Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy) - Chapter 122: Chapter 122

Wheeler's wand had been seized before his father's men dragged him into the palace, the horrified sea of rebels watching in silence. They informed him later that the remnants of his army had been rounded up on the palace grounds, trapped by a magical barrier until the emperor decided what to do with them. As long as Wheeler complied, they would at least get to live.
The servants bathed him, forcing Wheeler into the princely garments he'd donned prior to his escape. Once he'd been cleaned up to the Grand Emperor's liking, they wrapped him in chains, escorting him to the center of his father's underground chamber.
The black liquid held within countless golden bowls stired as his father slowly circled the room. "I just don't understand," the emperor said softly, "I gave you so much. I offered you infinite power. I loved you with all my heart...and yet...you still betrayed me."
"I had to protect the people of this empire," Wheeler said, his voice tight. "The very people you betrayed when you put your own power above their lives."
The emperor sighed heavily. "Why are you being so stubborn? I know all children have a rebellious phase, but aren't you a little old for this--"
"A rebellious phase?" Wheeler snapped, blood boiling. "My friends are dead and you're acting like I threw away their lives to have a temper tantrum."
His father's expression remained blank. "Didn't you?"
"HOW DARE YOU!" Wheeler screamed, tears brimming his eyes. "How dare you treat this like it's some pointless game. All you've ever cared about is yourself! You slaughtered and butchered your subjects, you threw away your sons, you chose power over human lives over and over again! And now that the empire discovered who you really are and finally fought back, you have the fucking nerve to see it as your stupid son's childish attempt to get back at you!" He'd begun to weep now, the words burning as they left his lips. "WELL UNLIKE YOU, FATHER, THEIR LIVES WERE NEVER MY PAWNS, YOU SELFISH, DISGUSTING, NARCISSISTIC PIECE OF SHIT!"
The emperor stared at him in stunned silence.
Finally he let out a low exhale. "I had no idea I'd made you this angry."
Wheeler barely managed to hold back a burst of wild, hysteric laughter at the words, his blood growing hotter and hotter, the burn of magic pusling through his veins.
"Stop acting like it's just me," Wheeler snarled through his tears. "This isn't a petty argument between the two of us. The entire empire is angry! Why is that so hard for you to understand?!"
Because his father willingly blinded himself to the truth.
At last, Wheeler fully understood. His father threw away lives because he saw them as inferior to his own. Clinging to this reality was the only way he could live with his actions. No matter what Wheeler said and no matter how hard he tried, his father would continue to lie to himself and do whatever it took to continue this delusion. There was no use pulling back a curtain to someone who refused to see. Wheeler was powerless to change that— to change him. The thought sent another pulse of furious magic through his veins, crackling down his neck all the way to the tips of his fingers.
"So," Wheeler spat, "I assume you're going to destroy my mind just like my mother."
"If it has to come to that," the emperor said, voice low. "But...Wheeler, I still have hope that you'll willingly remain by my side."
"After everything I've been through," Wheeler rasped, his magic sending electric shocks through his bloodstream, practically begging to burst free, "why would you think I'd ever do that?"
"Because," the emperor said, "in the end, you're still exactly like me."
"Are you fucking serious?" Wheeler screamed, hot, angry tears burning his eyes. "You and I are nothing alike."
The emperor shook his head. "Come now, Wheeler, think about it. Like me and my followers, you convinced the rebels to give up their lives to serve your wishes."
"We were fighting to save the lives of our countrymen."
"Were you? Do you know how many lives your idealism cost? Lives that would have been spared if you'd just given up on your quest for power."
"Power?" Wheeler repeated in disbelief.
"Of course. No matter how desperately you claim this was all for the empire, your army was still fighting to put you on the throne." The Grand Emperor smirked. "We both know that to be emperor is to be the most powerful of all. Even I can't blame you for wanting such a thing."
"YOU REALLY THINK I WANTED THIS?!" Wheeler sobbed. His magic felt like it was going to explode, pounding from behind his skull, threatening to burst from his ribcage. "Well I don't. I don't want to be emperor. I don't want power. I want..."
What he wanted was so simple.
A cottage. A garden. To wake up next to Mulock every morning for the rest of his life.
And of course...he could never have any of it.
Everything was building in his chest, the anger, the magic, the frustration, the self -loathing, growing higher and higher like a tsunami about to break.
Maybe his father was right.
People were dead because he started a battle for his own idealism. Had doing so been his own way of sacrificing their lives for himself? Had Wheeler simply blinded himself to the truth—just like his father?
And then their faces flashed through his mind; the Packwoods seeing their broken son, the hope in the people of the Icy Mountains, the passion of every person who'd fought beside him.
That's right...beside him. Not below him.
They were all his equals. How selfish was he to think that he had power over these people? That his commands alone had led them down this path. They chose to walk together, side by side. He may have set the spark, but he alone hadn't decided to fight, the people of the empire had.
He couldn't let them down, not when they were so close.
The overwhelming burst of angry magic calmed, still simmering beneath his skin. He didn't have his wand, but maybe...just maybe...
Wheeler let out a low exhale, using every ounce of control he had to try and channel the wild magic into a single spell. He knew what he had to do...no matter how terrified he was to do it. It was the only way.
"Father," Wheeler said softly, "I'm sorry."
The Grand Emperor paused, eyes widening. "So you've finally realize it was a mistake to run away--"
"No," Wheeler interrupted, gaze burning into his father's. "I'm sorry you chose to walk such a cruel and lonely path. But in the end, the choice to walk it was still yours alone." He took a deep breath. "Goodbye, Father."
Confusion flooded the emperor's expression. "Wheeler, what are you--"
Wheeler's eyes fluttered shut. "Inˈfərnō."
The moment the spell left his mouth, the chamber, along with his father, exploded.
***
Priscilla's eyes widened in shock as the magical barrier surrounding the rebels began to fade, sounds of surprise rippling through the crowd around her.
"Wait..." Priscilla gasped, turning to Mulock. "You don't think Wheeler somehow managed to..."
"The Grand Emperor is dead," Mulock said, something unreadable coming over his expression.
"What?" Priscilla gasped. "How do you know?"
"Because Wheeler is finally the most powerful mage in the world."
"I don't understand what you're--" Priscilla froze, her heart jumping into her throat. "Mulock, your hands!"
Mulock's gaze flickered downwards, his expression unwavering despite the fact that his fingers appeared to be vanishing into thin air.
"We need to find you a doctor," Priscilla stammered, her gaze frantically scanning across the grounds.
"Priscilla," Mulock said softly, "it's alright. This just means I've finally granted his wish." He offered her a gentle smile, parts of his cheeks and throat fading at a startling pace. "But I'm afraid that also means this is goodbye."
Tears brimmed Priscilla's eyes. "I don't understand," she choked. "What do I have to do to save you? Just tell me and I'll do it. I'll do anything. Please...there must be a way--"
"Priscilla," Mulock murmured, that serene smile still resting on his lips as he continued to fade into nothingness. "You know I hate to get mushy but," he reached out, pulling her into a tight hug. The action was so unlike Mulock that Priscilla tensed for a moment before melting into the embrace. She held him tightly, even as she felt his body vanishing in her arms. "Despite our constant arguments," Mulock murmured, "I want you to know that I've always adored you."
"You asshole," Priscilla wept against him.
He smirked. "Brat."
"Jerk."
"Dunce."
"Dweeb."
Mulock let out a low chuckle as the two tightly clung to each other. "Thank you Priscilla," he whispered softly, "for being my friend. It meant the world to me."
And then he was gone.