The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the City of Kings in shades of red and gold, as night began to settle over the vast Egyptian desert. Inside the grand throne room, Apocalypse stood, his towering figure outlined against the last rays of sunlight. He was preparing for what would be his final address to the Clan and Coven Akkaba. For centuries, his power had been unmatched, his influence stretching across Egypt and beyond, but even he knew that kingdoms, empires, and dynasties were not eternal. Unlike himself, they would wither and turn to dust, and the inevitable march of time would claim them all.
The weight of this knowledge sat heavy in his mind as he gazed into the empty chamber. His wives, the women who had been his most trusted companions, were now gone, their ashes preserved in his time-ship. His children had grown, taken up their own responsibilities, and had families of their own. The kingdom of Egypt, though under his absolute control, was but a fleeting phase in the long journey of his existence.
He knew what he must do. Tonight would be the night he declared his departure, but not before setting his plans in motion for the future of Clan and Coven Akkaba, and ensuring the longevity of his vision—survival of the fittest, beyond the mortal constraints of time and history.
As the city settled into night, the great hall began to fill with the most loyal members of his empire. Generals of the Clan Akkaba, his divine progeny, entered first, followed by the mystical scholars and magicians of Coven Akkaba. Their faces were a mixture of awe, reverence, and, for some, sorrow. They knew this meeting was significant. Apocalypse had not called such a gathering in years.
When the last of them had assembled, Apocalypse turned and addressed them, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
"My children, my people, Clan Akkaba and Coven Akkaba," his voice boomed, resonating through the chamber. "The time has come for me to depart from this land."
A murmur swept through the crowd. Even though many had suspected this was coming, hearing it confirmed still sent a wave of uncertainty and fear.
"You have served me well, and you have grown strong. You are the fruits of my vision, the embodiment of my creed. And yet, you must understand: this kingdom, though it has flourished under my rule, is not eternal. You are not eternal. Your bodies will age, your bones will decay, and like the sands of this desert, you will be swept away by the winds of time."
The murmurs grew louder, but Apocalypse raised a hand to silence them.
"But fear not. Though your bodies are mortal, your legacy is not. Clan Akkaba will endure. Coven Akkaba will endure. You have been shaped by the ideals of survival of the fittest, and I have molded you to be stronger than any who have come before you. When Egypt falls, as all kingdoms must, you will step into the shadows. You will shape history, not through open rule, but through influence. You will guide the evolution of the world, ensuring that only the strong prevail."
His gaze shifted to the Coven, the sorcerers and magicians who had dedicated their lives to his service.
"Coven Akkaba, your role is vital. You will continue to seek knowledge, to grow in power. Spread throughout the world, absorb new magics, find those who are worthy, and bring them into the fold. But do so quietly, subtly. Create a Sorcerer's Guild that will serve as the surface layer of magic in the world, while you, the Coven, rule from the shadows. Do not rest on the laurels of what you know today. Seek more—there is always more."
The leaders of Coven Akkaba nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of their charge. The prospect of spreading their influence globally, of creating a network of mystics that spanned the world, excited them, though they kept their emotions in check.
Apocalypse's eyes hardened as he continued. "You are mortal, yes, but I leave you with the tools to transcend your limitations. The search for immortality will be your ultimate task. For while I go to find others like me —immortals of mystic or mutant blood— and for methods of making others immortal, you must not falter in your own quest to surpass death."
The room was still, save for the flickering of torches along the walls. Each member of Clan and Coven Akkaba felt the gravity of their new mission settle upon them. Their master, their father, their god-emperor, was leaving them, but he was granting them a chance—a chance to one day join him in eternity.
"Know this," Apocalypse said, his voice softening just slightly, "the kingdom is mortal. You are mortal. But the idea of Clan Akkaba and Coven Akkaba is eternal. And if you prove worthy, if you are strong enough to survive the passage of time, we shall meet again, in a future where death holds no dominion."
With those final words, Apocalypse turned away from the assembly. The future of his kingdom was no longer in his hands—it was in theirs. He would continue his journey, but Egypt, this part of his life, would soon be left behind.
He walked toward the grand exit of the hall, his heavy footfalls echoing with finality. As the members of the Clan and Coven bowed in reverence, Apocalypse took one last glance at his people. They were strong. They would survive. But his journey was not with them, not yet.
Without a word, Apocalypse's body began to shimmer, his form dissolving into motes of light. To those in the room, it appeared as though their god-emperor was ascending back into the heavens, becoming one with the stars. In truth, he was merely leaving, retreating to his palace, preparing to embark on the next chapter of his eternal quest.
As the light of Apocalypse disappeared into the night sky, leaving behind an eternal legend, the people of Egypt could only stand in awe, knowing that the god they had served was far from gone.
He was simply moving forward, ever towards the next step of his journey.