“It’s been a week. I have a right to inspect the city I rule, even if it’s been reduced to ash. But more importantly, the people need to see their emperor. It could give them desperately needed hope.”
With these words, the now Emperor Jaysynn convinced Gen. Dracon that morning to let him leave the emergency bunker. The general had been adamant about not letting him set foot outside. He said the chaos had to be quelled, the citizens pacified. Thyrians were a proud people, but in the Great Cataclysm, as they were calling it, panic destroyed dignity. Dracon feared dissidents might try to kill Jaysynn because they somehow blamed him for what happened or for perceived inaction. Worse yet, an assassin from an enemy city like Remirion might seize this opportunity to infiltrate Thyrion and murder Jaysynn amid the chaos. Despite his supreme authority, Jaysynn deferred to Dracon’s wisdom and experience on the matter–most of the time.
Now, however, he was on the surface. Dressed in a scavenged black silk suit and tie, Jaysynn emerged from the u-train station entrance accompanied by Dracon, who wore a field uniform. They met a squad of Thyrian soldiers with dirty and tattered fatigues. The squad circled around Jaysynn and Dracon to form a protective barrier. Some carried firearms, but Jaysynn knew now that they were only decoys for the few potential attackers who may not know guns did not work. None of the magic-powered weapons had worked since the Cataclysm. The only weapons those soldiers carried were their fierce expressions. However, some citizens were still intimidated because they feared the magic would return at any moment, powering the guns. Most of the soldiers, including Dracon, brandished their ceremonial sabers. Jaysynn swore a few of the swords were peppered with flakes of dry blood. He was glad he had slipped his knife into his pocket. This was doubly important since they were without the Emperor’s limousine, which could repel magic weaponry.
The city block was empty. Not a soul could be seen in the ravaged buildings or up and down the street. Gray dust covered everything in sight like snow, complete with hundreds of footprints, making it look like an early and dreary winter had struck Thyrion. Undoubtedly, this was dust from the skyscrapers whose collapse Jaysynn had barely escaped. Glass shards, derelict cars, broken bricks, and other debris littered the street under the coat of dust. The air smelled musty, like an old house, and tasted like chalk dust. Jaysynn rubbed the fine grit from his eyes. Silence enveloped everything.
It took every reserve of strength in Jaysynn not to weep. His eyes were already hot and moist under the dust caking on them.
“Where to, my Emperor?” asked Dracon.
“I want to see the Heart of Thyrion,” replied Jaysynn.
“My Emperor, the Great Well is gone.”
“Then take me to what’s left of it.”
The general’s jaw tightened. “I believe the Emperor’s time would be better suited elsewhere, perhaps giving a speech at Kyzer Square.”
“That can wait. You said you saw an explosion come from our magic Well. It must be the epicenter of this disaster. I have to see what’s become of it.”
Dracon huffed. “It shall be done, my Emperor.” He relayed the orders to the soldiers, and without breaking the protective circle, they marched down the street.
The city Jaysynn knew well had become an unrecognizable ghost. He could not identify any of the streets they walked. Many were blockaded by collapsed buildings, requiring them to take detours. Thankfully, the soldiers had familiarized themselves with this urban maze. The snowy dust never quite disappeared. Many skyscrapers—the pillars of Thyrion’s prestige—had collapsed, blanketing everything in their wake. Jaysynn recognized what were once his city’s famous shops, restaurants, plazas, and temples—many of which he had visited—all reduced to rubble, abandoned. The city’s color was gone, drained. The stench of death saturated the air, forcing Jaysynn to cover his nose at times to prevent himself from retching. How many bodies still remained buried under all the rubble?
More people appeared as they went. Most wore ragged clothes and even more ragged expressions. Many hid inside the barely standing buildings. Some scavenged trashcans and dumpsters for food. Their stench mingled with the smell of death. All of them, if they didn’t look away, stared at Jaysynn and his entourage, either in contempt or pleading. Their hollow eyes bored into Jaysynn, haunted him. He had to look away.
I never should’ve declared martial law, thought Jaysynn. The people mistrust me. We can’t afford that now. I have to renege it…soon.
“The Watchman will save us!” Jaysynn heard one of the people say.
“But nobody’s seen him since the disaster. He’s probably dead,” said another man.
“No! I saw him running through the city right after the explosion. He’s alive. I know it! He wouldn’t abandon us,” said a woman.
Dracon shook his head, scowling. “My proud countrymen have been reduced to believing an urban legend will save them. If this ‘Watchman’ exists, he has used their desperation to poison their souls.” He clenched his fist.
If you only knew… thought Jaysynn, but his mind quickly turned to something else. I hope Kyrie is okay. I haven’t heard from her since before the Cataclysm. Is she alive? Is she still in the city? What about her family?
Jaysynn was lifted from his thoughts by Dracon’s continuing denunciations of the Watchman “legends,” so he decided to change the subject.
“Why aren’t the Select helping the people?” he asked.
“My Emperor, the Select…have all lost their powers,” replied Dracon.
Jaysynn’s jaw dropped. “Is it true? Are they powerless?”
“I had expected they would have regained their abilities by now, but their powers seem to have vanished with the magic itself.”
Jaysynn shook his head, worrying. “It’s times like this when we need them most.”
The general’s voice was full of indignation. “We are Thyrians. We are a great people with or without magic powers.” His tone softened. “Perhaps it’s better this way. Now we are all truly equals.”
“I hated them for their arrogance as much as anyone, but how can we rebuild without their abilities?”
“Have you forgotten everything I taught you?” asked Dracon in an agitated tone. “You don’t need magic abilities to be great and powerful. Weakness is the only disgrace.”
Jaysynn was silent. He knew his mentor was right. Wasn’t he?
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