Never let anybody push you around.
Empress Jamyl Sarum glided effortlessly across the marble floor of the cavernous palatial corridor. Her clothing was of a nearly sheer material, speckled with reflective dust, form fitting in the right areas, wistfully flowing in others. She was young and beautiful, her unblemished skin radiating a golden aura. Her thick dark hair had the shine of good health. She was truly a magnificent creature. The marble floor and columns that lined this corridor were polished to mirror reflection, and seemed to absorb the warm light she emanated, even casting aside the shadows of the high arching ceiling far above.
Bodyguards and attendants remained out of sight, but within a distance to act should the need arise; not everyone valued the Empress as they did. They were invisible to her, a mere formality, as she considered herself more than capable of dealing with any potential hostile act against her.
She strode with royal confidence, an air of superiority, but not one of arrogance. She truly believed she was worthy of all respect, worship and adoration from the Empires. The only sound to be heard as she walked was the occasional touch of material against floor, such was her grace and poise. She was a living beacon of hope and truth; the ultimate symbol of beauty and elegance.
A large oak door opened as she neared it, revealing a grand bedchamber. The ceilings were high here as well, though not as lofty as the central corridor, with artistic murals painted on them. They were depictions of Amarrian history, of their various successful conquests and contributions to the galaxy. The bed itself was made of sturdy mahogany, and stood ten feet tall at the four corner posts. It was wide enough to sleep three people, though only one person lay upon its comfortable mattress now.
He was wrapped in a warm duvet, his frame resting on thousand count Amarr cotton sheets. Four pillows supported his head and neck, made from the hairs of Amarr’s finest maidens. He breathed steady, strong breaths, a good indication of his recovery.
She approached the bedside, looking down at the man before her, then turning her attention to the various monitors and life support apparatus he was attached to. The regular ping of his heart monitor let her know he was indeed healing well, and she had gone to every length to ensure so. Beyond the best doctors and medicines, she had employed the services of her greatest mystics and healers to aid in his journey back to good health.
She leaned towards him, inches from his unconscious form, breathing him in deeply, his face glowing in the light that was her. She could smell his power, his tenacity. She knew he would make a powerful ally once she had broken his significant will.
As a testament to her appraisal of him, he stirred to consciousness, not making a sound as he surveyed his surroundings with his eyes. His head didn’t turn, nor did his body move, but his piercing eyes took in everything. He swallowed once before speaking.
“I can’t move.” He said.
She placed her hand gently upon his forehead, caressing him tenderly, quietly shushing him as a mother would an ill child. “You were all but dead when we found you. You will regain the use of your body in time.” Her voice was melodic and mesmerizing, it was no wonder so many swooned under her power. Already, her guest found himself feeling the tug of her at his heart, his want for her, his desire to please her, to consume her. His heart rate quickened, and noticing this on the monitor, she smiled.
Her perfect lips parted only slightly, revealing straight white teeth. There was a slight moisture to her full lips, making them even more appetizing. He hungered for her already.
“Where am I?” He asked, his voice weak and scratchy.
They had found him aboard his ship not too long ago, his crew dead, as he should’ve been. It was a testament to his strength of will that he had survived the ordeal. For reasons unknown even to her at the time, she felt that instead of destroying what remained of his ship that she should save this man, that he would be a catalyst in her efforts to unite the Empires under her rule.
“You are safe. You are in my palace, the heart of the Amarr Empire. My name is Jamyl.” She let her arms falls naturally to the sides of her body, her palms faced outwards in a gesture of welcome and non-aggression. Just the same, he reacted, his heart rate spiking.
“You bitch from the underbelly of the ninth hell. I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than even to have the memory of ever looking upon your wretchedness.” He screamed hoarsely.
Jamyl changed then, though it could not be seen by any other. The light that radiated from her was extinguished. Her skin turned from gold to black flame, enlarging her form as if she were a living shadow. She devoured all light from the room, plunging it into darkness and spiritual despair. Her eyes smoldered orange flame, and when she spoke next, venom dripped from her mouth, burning holes into the floor where it fell.
“You ungrateful cur! You dare to speak to me in such a tone?!” She hissed. “If it were not for me you would not exist at all. If it were not for me, you would have no use to this universe. I alone have chosen you. I alone have spared you. I AM YOUR GOD!“
The man in the bed shrank away from her, his eyes wide with shock. His heart rate continued to elevate, but no longer from desire; now it was from distress. She raised her arms high to her sides, continuing to devour life itself from the room, cackling a malevolent laugh that sent chills through the spine.
“It is at MY whim that you live. It can be at my whim that you die. Choose your next words wisely, fool, as they may very well be your last.” Her voice echoed and reverberated throughout the room, casting dread upon it.
Without reason or warning, she shrank back into herself, the dark flames subsiding, her eyes return to their normal radiance. Her skin once more glowed its golden hue, and she fell to one knee, her gentle hand propped up against her forehead.
She grunted in pain only once, then stood regally, smiling warmly down at the man in the bed.
His eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of all that occured within the last few moments. She seemed to not notice the silence, patiently waiting for him to take the intiative and speak.
Finally, he did. “Milady, my life is forfeit, save for serving you. I am your humble servant. What is thy will?”
She lay her hand across his forehead once more, consoling him. “Just rest, my brave warrior. I will need you whole to fulfill your destiny.”
She turned to leave, walking a few paces before stopping, looking around for something that could not be seen. She paused a moment, inhaling, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, they were smoldering flame, and she looked straight at the presence she had detected. She knew it was there; she could see right through it. An evil smile curled at her lips, and she pushed her will against the unwelcome trespasser.
Gigaer awoke in a sweat, immediately entering a meditative trance. The meditation was both to calm himself as well as to retain with crystal clarity every detail of the vision he had just experienced.
After a few moments of inward contemplation, he was satisfied that he had remembered everything, and began committing the dream to his journal.
He wrote of the Empress. He wrote of the location. He wrote of the man in the bed, what was his name? He struggled with his memory, pushing aside the various puzzle pieces until he saw the single answer he sought, mentally plucking at it, bringing it to the forefront of his mind.
Ah yes, there it was. He wrote the name down, unclear of the meaning of any of this.
Jamyl Sarum had rescued a man for some unknown purpose; a man by the name of Mako.