort was only building in his throat. She handed him a flask, the first swig cooled his entire mouth. She rolled her eyeball and crunched the skull underneath her clad toe. Dietrich dry-heaved and looked away. Yuma looked down at Dietrich's feet, which were covered for the first time in a red waxy substance.

"Don't the Faye fly or hover or whatever bullshite, what's that shite on your hoofs." she paused to examine the residue, Dietrich's face went pale.

The ground started to sway underneath him and the shells rang even louder in his ears, the gallows started to darken and the bellowing winds grew cold. Dietrich fell to the bodies beneath him, to the bloodied soles of Yuma.

Although a Faye had never fallen in front of Yuma, she knew something had gone amiss. Yuma struggled to lift the heavy fallen Faye, twenty-three kilometres, and only one Dyer Deer.

> In Counsel Chambers on the planetary unit: Nepxus<

Emperor Sargon felt the pain in his chest; a feeling of regrettable nostalgia filled his thoughts, he'd felt it only once, the Red Giant. The pain of not being able to save his own planet and the helplessness of watching it be swallowed whole by a Red Giant. As he cradled his son in his arms and held onto his wife's hand while it was still warm. The mighty Deodar Cedar Tree could be seen from all the way in space, nervous the young Sargon, Dietrich and his wife boarded a cosmic cruiser for a vacation only to later find out that she was pregnant and complications could occur to the newborn in-flight during the landing back at home base. Even so, he leapt through space with his family which led to his wife and unborn child's demise.

Life was cruel like that, he was emotionally distressed as he held Dietrich and his deceased wife in his arms.

He knew that something had gone wrong then and questioned if his strong and valiant son had been defeated by the hands of his Elven enemy. He tried to reach his son through his thoughts but the line weakened as his fears grew stronger. 'Dietrich is the Faye' Sargon thought, 'He is the last and the strongest of us all.'

However, his thoughts were interrupted when Amoeba twirled into the room, her wings whipping the air around her until she stopped and stretched her back out.

"Oh, when is my lover to return to my bed, while he's left the flowers and trees have withered and now bled. Tell me what fowl foe had plucked the Faye from my eye, I shall pull their entrails and drop them down from up high." Amoeba riddled to the Emperor, dancing theatrically in her revealing silks.

She stopped to giggle as her chocolate skin shimmered like the stars of the night sky. Sargon looked at her kindly and shook his head; she'd been in the kingdom for ten years but fallen for Dietrich long before she arrived, Sargon gestured for her to come closer.

"Lend me your power, young Pixie' he reached out and she excitedly took hold of his elbow 'Let the link between father and his son be restored through the powers of the Grand Deodar and the fountains of Gynyar." His voice echoed in the Chambers.

"Powers be true, be bright, be blue. Link father with son and shine until the day be done." Amoeba added in her most calm and serious voice.

The air around them swirled and Sargon wings rose above his shoulders, they ached after being tucked away all these years. Amoeba stood on her tiptoes, her yellow curls bouncing as she strained to hold onto Sargon. White clouds filled the room and the air-popped and sizzled with blue and purple sparkles, one cloud went through them, and therein its palpable mists Sargon could see his boy stooping over the edge of a cot as Yuma pressed a damp compress to his temple.

She got up and he could see his son's red congealed feet, the colour the same as the grand Deodar.

'Could it be that after all these years the Deodar had survived and chosen Dietrich to Root?' Sargon thought and he longed for answers.

The Pixie and the Faye grew quiet and took in the scene; a new challenge had just emerged from the universe, neither of them knew, the question ravaged them both: father and son.

What do I do?