Shadow Monarch in DC

Chapter 508: Death’s Grief

Apokolips - The Throne Room of DarkseidDarkseid sat on his throne, he was massive in both size and presence, even the light around him dimmed. The very concept of hope seemed to wither in his shadow. His burning eyes glowed with the Omega Effect.

His hand rested on the armrest of his throne.

The metal groaned, Desaad knelt before him, his form hunched and trembling, his voice a dry rasp. He had been speaking for some time, his words a river of information and analysis and carefully calculated flattery.

"I told you, Master, that Steppenwolf would fail." Desaad’s eyes darted upward, then down again. "And it seems he did not merely fail. He gave them access to very sensitive information. About us, about Apokolips and about.."

The armrest cracked.

Darkseid’s fingers had tightened. The metal, forged in the fires of a star, bent like clay. A web of fractures spread across its surface.

"Yes, Desaad," Darkseid said.

His voice was calm, terribly calm.

"Yes, I am aware that Steppenwolf was a failure." His eyes burned brighter. "Death is not a reward he deserves."

Desaad’s mouth opened and closed, his throat worked. Sweat beaded on his pale forehead.

"Master," he said carefully, "I had to lie and manipulate Steppenwolf into believing he would receive our aid, perhaps we should have aided him? It was a good chance to corner the Shadow Monarch. If we had truly sent the Furies or your Elite. A coordinated assault.."

"No." Darkseid’s eyes fixed on Desaad, not angrily, but with a cold look that was somehow worse.

"You saw what he can do." Darkseid’s voice was soft, almost contemplative. "The planet that is under his control, Nyx, he calls it, is not something to be taken lightly. He commands an entire Lantern Corps, outside the jurisdiction of the Guardians. Outside the jurisdiction of the other petty Corps, he has forged an army of shadows that answers to him and him alone."

He paused.

"And he has allies on Earth. Powerful ones and intelligent ones." His eyes narrowed. "Especially the Kryptonian and the Bat."

Desaad nodded frantically. "Yes, Master. The Kryptonian alone would be a formidable obstacle, but the Bat.."

"The Bat is more dangerous than the Kryptonian," Darkseid interrupted. "The Kryptonian has limits, the Bat has his brain. And the Shadow Monarch has given him access to information that will take years to fully process, but the Bat will be able to process it in less."

Desaad’s mouth snapped shut.

Darkseid leaned back on his throne, the cracked armrest groaned beneath his weight.

"We should remain vigilant," he said. "For now. Let them exhaust themselves, let them fight their wars, their Monarchs, their petty battles. It will fall into pieces soon enough."

Desaad’s expression shifted.

"As you command, Master. We did learn quite a bit, after all with the things happening on Earth. The dimensional gates, the chaos." His smile was thin, almost reptilian. "Every battle they fight weakens them and every victory costs them something."

Darkseid’s lips curved.

"Exactly, Desaad." He looked past the kneeling scientist, past the walls of the throne room, past the boundaries of Apokolips itself. "I am simply waiting for the arrival of a good target. One that will be more than appropriate for our new force."

Desaad’s eyes widened. "Ah yes, The project."

"Speak of it."

Desaad straightened slightly still kneeling, but with a new energy, a new eagerness.

"I have received word, Master." His voice was almost breathless. "From your daughter."

Darkseid’s expression did not change.

"Grail," he said. "She has taken a long time preparing for this."

"Of course, Master. And just as you said before, I have trust in her if you do." Desaad leaned forward. "She has managed to infiltrate one of the so-called Gates on Earth. She has captured the monsters there and sent them our way." His smile widened. "They should be a good batch to create what I want."

Darkseid regarded him for a long moment.

"Good," he finally said. "Though these are not the ones that we want. What I want has yet to appear."

Desaad nodded eagerly. "Yes, Master. These will be mere prototypes. Experiments, tests. What I do.." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "What I do is all in your glory, my Master."

Darkseid’s eyes bore into him.

"Good, carry on, Desaad and do not disappoint me."

Desaad’s head bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched the floor.

"I wouldn’t dare, Master."

He remained there, prostrate, trembling, waiting for dismissal that did not come.

"One more thing," Desaad said, his voice barely a whisper. "She said she will remain there, on Earth for more, and I fear..." He hesitated. "I fear that will attract the attention of that person."

Darkseid’s eyes flickered.

The Omega Effect pulsed.

"It does not matter what she does," Darkseid said. "As long as I get results."

Desaad’s relief was palpable. "Of course, Master. I will aid her with whatever I can, resources or information, whatever is required."

Darkseid waved his hand a dismissive gesture, a signal that the audience was over.

"Go."

Desaad rose. Bowed and backed away from the throne, his steps quick and silent, his eyes never leaving his master’s face until the shadows swallowed him.

Darkseid sat alone.

The throne room was silent.

His hand rested on the cracked armrest, he simply sat, his eyes burning in the darkness, his mind turning over plans within plans within plans.

Then Darkseid suddenly smiled "Interesting times," he murmured.

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Greece - The Caldera of Thera

The Aegean Sea stretched toward the horizon, its surface catching the last light of the setting sun. The island of Thera, Santorini, as the tourists called it rose from the water in a crescent of whitewashed buildings and blue-domed churches, a place of beauty that had been built on the bones of a volcano that had once destroyed civilizations.

The Gate stood at the center of the caldera.

It was massive and pulsed with energy, its edges crackling with power that made the air taste of mana. The structure around it was temporary, functional: a staging area for Hunters, a command center for the international coalition that had been assembled to deal with the threat within, tents, equipment and the constant sound of monitoring devices and the murmur of anxious voices.

Arthur and Raven materialized at the edge of the caldera.

Arthur’s shadows receded around them, withdrawing into the ground like water finding its level. He looked around at the Gate, at the staging area, at the distant figures of Hunters preparing for battle.

"We’re late," he said.

Raven adjusted her coat, her eyes scanning the area. "Fashionably so."

"The raid team already entered."

"Then we’ll follow them."

Arthur started walking toward the Gate, then he stopped.

A figure stood in front of the Gate.

She was small, unassuming, dressed in black, her dark hair short and practical. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes fixed on the tear in reality as if she were studying a painting in a museum. A silver ankh hung around her neck.

Raven’s eyes widened.

"Didi?"

The figure turned.

Death of the Endless smiled, a gentle smile, her eyes, when they met Raven’s, were kind. When they moved to Arthur, something in them shifted. Grew deeper and more serious.

"Raven," she said. "Arthur."

Arthur’s brow furrowed, his steps slowed.

"Strange place to find you," he said.

Death did not answer immediately, she simply looked at him, studied him, as if she were seeing something in him that she hadn’t seen before. Her smile remained in place, but there was something behind it.

Arthur stopped a few feet away.

The silence stretched.

He could feel it, the weight of her presence, Death of the Endless did not appear casually unless it is in front of his home back in Gotham, she did not stand in the fading light of a Greek sunset and smile without reason.

Something was wrong and Arthur knew it.

His voice softened. "What’s wrong, Didi?" He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "Is something the matter?"

Death’s smile flickered.

For just a moment, the mask slipped. Her composure, that eternal, unshakeable calm that had carried her through the deaths of gods, stars and the births of galaxies cracked. Her eyes glistened, her lips pressed together, just slightly, as if holding something back.

Then the smile returned.

But it was different now, smaller and more fragile.

"My brother," she said softly. "Destruction."

Arthur’s breath caught.

"I felt him," Death continued. "I just guided his... end."

Raven moved to stand beside Arthur, her hand finding his. She said nothing, but her presence was a comfort.

Arthur’s voice was barely a whisper. "Destruction of the Endless is dead?"

Death nodded.

"He was in away already dead... he had removed himself from everything, from his role. From his family, from creation itself. He had found a quiet place for himself to live his days." Her voice caught. "He just wanted to be left alone."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "What happened?"

Death looked at him her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made the shadows around them seem to pulse.

"That person came for him," she said. "Someone who wanted what he had, his concept. His power and his abandoned role." She paused."The Dragon Monarch did."

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