Book 3, Epilogue

Aboard his ship Thunder Spear, Caldas limped back to port to lick his wounds. Only three, of his thirty-seven-strong fleet, followed, operating with diminished crews as they slinked back from their ill-fated pursuit.

His mandibles clicked in agitation, as he concocted a suitable story that would make his actions look heroic.

The Emperor was going to have some very uncomfortable questions when he docked in the capitol. On the bright side, Julian and that cursed witch were surely dead, torn apart by that monster from the Null. There was no way they survived, given the monster that had violently torn apart all of his ships, killing his warriors.

Their assumed deaths were the only reason Caldas dared to show his face in the home star system of his imperial majesty. The emperor did not appreciate failure, and this catastrophe was looking like a catastrophic failure no matter how he looked at it.

The ship docked with a jarring clang, denoting that his time was up. Standing on his hind four legs, Caldas left the ship, his stride confident. Appearances could say a lot.

With the thorn hill clan's strongest warriors decimated in that botched pursuit other rival clans would be searching for weakness. His eyes scanned the dock as he descended the plank, his many eyes resting on a small group of well-dressed blood gorgers.

Each of them was middling celestial-grade cultivators at best, and yet they all looked so smug upon his arrival. A year ago, they wouldn't have dared show such discourtesy, groveling at his feet, and yet now they looked down their mandibles at him. None of these four would have lasted even a minute against the head of house Viotti, let alone the Mad Witch herself.

And yet, they sneered at him like he was worse than the mud on their wings. Caldas forcibly restrained himself from ripping them apart, turning all of his attention to the gorger beside them.

It was chief advisor Herron, and he was no weakling like the other four.

Caldas bowed his head respectfully. "Greetings Herron, I am here to report to his imperial majesty the emperor," Caldas said, knowing the man hated small talk.

Herron gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, gesturing Caldas to follow before skittering away.

It was only ten minutes from when he embarked on the skip to when he met the emperor in his throne room. It was by far the fastest he had ever received an audience, which, given Herron's coldness could not be a good thing.

The brief wait put him on edge, making him wonder if he had made the right decision. Well, it was too late to turn back now. Upon entering the throne room, Caldas approached halfway, his many eyes on the floor, his wings trembling from the suffocating pressure filling the room.

The emperor's rage was palpable, a physical thing, that made him feel like a small hatchling. The throne room was incredibly silent, no one daring to make much as make a peep.

The silence drew on, the atmosphere heavy, and oppressive. It was nearly a minute of discomfort, before the emperor spoke his voice quiet, yet menacing.

"I have given the thorn hill clan, money, power, and the leeway to act without much oversight, all because your clan fulfilled a simple task. I am curious, why did you abandon your post?"

Caldas had to force himself not to flinch at the reproach in the emperor's voice. Forcibly calming his nerves, he spoke in his best confident voice, "Lord emperor, I left a contingent of thirty ships and took another thirty to pursue the Lorocan infiltrators invading your mighty empire," Caldas explained.

"And how many of those ships carried the elite fighters of your clan?"The emperor asked.

Calming the trembling in his wings, Caldas replied. "I left three trusted warriors in charge, to manage the fleet,"

His mind whirled, taken aback by this line of questioning. Why was this an issue? The wormhole clusters his clan had been guarding hadn't been attacked by any sizeable force in over fifty years.

"Three…. I see. It's no wonder then that your clan was crushed without much resistance. A true pity that. Your foolish actions have doomed your clan and three hundred other planets under your protection to the loving embrace of the Terlaschar and the purgatory church," The emperor said coldly.

A shudder ran up his wings at the implications. Caldas froze, shocked at the emperor's statement. All of his excuses, and schemes suddenly seemed so, empty.

The death of Julian Viotti and the mad witch no longer seemed all that important. Especially not compared to the lives of tens of billions of members of the empire.

It was a damning accusation, one he was solely responsible for. A brief glance around the throne room confirmed that, as not even a spec of sympathy could be seen on the onlookers.

Still, Caldas hadn't lived for nearly five hundred years by giving up. "Lord emperor, I am willing to do whatever is necessary to push the undead from our territory, all I need I a chance," Caldas begged, slamming his head onto the floor, hard enough to make his carapace crack.

"You have already used up your chance Caldas. Because of your ineptitude, your clan is in ruins, and I have lost two sectors of my, empire. Now, all that is left for you is a swift end," The Emperor said.

That was the last thing Caldas of the Thornhill clan heard before he was turned to dust and ash with a violent burst of power.

Ignoring the melting fissure carved into the floor, the emperor turned to his personal aide. "Herron, how long will it take us to muster enough ships and troops to retake the Colic wormhole cluster?" The Emperor asked his seething rage enough to shake the entire castle.

"Your eminence. Our forces are being pushed pretty hard by the Lorocans at the moment. Reallocating those forces might lose us more territory." Herron said, calmly.

The emperor's mandibles clacked in annoyance. Eventually, after some thought, he settled on a solution. "Maintain our forces where they are. Send out our stealthiest scout ships with a recruitment order to the sectors that are under attack. I don't care how many ships we lose, just get the message there. Every able-bodied cultivator will be conscripted to fight off the Terlashar, and the church." The emperor ordered.