//------------------------------// // Charon // Story: The King // by ironwolf //------------------------------// And so stands the King, alone on the barricade, against the enemy hosts. The eyes that used to belong to him now burn with a fire ready to immolate those standing before him. The shadows begin to shiver around him, tearing themselves free from those frozen in fear, and come to life, animated by the dark wizardry. Open jaws full of sharp teeth dig themselves in the panzer breastplates, tearing the metal sheets to pieces without effort. The claws bite into the eyes, blinding their victims. The cries die out quickly, when the throats are finally reached by a tide of warm blood coming from crushed viscera. The knights, seemingly covered with creatures of shadows, shake in a helpless fury, hacking and slicing their own bodies. Their strength is for naught, the darkness flows into their minds through open wounds. Madness falls upon the raiders, now bent in fear before the whirlwind of revenants. The King steps down from the fortifications, surrounded by a ghastly host of monstrous shapes. Nopony stands in his way. Those brave enough to try and pierce him with their spears suddenly sway and fall down on the ground, where they are impaled by crystals, dark as the night itself, striking from the ground like swords. The world trembles in its foundations when the mocking mirrors, the ridicules of so-beloved imperial crystals, rise from the ground. They are born of hatred and lust for vengeance, it is a war cry of those fallen in battle. Those are the dead that now push the crystal pillars to the surface with their shadowy arms, wanting to taste the battle fervor and the sweet smell of spilled blood once more. But the shadows do not approach the sages in their long capes, they are able to repel them by summoning the shimmering light. It falls upon the spectral Empire’s warriors and the blood-covered demonic snouts screech in pain. No! It is a cry of joy! In a sharp light the shadows only gain sharpness. Now their burning eyes can be easily seen behind their visors of shadows. Without fear they launch themselves at their new victims, dousing the light at its core with a wave of cruelty. There is no force on the battlefield that is able to oppose the Shadow King, his will bending the monstrosities that used to be hidden from the eyes of this world. The hordes of attackers were smitten to the last. Today nopony will carry news of defeat and weakening Empire. It stands strong, strengthened by its own shadow. The White Crystal shook under the blows dealt by Fate, but the Black Crystal shall not succumb to that fate. The dead bodies swell, torn apart by the very demons that have accompanied them their whole lives. The most faithful companion, one’s own shadow, turns against its owner, taking the semblance of life away from him. Now they are all equal, devoid of breath, meaning, and flesh. The tents burn with a colorless flame, turning into ashes, instantaneously blown away by the freezing wind. The knights, running away from their fates, shall not go far. Nopony escaped their own shadow yet. Oh no! Let them have their hope, just as the King had one! A hope for a long life of happiness. Let them run forward, promising in their hearts that they will return to their own castellums, where they will be welcomed by their beloved wives and clusters of children. The King wishes for his victims to feed on the light that they have torn away from him. Then he will release from the leash of his will the demons, raking the blood-soaked soil with their claws. He watches with a smile on his face as they seize them, tear the helmets off their heads and rip their throats. Let them die. Let them die in uncertainty of their wives’ fates. But they shall not suffer the same fate. The King knows no mercy, but neither does he know cruelty. Even if the voice in his head keeps tempting and enticing him to allow for the carnage to unfold, he denies. He will not send his revenants to feast in cradles and bedrooms. The fury rips his heart. The alien hate against everything that lives tries to force him to submit. The King falls. The purple coat gets soaked in blood that was shed that day. He stays strong and suffocates the desire. He lifts himself with toil. Blood floods his eyes, still full of burning anger. He is the Shadow King, he is no servant. He will tame this power and bend it as far as he commands. He will abdicate and retreat back into shadow.