Nightrunner of the American Deserts, First Son of the House of Hyperion, Lord Commander of the Marsian Forges, High Lord of Earth, Emperor of Mankind.

​

I am called by these titles and many more, but before the Empire and before the Rebellion: I was simply, Chris. Named after a famous explorer that was around long before we knew how to fly. I, like my parents before me, was born a slave. Why you may ask? It is a tale as old as the Galaxy. Many years ago, humanity reached the stars, taking its first infantile steps into the galaxy. Soon, however, we would succumb to our long-time enemy, ourselves.

Mars, Pluto, Luna, The Saturn Colonies, they all rose up against Earth. Many of them not even considering themselves of Earth. After their hard fought defeat, we had focused on healing and rebuilding, taking our first real steps to unity among the species. Then the Sarkytes came.

First, we greeted them with open arms, transmitting messages of welcome, diplomacy, and trade. What started as elation quickly turned to horror as Jupiter Station was blown from the void of space. Just 3 short years after the Civil War, the fleets were mobilized again. These now united fleets would march forward and show these invaders the might and resolve of a united humanity. And we were found wanting.

In the Saturn Commonwealth, we fought a brutal ground campaign against them. The Rings of Saturn burned for months before we were forced to retreat. Hundreds of thousands of lives lost, colonies that represented Mans' ability to overcome, razed to ashes.

In the skies of Pluto, our fleets were shattered by their superior technology and tactics. In desperation, a human admiral ordered the self-destruction of his flagship in an effort inflict any sort of damage. It did not. Instead, it resulted in the annihilation of the Colony. Leaving it unlivable until my Empire came.

When they eventually came to Earth, we still fought. And when we were subjugated, we fought with all of our spirit until that too was broken by the Sarkytes. For many years, our race were slaves of all manor to our alien tyrants, doomed to toil until we either died from exhaustion or at the hands of our Sarkyte masters. Until December 25th, 2531, I was born.

In that life, I was born in what was the United States of North America in a godforsaken city called Chicago. Born to work what was left of the American Midwest until my death. Until I was separated from my family, sold and taken to the the City of Athens across the planet.

In my teen years, I found a woman in my quarters. Her eyes were blue as the Greek seas, her skin as pale like freshly fallen snow and her hair as golden as our Sun. She offered me a gilded chalice and told me that I had been chosen for what I did not know. And she would hear no questions.

Admittedly, I would accept if only to get this weird woman away from me. I would drink the chalice gone, handing it back to her with a smug grin. before I could tell her to leave, I was racked with visions.

​

First, I saw an alliance of humans. Weak, corrupt and ineffectual, dependent solely on the whim of this alien council. Until a great threat from beyond the void came, then it was humanity that tried to unite the galaxy. I did not get to see their fate.

Then I saw a Galactic Republic, weaker and more ineffectual than the last. And because of this, it erupted into a civil war. From this would come the iron fisted Empire, bent on the subjugation of the galaxy. But in all that darkness, I saw a light. Infinitely small but infinitely full of potential. I hope it succeeded.

Lastly, I would be shown the most horrific of my visions. I would see an Empire of Man. Numbering in the countless billions, they were ruled by a corpse God-Emperor. They worshiped in his name and died by the millions at each passing day, all the while singing the praises of their God and Emperor. There, I saw no hope. For in that grimdark future, there was only war.

​

I then awoke. The mysterious woman had disappeared, leaving me with the very armor you see before you, the crown that sits upon my head, and a simple note:

​

Rise, Caius. Son of Hyperion.