Like the tomb below, the air was stale, and dust lay thick on all visible surfaces. Every corner of the room had large, complex cobwebs crisscrossing back and forth, though I didn’t spot a single living insect, neither prey nor eight-legged spinner. Some light fell through the two small windows on either side of the large door, though it wasn’t much, since night had already crawled across the realm. Part of me was shocked that the Father and I had spent so much time underground, but another part of me had already known.
I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to calm my beating heart. I wasn’t sure if I was well-enough prepared nor if I truly had what it took to beat this guy. I mean, I didn’t even know what I was going to be up against. I wondered if I had my skipping of the Hamlet Stage to thank for that…
I took my first careful step, and another, then another, etc., until I entered the antechamber. The small room had paintings lining the walls, though they were all either entirely faded to the point that you couldn’t tell what they were supposed to depict or simply torn and broken. From the antechamber two doorways led to other smaller rooms, their purposes unknown to me, but I also wasn’t interested in them as much as the open doorway in front of me, which led to a larger room, either a dining hall or throne room. Or possibly a mix of both.
As best as I could manage, I tiptoed into the room, which was incredibly dark, though some light did fall from high in the back, where tall narrow windows were set into the wall and let slivers of silver moonlight touch the floor. Six large pillars held up the vaulted ceiling and separated the floor before the throne from the elevated areas to the left and right, where once the Aristocracy might have watched the masses kneel before their King or where guests to a feast would have slouched along great long-tables. But now, the hall was empty, completely void of furniture or decoration. A few dark lanterns and braziers stood pushed up against the walls, as if cleared away to open up the floor, but not even a painting touched these walls. No chandeliers hung above. No tables and chairs awaited an audience. No royal-blue carpet led from the door to the throne. Nothing. Well, nothing except the throne itself. A massive slab of stone. A crude, almost barbaric, edifice of power.
Despite myself, I gasped when I saw it was occupied. In the dark, he blended in, and only a faint reflection off his dull plated armour gave away his figure, which sat rigidly atop the massive throne. I felt him watching me from beneath his crowned helmet, so I gave up my attempt at stealth and crossed the floor. I heard the plates shift as he tracked my approach across where a fine carpet might once have lain. Five metres from his seat, in which he still remained, I got on my knees and placed the heavy lantern before me, like some offering before the Ruler of this realm.
But he wasn’t the King any longer. Not a true King, anyway. He only ruled shadow and death, and I was here to bring an end to his reign.
In one swift pull I drew the front shutter from the lantern and cast forth a beam that lit the entire darkness, so that one might think night had turned to day in an instant. The beam fell directly on the figure upon the throne and in the brief glimpse I saw, before I shut my eyes to the light, I took in everything. His face was emaciated, and the leathery, decaying skin was pulled taut across his skull. His eye sockets seemed hollow, but his eyes still remained, though were entirely black. The hair that fell from under the crowned helm and past his shoulders was wispy like that of a man long since passed. Of the three ‘living’ Forlorn I’d encountered, he was, sad to say, in the best condition. He hadn’t fallen into decay entirely, his wicked power keeping a shred of life remaining within him, and his armour was still immaculate, albeit dull from lack of polish. The expression I saw on his face in that glimpse was one of surprise and bliss.
Just to make sure the light of the True Flame had actually killed him, I carefully opened my eyes to a squint. In that moment the figure rose from his seat, took one step towards me and fell to the floor, landing on one knee.
It hadn’t worked. He was still alive. But as I thought these thoughts, I realised that the King no longer controlled the body. I saw it in the way the face became shrouded in shadow, and how the body struggled upright, as if tugged by strings from above. I quickly got up from my knees as well and drew my blade, but it was already too late. Darkness fully enveloped his armoured form, and he seemed to grow taller, becoming nearly twice my height. From his body shot forth a wave of shadow that shook the room and tossed me across the floor like a ragdoll, wrenching the katana from my hands and throwing the lantern against the wall where it smashed and set the True Flame free. It lit up the room with the power of the sun, casting long ominous shadows from the pillars.
“In you I hope to find a worthy husk, to replace the one you destroyed in that scorching Light,” said an unnatural voice. It didn’t come directly from the possessed body of the King, which was now entirely coated in a thick layer of darkness, instead it seemed to emanate from everywhere around me.
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I let out a groan as I got to my feet again, now at the opposite end of the throne room and my discarded blade a few metres behind me. The True Flame hung in the air slightly further back, like some confused firefly cast astray in the night.
The chanting in the background halted entirely, and slowly, building in the silence, a new sound entered. It was an epic, booming, heart-pumping male-and-female choir, joined by trumpets and violins, singing words I couldn’t grasp. A banner appeared before my eyes, “Now entering Stage ‘The Forlorn Shadow’.”
When I took up my sword, something came over the floating fireball behind me, and it swept across the hall, halting the advancing abyss-black figure as it danced between the pillars, and then charged straight for me. It collided with the edge of my blade and immediately infused it with a bright flame, which hovered just above its surface. I should’ve expected it, considering my blade couldn’t slay a Forlorn by itself, but the True Flame could. And really, what was I thinking? That the final boss could simply be beaten by shining a light on him? In hindsight it was quite naïve.
“It could have been simple,” the disembodied voice complained. “But have it your way!”
In the light of my blade, I saw the shadowy figure pull a massive object from beside the throne. At first, I couldn’t tell what it was, as it too was coated in shadows, but as the Forlorn Shadow approached to a chorus of scraping armour plates, I realised.
The Cursed Sword!
“Even the brightest flame can lose its way in the dark!” spoke the distorted, unnatural voice, and on cue the room became completely shrouded in darkness that even my sunlight blade couldn’t piece.
I could see no more than half-a-metre in front of me. With my sense of vision lost, I had to rely on auditory cues instead, and I waited with bated breath, as my ears tracked the advancing metallic sound. It was two separate noises coming from the same direction. One was the shifting metal plates, belonging to the King’s armour, and the other was like something dragging along the stone floor, a continuous screech that only became louder the closer it got. Then the second sound vanished, and I heard a swoop of something heavy passing through the air.
Instinctively I jumped backwards out of range, and, not a second later, I saw the pointed end of the massive sword slam down from above, followed by a loud crash and the flagstones cracking in half. A buffet of wind rushed past me, disturbing my hair and cape. Good thing I still had my intuition, otherwise it would’ve been my skull and not the floor that was split. Strangely enough, I was still fully in control of myself, my muscle memory somehow not triggering, despite the apparent danger I was in.
A small voice in the back of my head was telling me to get the hell out of here, right now. But I pushed it away, and when I heard the scraping of the sword along the floor again, I charged for it. I passed the dark form and swung wildly, momentarily letting panic guide my blade. Though it still connected. It was a shallow cut, but it produced an alien shriek from the Shadow.
“When the light vanishes, shadows reign!” the voice yelled, this time from behind me. I didn’t fall for it though. I could still hear the metallic sounds ahead.
“Your shadows are nothing!” I yelled back. “I’ve already killed three of your worthless minions!”[1]
“I will make more. Lend your body to me, and together we shall rule these lands!”
“Never in a million years,” I whispered and charged at it again.
The Shadow might’ve anticipated my move, but its body and blade moved too slowly to do anything about it, and though the Cursed Sword cleft the air, I’d already ducked past it and performed my Lacerate along the Shadow’s side.
Another roar, this time more human.
“Enough games, submit to my will!”
I didn’t respond, and instead just stood my ground. I felt a pillar at my back, and more or less knew where I was. I realised why the demon was taunting me. It likely couldn’t pierce the darkness entirely, still locked away in the husk of its former vessel, and thus needed my voice to find me in the enormous room. Even the beacon of light in my hands seemed imperceptible to its clouded eyes.
I waited by the pillar until I had relocated it. Its body was shuffling around somewhere across the room, past the next set of pillars. A faint metallic sound was the only evidence of its passing.
When the flame had imbued my sword, a rush of new knowledge had followed. I’d learnt a skill, specifically for this fight and uniquely tied to my choice of weapon. I took one step forward, stepping down loud enough for the Shadow to hear me across the open space. I lifted my blade above my head, charging up the attack, my muscles storing up power like a spring being squeezed together, ready to explode at any moment. When I was sure the Shadow was heading straight for me, I fired off the special attack.
My flaming sword carved the air as it slammed down in front of me, sending out a massive cleaving fire, and then slashing horizontally to follow-up the first line of fire with a second, so that they together formed a burning cross that roared as it shot through the dark. I tracked the light through the darkness, which seemed to part as it passed through, and, for an instant, I saw the lit-up figure of the King’s shadowy husk, before my burning cross hit it square in its chest. An incredibly-bright explosion followed, which burnt away all the shadows shrouding the mighty hall. A warm breeze returned back to me, ruffling my cloak and hair like some playful hand.
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[1] Okay, technically the Aristocrat doesn’t count, since it wasn’t a proper part of this World, but rather Iberius’ plaything.