the Green Skull, but this is largely for show. There has not been an attempt on the Emperor’s
life… ever, as far as I know.
Two reasons suffice for this. In the first place, the Emperor cannot die until that death
brings about the enthronement of a being that can only be described as his diametric opposite in
all ways. Any attempt to destroy him is bound to fail until that moment arrives. This is simply
the way of things.
In the second place, few who attain the presence of Stygius are able, mentally, to stand it.
His chamber in the Palatium is the same as his throne room is the same as his Council. It is less a
room than a void. One enters it entirely upon the Emperor’s will, entering by stepping onto a tile
in the great Antechamber that will either remain solid, blocking your way, or will suddenly
vanish, dropping you deep into a tumbling shaft where light goes to die. You will land safely if
Stygius wills it.
And when you are there, in his Presence, it is impossible not to tremble with awe. The
room is absurdly large, lit with pale green candles that cast small light. You could take one off
the wall, but it would do you no good. They do not burn for illumination, but for dread. It is the
shadow that terrifies, and shadows require their opposite.
And in any case, there is nothing to see. You do not need to go anywhere or do anything.
You may walk “closer” to him if you wish, but it will serve no purpose. He knows where you
are, and you may speak to him, and he to you, as easily in one place as another. He will appear to
you as a shadow out of time, a thing immense just beyond your vision, an incarnation of dread.
“Cuthnos,” came the voice, deep and resonant, with an unnerving softness and a curious
rattle in it.
“I am here, Majesty.”