Heir to Paragon
by Charles Ta
Content Warnings: Blood, War, Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Mentions of Mass Murder
RASHID, FRENCH OCCUPIED EGYPT – JULY, 1799
To: General Jacques-Francois Menou
From: Lieutenant Pierre-Francois Bouchard,
Army of the Orient (Translated from French):
To My Most Highly Respected General,
I have the honor of reporting a most curious and momentous discovery on the banks of the Nile Delta. Yesterday morning at about nine o’clock, while on patrol around Fort Julien, my officers were ambushed by a horde of armored Mamluks on horseback wielding abilities that could only be described as supernatural.
We barely won the ensuing battle thanks to the quick thinking of Colonel d’Hautpoul, who ordered us to hide inside the fort for cover. Indeed, it took several musket and cannon shots for us to thoroughly compel our enemies to retreat, and we incurred casualties so enormous we were almost forced to surrender.
By the time hostilities ended, I had lost nearly my entire platoon to all sorts of curses. Some men were burned to ashes by fire, and others were turned to stone. Most of them vanished beneath the sands of Egypt without a trace. The fort itself was also greatly damaged, with its exterior being reduced to mere rubble.
At some point while assessing the carnage, my remaining officers, the Colonel, and I recovered and looted the body of one of the Mamluk commanders we’d slaughtered. We found among his possessions a collection of artifacts of unknown make.
One such artifact that piqued my interest was a dark red stone sealed within a glass container engraved with various hieroglyphs and letters—which was small enough to fit in my hands. Curious, I ordered a savant among those accompanying us on our expedition to inspect the gem, as well as the other artifacts previously mentioned.
When the savant came back to me later from his study, he was ecstatic beyond all reason, praising the Lord our God, and our Supreme Commander Napoleon with fervor I’d never seen from him.
In his hands were the red stone and a collection of round musket shells made not of metal, but soft, glittering gold. From his pocket he further revealed a leather-bound journal written in Arabic, Greek, and Latin from his library, and flipped the pages to an image of the jewel surrounded by occult geometric symbols.
Upon viewing the image and the stone, my face went pallid, and the Colonel’s look was one of utter disbelief. I recalled Berthollet’s theories on chemistry and my studies of Nicolas Flamel, Zosimos of Panopolis, Paracelsus, and other ancient alchemists. It was here that I realized we had unearthed the fabled elixir of life.
The philosopher’s stone.
The key to immortality, magic, and turning metals into gold.
The legendary crystal sought after by countless magicians and thinkers for centuries, and finally perfected.
Without hesitation, I bid the savant to hand me the stone, his book, and his transmuted metals for safekeeping. Afterwards, I retreated to my camp quarters, where I am now writing this letter for you to read at the earliest available opportunity.
It is hard to believe what I have just stated plainly, and I do not expect you to take my word so easily. But the truth about what the Colonel and I discovered is beyond reproach. You will see that this is the case with a fragment of the philosopher’s stone that I have sent to you alongside this letter. Test it on any metal and there your proof will be.
I strongly urge you to contact the Egyptian Scientific Institute and the Supreme Commander immediately to discuss the implications of our finding. Napoleon may well use this newfound knowledge to the benefit of our revolutionary cause.
History has been forever changed from this day forward, General. The burgeoning Scientific Enlightenment has clashed against the revival of alchemy and magic—things of the world that learned men of this era have attempted to discredit with empirical inquiry, only for their theories to come undone by a mere mystical rock.
We as the Army of the Orient must seize the moment before it is too late. The land of Egypt must never leave our grasp and return to Ottoman control—for only our Father above knows what other secrets its deserts may hold for us.
I await your reply within the next several days in assurance of our imperial victory. Long live Napoleon! Long live the Revolution! Long live France: our new empire eternal!
QUEBEC CITY, CANADA, BRITISH IMPERIAL REMNANT – JANUARY, 1842
“Steady, like we practiced!” Colonel Ingeborg von Krieger demanded, standing at the edge of a large battle arena where she watched her pupil train against moving targets. “Neither Napoleon’s state alchemists nor his Homunculi will show you any mercy. One slip-up could mean certain death, Lucy.”
Lucianne nodded. Assuming an attack stance, she surveyed the area, took a deep breath, and let herself channel transmuted flames from her own body heat through her gauntlets’ impure philosopher’s stones.
Moments later, she blasted her targets with quick bursts of fire. They were soon replaced, however, by targets wielding water cannons.
“Assume your enemy knows your weaknesses!” the Colonel advised. “Never let your guard down!”
The targets shot at Lucianne from all directions, but with a shout in ancient tongue, she summoned a blazing dome. Water met fire, creating a fog that filled the arena.
Breathless, Lucianne stood in the middle of the haze searching for opponents. Sweat trickled down her forehead.
The arena was silent.
A shower of icicles from Lucianne’s left caught her off guard. They pinned her to the ground, forming rings around her hands, feet, and mouth.
She tried to cast fire, but couldn’t feel her limbs.
From the shadows, the Colonel ambushed Lucianne with an ice sword. Wincing, Lucianne readied for the blade to slice her neck.
Instead, the Colonel melted away her ice shackles, and dispersed the fog. Lucianne gasped, struggling back to her feet.
“I said never let your guard down,” Colonel Krieger scolded. “If this was a real battle, you’d already be dead. Remember the Fall of Europe, Lucy—then Arabia, Africa, Russia, America, and Mexico in their wake. Remember your parents’ sacrifice.”
Lucianne did remember—too well.
Her father had been a General who staged a coup to overthrow Emperor Napoleon ten years ago. The coup failed, however, when Napoleon’s Homunculi foresaw it, leading his alchemists to massacre thousands of rebels, and Napoleon himself to consume their souls.
That left Lucianne an orphan and she fled to British Canada for refuge.
She was only thirteen.
“I understand,” Lucianne said.
The Colonel smiled.
“That being said, your form and fighting skills have improved significantly. But you still have much to learn before you can join the Knights of Paragon.”
Lucianne beamed. She’d come a long way since enrolling at the Royal Alchemical Academy at the age of sixteen, by which point mainland Britain had long fallen to Napoleon’s Empire during the ongoing Sorcerer Wars.
Now the Knights of Paragon were the only thing standing between His Majesty and the world’s remaining unconquered territories.
To the west stood Britain’s and Spain’s last overseas colonies. To the east, China, East Russia, India, Australia, and Japan all held the line. Altogether they formed the Seventeenth Coalition against France, after the previous sixteen had failed.
All empires had to fall someday, she thought.
They always did.
Suddenly, the doors to the Academy’s fighting arena swung open, and an alchemist-soldier in full dress hurried towards the Colonel.
“Colonel,” he saluted. “An urgent matter requires your attention.”
“What is it, Captain?” she asked.
“The Franco-American Confederation has breached our defenses at the Niagara Walls. French airships have been spotted bombing Loyalist cities. Estimated casualties are fifty thousand minimum.”
The sound of cannons firing reverberated in the distance, meaning Napoleon’s Army was close by. The Colonel cursed under her breath. Quebec’s Capital was in danger.
“Tell our soldiers to regroup here. I’ll join them.”
“I’m coming too,” Lucianne interrupted, staring at the Colonel. “You’ll need all the help you can get defending Quebec City. I can handle it.”
The Colonel hesitated, but eventually relented. She was short on personnel—and Lucianne was no beginner.
She locked eyes with her apprentice.
“Alright, Lucy. You may join me, but only if you do as I say. Don’t do anything rash. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lucianne replied, following the Colonel and Captain outside the Academy to prepare for battle.
LOUISIANA ANNEXATION – NOVEMBER, 1848
From the Journal of Lucianne,
Knight of Paragon:
Thundering flame. Shattered earth. Blistering wind. Rushing waves. The Sorcerer Wars have dragged on for decades, but finally appear to be concluding.
Last week, my Royal Alchemists crushed three armies of Homunculi and chimeras spread out across the Louisiana Territory, forcing them to surrender. The Homuncular Revolution, meanwhile, continues to rage in the Franco-American Confederation.
There is also shocking news from the homeland:
Excess alchemy has depleted the world’s life force, and destroyed the gold economy, leading to poverty, famine, and civil unrest.
Violent riots have erupted all across Napoleon’s Europe, and there are rumors that even his own Homunculi have grown weary of being treated like slaves. To be bred for war only to be discarded is a horrible fate. No wonder so many despise their creators.
These developments have forced Emperor Napoleon to recall troops from British soil to deal with the internal chaos, allowing the Knights of Paragon to corner his Grand Army along England’s southern coastline.
London is finally free from French control.
Still, the War is far from over. Shapeshifting spies from Paris have informed me that Napoleon has grown more inhuman with each soul he has devoured. The more souls he reaps from the masses, the more insatiable his hunger for immortality.
Even on the cusp of godhood Napoleon fears death and powerlessness. Rumors abound that he’s now on a quest to find the World Soul. Should he succeed, he may gain dominion over all life, and become God.
If the Colonel were here, she'd recoil at the madness this War has wrought, but feel proud seeing how much I’ve grown. I still miss her after she sacrificed her life saving my own in the Battle of Quebec City.
Now I’m a Knight of Paragon myself. A master of flame and starlight. And being so, I pray I will see this War through to the bitter end. No matter the cost.
TWILIGHT OF THE EMPEROR – PARIS – SEPTEMBER, 1859
Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte was as hideous as he was wretched when I saw him in the flesh—or rather the marrow and bone. He was an emaciated, skeletal thing: diseased and rotting beneath his robes, much like his decrepit Imperial Palace.
Getting inside was the easy part. Most of his Homunculi had long abandoned him, and instead joined the Seventeenth Coalition against his tyranny. Only a few fanatical alchemists remained fighting in the smoldering ruins of Paris, but they were no match for the Coalition’s overwhelming numbers.
I readied my gauntlets, soaking in the power of the morning Sun as I crept into Napoleon’s throne room.
Upon entering, I was greeted by a foul stench, and the grim sight of bloody, disemboweled cadavers everywhere. The sound of teeth tearing into flesh turned my attention towards one corner of the room.
There, a shadowy mass lay hunched over a corpse, gathering its life force.
Holding my breath, I stepped closer.
The black mass sensed me, stood up, and turned around.
Aghast, I beheld the creature that was Napoleon Bonaparte in all his depravity. His mouth dripped with luminous blood from the headless corpse of his wife, Empress Josephine—who twitched beneath him.
Horrified, I realized Napoleon’s pursuit of immortality had transformed him into a grotesque vampire. A lich. A cannibal demon.
“You should not have come,” Napoleon growled. “I have foreseen your demise and my eternal victory. I am invincible. Even if my Empire dies today, I no longer care for it. Not when godhood is within my grasp.”
I shuddered at Napoleon’s philosopher’s stone fused to his chest, which crackled with the energy of countless screaming souls. I felt a pull towards the stone—towards the souls of my parents suffering inside.
They would soon be avenged.
I simmered with flames. Napoleon’s wickedness would end today.
But how could I defeat a demigod like him?
“I won’t let you have the world—not when you’re killing it,” I replied. “You’re nothing without the philosopher’s stone and you know it. It wasn’t yours to begin with. Your officers robbed it from Egypt, and now you think you’re some supreme deity above humans, when you’re neither god nor human. You’re a monster.”
Napoleon sneered. He amassed unholy energy into himself as the ground rumbled and the air thickened.
“Do you wish to die then, witch?” he asked. “I’ll devour your soul like I have so many useless others. And you will serve me forever.”
“Never!” I cried, sending explosive lava plumes his way, which he dodged—vanishing like a ghost, before reappearing behind me.
“So be it, Knight of Paragon,” the Emperor declared.
He tried to envelop me, but I sensed his body heat and ignited the air surrounding us in a teleportation spell, blinding him momentarily.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked, reappearing far from the Emperor in a fire column. “You’ll have to try harder than that to defeat me.”
We circled each other for the next hour, evenly matched. My blades of fire were extinguished by his corpse blades. His undead hordes fell to my ball lightning barrage. We clashed in the air at unfathomable speeds, and struggled against each other’s shapeshifting—his tenebrous eagle-like form against my phoenix avatar.
The Imperial Palace collapsed as our fighting intensified.
Finally, the hour passed, and the Sun reached its highest point.
But Napoleon still stood, and I remained unscathed—out of breath, but unscathed.
Still able to fight. Still keeping up.
“Getting tired are we?” the Emperor taunted.
I shook my head. “Quite the opposite. I’m filled with excitement—at the prospect of defeating—no, annihilating you.”
Napoleon cackled. “Then come closer. I promise to make your death quick. You won’t even feel me consuming your life force.”
I chuckled. “Sounds about right. You’re a little ‘short’ for a Dark Lord.”
The Emperor lunged at me like a wild beast. I cast a lightning field to protect myself, but he assumed a phantomlike form and phased through it unharmed.
Before I could react, he rematerialized and blasted me with a pulse of necromantic energy. I flew backwards into a wall, and hit the ground in agony.
I was paralyzed and mortally wounded.
Conscious, but trapped.
I wanted to scream.
“All too easy,” Napoleon said with a grin, grabbing my limp body by the neck and placing his other hand over my heart to siphon my soul.
His grip on my throat felt like burning poison.
I grew weaker by the second, becoming corpselike.
“Say goodbye, foolish rebel,” Napoleon gloated. “Now you will spend eternity bound to me—a worthy punishment for your treachery. Just like your worthless, ungrateful parents who abandoned you!”
Darkness overcame me as I watched Napoleon pull my soul and memories into his philosopher’s stone.
Then I thought about my late mentor, Colonel Krieger—who trusted me to finish what she’d started. A memory of my Academy days with her soon emerged from the depths of my subconscious.
My mind latched onto a conversation we’d once had:
“You can perform alchemy using the energy that exists in everything,” the Colonel said. “Indeed, all the elements of alchemy exist within us in harmony, reflecting the wider cosmos. Water exists in our tears and blood, air in our breath, and earth in our bones.”
“What about fire?” I asked. “Where does it reside?”
“Ah… Fire,” the Colonel replied.
She pointed at her heart. “Fire is the most primal of all the elements. It shines deep inside you—in your passion and resolve, love and hate. It’s the thing that makes life worth living. The thing that is life itself.”
My eyes widened as I had an epiphany.
“The soul,” I said.
“Precisely.”
“Then that means… It can be manipulated.”
The Colonel nodded. “In theory, though not even the Knights of Paragon have gone that far. It is alchemy’s last taboo. Dangerous and immoral. Only Emperor Napoleon has attempted such an atrocity.”
I returned to reality as my memory faded, knowing now what had to be done. The answer to defeating Napoleon had been in front of me the whole time.
I just hadn’t realized it.
ANIMA MUNDI – TIME AND PLACE UNKNOWN
Against Napoleon’s conjurings I invoked my soul in my mind, and the souls of a million innocents trapped in his philosopher’s stone. I called out to the primal fire—the World Soul that burned inside all beings, and summoned it from within me.
Instantly, I found my consciousness before the World Soul: a woman clothed in flames surrounded by a raging inferno of souls. God herself.
SPEAK, ACOLYTE, she commanded with a billion echoing voices. WHAT BRINGS YOU BEFORE MY REALM?
“I wish for the power to wield souls,” I said. “The Earth is dying, and Napoleon is responsible. I must undo the damage.”
YOU SEEK POWERS BEYOND THAT WHICH YOU DESERVE, the World Soul replied, indignant. THE EARTH IS LOST, AND HUMANITY IS TO BLAME. LEAVE, OR YOU SHALL BE DESTROYED.
“No, wait!” I pleaded tearfully before the World Soul. “Don’t give up on us. Please. If I don’t gain power over souls, Napoleon will destroy everything. I only seek to liberate his victims and defeat his Empire. I’ll do anything you ask.”
The World Soul studied me.
ANYTHING? she asked.
I nodded.
“Anything. My life, soul, body, and alchemy—I’ll give it all up. I don’t care if the world remembers me after I’m gone. Only that a world remains at all. For what is my life worth compared to billions? What is the blowing out of one candle when countless remain lit? I am merely part of the Absolute Whole—as all beings are.”
The World Soul smiled. She approached me and placed her fiery hand on my chest. The inferno around her strengthened.
VERY WELL, she said. I HAVE JUDGED YOUR SOUL PURE, AND WILL GRANT YOU THE LAST SECRET OF ALCHEMY—THE POWER OVER SPIRIT. BUT IN EXCHANGE, YOU AND THE EMPEROR WILL BOTH BE ERASED FROM EXISTENCE. DO YOU ACCEPT YOUR FATE?”
I lifted my head, determined.
“I do.”
My chest burned as the World Soul marked me with a sigil, and her inferno spun faster, its souls increasingly agitated.
A celestial light soon enveloped me as I left the World Soul’s domain.
THEN GO NOW, PARAGON OF ETERNITY, she ordered. CLEANSE THE WORLD WITH FIRE, AND REBIRTH IT ANEW.
EKPYROSIS – FIAT IUSTITIA, ET PEREAT ALCHYMIA
I awoke suddenly, my eyes flaring white with the power of souls, and shattered Napoleon’s necromancy. Defying his will, I pulled my soul back into my body and sent him flying with a shock wave.
Napoleon crashed through what remained of his palace ceiling with a loud boom. He quickly recovered and reappeared some distance away, raging as he watched me float in his throne room as an astral being. His furious expression was priceless.
“Impossible!” Napoleon roared. “Your soul belongs to ME! Why aren’t you dead?”
BECAUSE, I replied, I HAVE COMMUNED WITH THE ABSOLUTE. NOW… I AM ALL THAT WAS, IS, AND SHALL BE. I AM THE WORLD SOUL, AND THE SOUL OF WORLDS.
Napoleon gasped and retreated, but I teleported to him at lightspeed. His next pulse of necromancy had no effect, and no matter how many times he disappeared and reappeared, I always materialized in front of him.
There was nothing he could do to evade me, and he knew it.
YIELD, I commanded, easily deflecting his every attack. YOU ARE FINISHED. YOUR JUDGMENT IS AT HAND.
Napoleon rushed to flee his throne room, but I seized him first and mercilessly threw him hard against the floor, forming a deep crater.
“Spare me!” he begged fearfully. “Please! I don’t want to die! I’ll do anything—renounce my throne, relinquish my powers! Anything! Just don’t kill me!”
DEATH IS AN INSUFFICIENT PUNISHMENT FOR DROSS SUCH AS YOURSELF, I declared. YOU ARE BEYOND SALVATION, AND MUST PAY THE ULTIMATE PRICE. FIRST, YOUR SOULS SHALL BE FREED.
Napoleon cried as I motioned my hand over his philosopher’s stone. The jewel cracked open, letting millions of souls burst outwards towards a giant portal in the sky, where they escaped into the burning World Soul.
SECOND, I continued—witnessing Napoleon melting into black ooze—YOU SHALL BE IMPRISONED IN THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE. FOREVER!
Napoleon screamed as I forced his philosopher’s stone to grow until it encased the Emperor in a crimson slab, then fused its crack shut and boiled it with heat.
The Emperor wailed in pain inside his new prison, condemned to eternal confinement.
Forever burning. Immobile. Alone.
FINALLY, I concluded, YOU SHALL BE EXILED FROM THIS REALITY, DOOMED TO WANDER THE VOID.
I tore open a portal next to Napoleon’s slab, leading to an empty, infinite abyss, then pushed the crystal into oblivion. The mad Emperor was no more.
Satisfied, I closed the portal to Napoleon’s hell and looked up. The World Soul beckoned for my return as my body began gradually disappearing.
But there was one last thing I needed to do before my departure.
I raised one hand, invoking the Sun’s power.
As long as alchemy existed, I thought, humanity would continue to be corrupted by its power, birthing future Napoleons. To prevent such horrors from repeating, I had to reset civilization. Eliminate alchemy itself.
It was the only way.
With golden tears streaking my face, I envisioned myself casting the Sun’s flares upon the Earth. The Sun complied, growing brighter until it released a massive flare that incinerated planet Earth, wiping out all alchemy worldwide.
Within a few hours, humanity’s memories would also burn away, and the Earth would replenish the life energy it had lost, and all would be well.
My work now complete, I peacefully ascended the scorched heavens above Paris towards the World Soul, and surrendered to the oneness of the inferno.
The paragon of eternal flame.
🜁🜄🜂🜃
Charles Ta (he/him) is a writer, illustrator, and educator based in NJ. He has had stories published in Sci-Phi Journal, 365 Tomorrows, Storm Dragon Publishing, Flame Tree Press, HEXFILED Magazine, and Fifth House Press, as well as written freelance nonfiction pieces for clients on Linkedin. When not writing, Charles teaches special education middle school students.