SHAZAM!: The Word of Power #5

The sun is the ceiling for Kahndaq, the house's roofless. This country has fallen to filth, famine, and poverty in the ages since he is exiled beneath the earth. He'd left it in such foolish hands, if only he'd been harder on the boy…

"The ground troops are well fed, King Osiris," a fat, hairy general points to an ornate soldier figure on a map table littered with them.

"Have the survivors of the last hit turned on their water?" His golden crown contrasts his silver accents.

"What survivors?" an older general chuckles to then wink at his colleagues.

"Raise the local tax in the North, they seem too prosperous," Osiris was not pointing to any enemy's map.

He is, in fact, pointing at Kahndaq.

The candles are hushed out as the room gets dark and smoke slashes the air. The war council drops into tense tranquility.

King Osiris finds himself above the rest of the room with his father's grip around his windpipe.

"Boy, you'd dare starve my people?"

His eyes glow and crackle as arcs of light streak through the room. A bright shadow looms over them all.

"Ah. Welcome back, father," he squeezes his voice between that indomitable grip, twitching between fear, confusion, and anger.

"You have some answering to do, boy," a rolling thunderous voice growls from his throat.

Osiris flicks a bolt into his father's eye, triggering a boiling shout. Adam squeezes his son's neck and throws him through a well decorated wall.

He rises in the smoke and rubble. They both are dressed in black. They both have metal bracers, boots, and the lightning symbol of the Wizard glowing with the power of Amon. Adam is shrouded beneath a tattered black hood. These two champions face each other; one golden elder, and one silver heir.

"I see you've been abusing my greatest gift to you. Tell me, boy. How many hungry moons have risen in Kahndaq?" spheres of lightning spark to life and orbit him.

"How many of our people died for your glory again?"

The war room is evacuated. They scramble and shutter, whimpering and stumbling. They trip over themselves, their colleagues, their seats, and their wealth. Buzzing air chases them to the exit, where they find no reprieve.

Doctor Sivana stares into them with a glowing eye. The general looks to him with a crazed indignation.

"Stand aside!"

"Stand down," as calm as ever.

Lightning wraps around and lifts the general. It snakes through every crack and between the molecules he's made of.

Flames consume and his screech is cut short as his throat shrivels and his muscles vibrate. Crumbling into a scorched corpse.

A boom shatters everyone's ear drums as the champions clash. Warriors and kings of divine right smite one another with thunderous blows that threaten the architecture around them.

Osiris has been King longer than anyone. He's worshipped and feared as a God. His plump generals shake in awe as their Godking is battered helplessly by an ancient shadow. A firm heel pinning a sore throat and Osiris raises his hands.

"M-m-may I speak?" his breath fighting the pressure of a small mountain.

"Squeeze out your wind, or address me properly."

"S-sir…"

"TRY HARDER!" the bark rattling the walls and floors; the pebbles beneath scattering as the floor develops cracks.

"Your highness!" a desperate wheeze at most.

"Who am I?"

"Father…" the lights in his eyes fade a moment.

"SAY IT!"

"My King!" a final cry and a howling gasp as his father lifts the foot from his neck.

To then kick the crown from his head.

"You've proven unworthy. As long as you can keep yourself useful, you may keep your heart. Am I clear, boy?" His strut brings him to the symbol he once gave his son, and now has taken.

He gently kneels and claims his crown once more. A fondness and an air of reverence clings to it. At last, with its true rest.

"Doctor Sivana," the proper king of Kahndaq addresses his liberator. He's much more befitting of the golden crown.

"Yes, your Highness?" his threatening stare locked on the creatures running this military state.

"Assuming my idiot child hasn't found and desecrated it yet, there's a secret library with your name on it." His hand twirls in the direction of the ingrates. "Once this business is done, of course. I have no need for obese cowards in my military," he marches out of the room and down the gilded corridor, dragging Osiris behind him.

The doctor closes his left eye as his right begins to crack sharply with jagged strands of light. The generals quiver.

"A generous king is a good king. Long live Teth Adam."