There was one form of magic the tyrant had not mastered: death magic. And so the young actor who had seen his own mother and father tortured to death before his eyes had to master it. He forged his own death into a sword tempered in a child’s blood and hid it in an infinite labyrinth at the universe’s edge. Now he had mastered death and could command it. But his friends now looked upon him with fear and the one he loved shrank from his touch. When he slew the tyrant and all those who served him he saw that his people feared him far more. (I should have destroyed that world but I was weak then.)

And so he left to search for a world where he would be at home. Thus I became the first King of the Charnel World in a thousand years and took the name Khaos! (There were those who mocked me for my sense of drama. They are dead now, some by my own hand.) There are times when I mourn the loss of the man I was. But I look upon my enemies tortured forever, denied even the peace of death and I am content.