Chapter Text
The priests teach us that the Goddess, Eternia, is a wellspring of love, prosperity, and good stewardship. They speak of a divine plan, of a gentle hand guiding the fate of our world.
I confess, my faith is a ruin. I stand on shaky ground, for who am I to argue against the existence of magic? It is the one force that defies our science, and the ancient texts all claim it was Her gift. I am old enough to remember a time before the Dark Times, before the coming of Skeletor and the arrival of He-Man. In those days, we saw small miracles. A blight on a crop that vanished overnight. A child’s fever that broke at dawn after a night of prayer. Magic was a gentle rain that nurtured the land. Now, it is a tidal wave of blood and power that drowns us all.
Even so, I am a creature of tradition. I still attend services on most Eternaldays, sitting in a back pew like a ghost in my own life. I keep a copy of the Goddess’s Tome of the Divine in my study. I can feel the weight of it in my hands, and I remember a time when its words were a comfort. Now they are just ink on dried leather.
I used to pray. I prayed for wisdom, for guidance, for the safety of my family. I stopped praying the day He-Man murdered my wife and son in a brutish display of strength, a tantrum of power that accomplished nothing save for the death of innocents caught in the crossfire. In my moment of greatest need, the divine was silent.
The Tome says, “The rains cometh and they goeth, for no woman shall be without. Let not thy troubles last, for the sun cometh in the dawn.”
I read those words now, and I look out my window at a kingdom drowning in its own filth. The promise of dawn feels like the cruelest jest of all. For we are still in the night, and it is storming outside.
—The Goddess, Eternia, essay from Kraton the Oracle
“Yes, right there,” moaned Prince Adam, lying naked in his bed. A young maiden, also nude, lay below him, her head bobbing between his legs. Another woman, her large breasts covering half his body, tried dominating his mouth with hers. He groaned in ecstasy.
The door burst open. The women uttered a short scream as a woman in regal green clothes and a gold circlet stormed in, her face a stark crimson. She threw open the curtains, flooding the room with morning sun.
Adam lay back, not bothering to cover himself. He clasped his hands behind his head and frowned at the ceiling.
“Bitches, get out!” the woman yelled. “Consider yourselves sacked.”
The maidens dashed for the door without their clothes. “Y-yes, Your Majesty.”
“Mother, you could have knocked,” said Adam. “You didn’t have to fire them. I was beginning to like those girls.”
“What have I told you about fucking the servants?” she roared.
He shrugged. “That it embarrasses you, you don’t like it, think of the royal seed, blah, blah, blah—”
His mother, Queen Marlena, growled. With surprising speed, she belted him across the face, the sharp crack of flesh echoing through the chamber. “Stupid ox! You’re only interested in your own self-gratification while people are calling for our blood. If you want to fuck all day like the lazy wretch you are, get married. A union with House Yandon will help quell the discontent in the Great Circle.”
“Yandon’s girls have bad breath. I can smell them a mile away.”
“Get up and get dressed.”
“Why? I’m tired. I want to sleep in.” He rolled onto his stomach and jerked a thumb at his back. “Give me a massage like you used to.”
“You cannot be this stupid. I said, get dressed. We are going to services.”
“No. I don’t want to. I don’t believe in that stuffy religion with its ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ shit. You and Fa—ow!”
Marlena was on top of him, planting a knee in the small of his back and putting all her weight into it as she grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked hard. “You may give that attitude to your father, but I am the one person you will not want to fuck with.”
“Too late. I dream about—ow! Stop it!”
Marlena leaned in close, her breath hot on his face. “Do you remember Corlinna, Adam?”
“Who?”
“Of course you wouldn’t remember. I bet you don’t even know the names of those two whores you were just with.”
“I do. They are… Reginna and Mary… I think.”
“Wrong on both counts. Corlinna is the latest bitch you knocked up. I am tired of cleaning up these … indiscretions.”
“So what? Did you exile her to the countryside like you do with the others?”
“Not everyone wishes to enjoy a life of quiet solitude. Some threaten to go to the priests, the nobles, anyone who will listen. Let’s just say when some little cunt threatens me, I threaten back … harder.”
“What does that have to do with me? Why should I care?”
“Because if you don’t start showing some responsibility and keeping that cock of yours in your pants, I will see to it that you live out your days in the Northern Waste Garrison. There you’ll discover suckling cock, because there will be no women for miles, and I will ensure the men there all take turns on your ass. You will return to Eternos when your father is ready to abdicate, but until then, that’s where you will live if I am forced to slit the belly of another bitch. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you do.” She tightened her grip on his hair.
He squealed, his eyes watering from the pain. “I said yes! Stop hurting me, Mother!”
She slammed his head into the pillow. “Then get up and get dressed. We have to ride horses down the Boulevard of the Goddess. You still know how to ride, do you?”
“Yes!” shouted Adam, barely containing his rage.
Queen Marlena went to his wardrobe and threw it open. She removed two outfits, comparing them. “Hmm … let’s go with a military uniform today.” She cast her eyes down. “Oh, look, Adam. Someone left you a gift.”
Adam turned. Inside was a large hat box tied with a bow and gold ribbon. “Let me see. Bring it here.”
“No, open it when you’re ready. For now, get dressed. You will wear military colors today.” She started for the exit. “Mark my words, boy. The Northern Waste Garrison.” His mother left, slamming the door behind her.
Adam jumped out of bed. Who could have left me a gift? Probably Teela. She is older than me and probably wants to get in my bed, but the idea of lying with a woman five years my senior doesn’t appeal to me.
He grabbed the box; the gift inside was heavy. He yanked the ribbon off, lifted the lid, and immediately dropped it.
Now he remembered Corlinna, for her head rolled across the floor.
Adam glowered atop his horse in the courtyard of the palace.
“What vexes you, son?” asked King Randor, beaming a wide smile on this morning Eternalday.
“Nothing,” Adam hissed, his glare on the great doors ahead. The cavalcade was not moving. On the other side were angry crowds. He could hear the jeers, the shouts, occasionally making out the words, “Starving!” “We have nothing!” “Taxes kill us!”
Marlena turned on her horse, met her son’s eyes, and offered a brief, knowing smile. “He’s probably thinking about girls, my dear husband. You know how young men are these days.”
“Ah, yes. I was a young buck myself. Who has his favor? One of Yandon’s girls? Goddess, they are ugly and their breaths stink. Can smell them a mile away.”
Duncan, flanking King Randor’s other side, said, “You are correct, Your Majesty.”
Marlena said, “I’m sure our son values what is inside that counts, not superficial appearances. After all, we wouldn’t want him to lose his head over it.”
Randor chuckled. “Yes, Marlena, my queen. You always have honeyed words to quell our son’s indecision. Help him choose one of the Yandon girls.” He snapped his fingers. “I know. We’ll make the announcement at the coming Grandest Feast of Them All. What better way to cap the celebration than with an engagement.”
“Splendid idea, Your Majesty,” said Duncan.
“Thank you! Ah, here comes your lovely daughter.”
Teela, the Captain of the Guard, rode her horse toward the royal family. She wore a sleeveless armored corset and a short armored skirt, split at her thighs. A gold-plated sword was tucked in her belt, and she carried a long staff shaped like a cobra. She offered a curt bow to Randor. “Your Majesty, the crowd outside is feisty. I would recommend forgoing services today.”
“Nonsense,” said Randor. “Proceed. Open the gates.”
“But, Your Majesty, these people are angry. They are starving. It will be hard to protect you should … trouble arise.”
“What? Why would they be starving? This is Eternia, the most prosperous realm. Disperse the crowd and tell them to be in services, lest their souls be damned to the Black Hell. This I command.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but as your Captain—”
“That will be all. Open the gates,” Randor interrupted, no longer looking at Teela.
“Teela,” Duncan uttered, his tone brooking no argument.
She cast a quick glance at Randor and nodded. “As you wish, Your Majesty. Open the gates!”
Teela shouted, “Foot soldiers, form lines, lances out! Activate repulsors. Forward march!” She raised her staff, its head glowing as a ball of lightning burst in the air above the street. The crowd roared at the display, but they were not dissuaded as the procession moved forward.
Adam felt a pang of fear. He had never seen so many reddened faces before, shaking their fists, shouting curses. That fear turned to heat rising in his chest. These people are supposed to love me. If they are starving, that is my father’s fault, not mine! Why am I being subjected to this hate?
His father glowered. “I ordered this crowd to disperse.”
“It will be done as soon as we reach the cathedral, Your Majesty,” said Duncan. “Let Teela get us there so her men are freed up to get rid of these vermin.”
The gates to the royal palace closed with a heavy clang, and Adam felt naked, exposed. The crowd here was too thick.
“Can’t we make this damn train go any faster?” the prince demanded.
“No,” said Randor. “We must be as the Goddess says—to approach with humility. I will take my time. This rabble will get tired and quiet itself down.”
Adam scoffed and turned his eyes to his mother’s back. She tensed, but then he saw it: the tip of a blade tucked in her right sleeve, resting against her fingers. At least she has the sense to prepare for violence.
The crowd grew louder and thicker as the royal procession officially entered the Boulevard of the Goddess. Hundreds of peasants gathered along its sides, waving long poles with nooses strung on their ends.
A pit formed in Adam’s stomach. He turned to his father, but a sudden pain struck the side of his face. The smell of shit filled the air. The world spun and he lost his balance, falling from his horse not onto the hard cobblestone, but into a pile of fresh dung.
“Adam!” shouted Marlena.
“My prince!” called Teela.
The crowd’s jeers switched to raucous laughter as they pointed at their prince, half-buried in offal.
Randor cursed and roared, “Get these bastards away from us. NOW!”
Foot soldiers charged the sides, using the butts of their rifles on the nearest faces. A melee broke out, peasants using crude staffs and dirks, wrestling guards for their weapons.
Strong hands lifted Adam from the muck and carried him into the closest building.
Inside an empty tavern, Randor screamed, “This is an outrage. They harmed my son!”
“Shut up, Randor,” Marlena said, her blade now dripping crimson. “This isn’t the time.” She pointed. “Out the back. We’ll go first and take the alley back to the palace. Adam follows. Teela!”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
Marlena pointed outside and hissed in a low voice, “Crush that.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” Teela stormed out, raised her staff, and shot lightning into the air.
Marlena said to her guards, “Form our protection. Duncan, you have Adam?”
“Yes,” said Duncan.
Adam shook his head, his senses snapping into focus. He remembered the laughter, the pointing fingers, the laughter, the pointing—he screamed.
Randor and his entourage left through the back with Marlena leading the way, leaving Adam and Duncan alone.
“How dare they do this to me!” Adam screamed, examining his shit-covered hands. “I am the Prince of Eternia! They are supposed to love me! Love me, dammit!”
Duncan cast his eyes outside, unable to see his daughter in the fray. Rifle blasts cracked in the street, but he spotted no one wielding them.
He turned back to Adam as the prince gritted his teeth. “We need to go.”
“No,” Adam seethed, the word a low growl from deep in his chest. “I’m going to end this humiliation.”
He drew the Sword of Power, ripping it from its scabbard with a furious grunt, the metal screaming as he thrust it toward the tavern’s grimy ceiling.
“By the power of Grayskull!” he cried in a shriek of pure, unadulterated rage. The air in the room crackled, then tore. A bolt of raw, white-hot energy, thick as a man’s torso, ripped through the roof as if it were parchment, slamming down into the raised sword.
Duncan, shielding his eyes, could still see the silhouette of the prince. Adam’s body went rigid, his back arching in an impossible, agonizing bow as the power of the Spirit surged into him. His scream of rage was drowned out by a sound of pure torment, the sound of sinew stretching, bones thickening and reshaping themselves with audible cracks, and flesh burning away to be replaced by something … more. The light was searing white, and it carried with it the smell of ozone and cooked meat.
Then, the light imploded, sucking the air from the room with a deafening whump.
Where the slight, hate-filled prince had stood, a giant now loomed, wreathed in smoke and the after-image of lightning. He-Man. His skin was taut over mountains of new muscle, his jaw a granite block of fury, and his eyes were the cold, dead points of light of a demigod looking for something to break.
“I,” he growled, his voice now a subterranean rumble of thunder, “HAVE THE POWER!”
In the next moment, He-Man exploded through the tavern wall. He swung his sword at the closest foe, cleaving a body in two. He moved with incredible speed, still raw in his rage, and threw a horse at the crowd.
The starving people charged, but he met them with glee, slicing them down from head to groin as if they were paper. With his free hand, he wrapped it around a man’s skull and crushed it like rotten fruit, the sound of bone popping with a flesh-chilling crunch.
By the time the crowd realized their cause was lost, dozens of men, women, and children lay in pieces, hacked apart by their demigod champion, their Protector of Eternia. Many tried to flee, but He-Man chased them down one by one, accepting no surrender and granting no quarter. Blood drenched the Boulevard of the Goddess, many of its buildings decorated with the life of many victims. He-Man stood heaving at its end, the gates of the cathedral before him. There, he spotted the grand statue of the Goddess, a gold-painted stone statue that towered over sixty feet. It seemed to stare down, judging him.
He hated those eyes.
He-Man ripped the gates apart and entered the cathedral’s courtyard. Lay priests watched from the edges but fled upon his entrance, wanting no part of the crimson-covered hulk who left a trail of ichor with each bloody footstep. He sheathed his sword and, with a snarl, grabbed the base of the Goddess’ statue. He grunted, his strength building and building.
At first it rocked, then swayed, and with a final roar, it fell, crashing into the courtyard and exploding into a mass of rubble.
Satisfied, He-Man turned to leave but grimaced. The Goddess’s stone eyes remained intact, and they stared at him … judging him.
“You’re nothing but an illusion,” he snarled, “and I’m no slave to it.” He left.
The End of He-Man: Devouring Sun 1: Slave to an Illusion